Energy Is Currency

Energy Is Currency

🌼Date: Wednesday, August 5, 2026

⚡ Energy: Spent on a stainless steel pan

💝 Status: Pan 1, Tina 0

🥱 Outlook: Ginger ale, recliner, and budgeting tomorrow’s energy

In case you have not guessed, I have a bit of OCD.

Shock and awe, I know.

Going to bed with a dirty kitchen, knowing I will have to clean it up in the morning, does not sit well with my soul.

It does not let my brain shut off.

I lay there thinking:

I should just get up and load the dishwasher really quick.

Did I wipe down the counters?

Did someone leave something sticky out?

Am I going to wake up and find an ant?

With three young adults living here, will there be a clean glass or bowl in the morning so I can have my breakfast if I do not run the dishwasher tonight?

These are the thoughts that move into my brain, unpack their bags, and start rearranging furniture.

Starting my day with chaos feels like waking up on the wrong side of the bed…

In a foreign country…

Where I do not speak the language…

And I am all alone.

Dramatic?

Possibly.

Accurate?

Absolutely.

This morning, I woke up to our giant stainless steel pan soaking in the sink.

Naturally, before I did anything else, I tried to wash it.

Then I tried to scrub it.

Then I realized this was not a cute little “rinse and move on” situation.

No.

Whatever was stuck inside that pan had apparently signed a lease.

So I brought out the big guns.

The Comet.

With the tiny amount of elbow grease I currently have available, I scrubbed and scrubbed, and that pan still refused to surrender.

Whatever was in there was hanging on for dear life.

Eventually, I had to give up, set it aside, and leave it for Casey to deal with when he got home.

Not exactly the peaceful, productive start I had planned.

And just like that, I was out of energy.

Pan 1.

Tina 0.

To make matters worse, the smell of the Comet made me nauseous.

So today’s big plan became ginger ale and the recliner.

Because apparently I used my morning energy budget trying to negotiate with cookware.

See, if the kitchen had been cleaned up before bed last night, this would not have happened.

Today might have started better.

I might have had a little more energy.

I might not have ended up nauseous before breakfast because I went twelve rounds with a stainless steel pan.

Thanks, cancer.

You suck.

And this is the part people do not always understand.

After cancer, energy becomes currency.

Every action has a cost.

Every yes has a cost.

Every “quick little thing” has a cost.

Before cancer, I did not think about it that much.

If something needed to be done, I just did it.

Dishes.

Laundry.

Cleaning.

Errands.

Work.

Social plans.

Exercise.

Appointments.

I could stack things.

I could do one thing, then another thing, then another thing, and somehow still keep going.

Now?

Now I have to budget.

If I do too much today, will tomorrow be impossible?

If I go to this event, will I need a full day to recover?

If I push through this fatigue, will my body make me pay for it later?

If I scrub this pan, am I accidentally spending the energy I needed to shower, eat breakfast, answer messages, or simply exist like a semi-functional human?

That is what people do not see.

They see the activity.

They do not see the recovery.

They see the yes.

They do not see the cost of that yes.

They see me doing something and think, “Oh good, she is better.”

But they do not see the part where I have to sit down afterward.

They do not see the nausea.

They do not see the tears.

They do not see the anxiety.

They do not see the day after.

They do not see the body that suddenly sends an invoice marked:

PAY IN FULL.

And let me tell you, the payment plan is garbage.

Sometimes I pay in pain.

Sometimes I pay in exhaustion.

Sometimes I pay in mood swings.

Sometimes I pay in tears.

Sometimes I pay in anxiety.

Sometimes I pay with an entire day where my body simply shuts down and refuses to negotiate.

Cancer recovery has taught me that overcommitting is not noble.

It is expensive.

Rest is not laziness.

Rest is part of the budget.

Pacing myself is not weakness.

It is survival math.

And yes, maths is still hard.

Sometimes when I say no, people may think I am being distant.

I am not.

I am budgeting.

I am protecting the limited energy my body has available.

I am protecting tomorrow’s energy from today’s pressure.

And that is one of the biggest, rudest, most bullshit lessons after cancer:

Your energy is no longer unlimited.

Your body does not bounce back the way it used to.

Your old capacity may not be available anymore.

At least not right now.

And that is a hard thing to accept when your brain still thinks you should be able to do everything the old version of you used to do.

My brain still writes checks my body cannot cash.

My body then takes one look at the bill and says:

“Absolutely not, ma’am.”

So if you are a survivor and your energy is different now, please hear me.

You are allowed to live differently.

You are allowed to pace yourself.

You are allowed to leave early.

You are allowed to cancel.

You are allowed to take breaks.

You are allowed to say no.

You are allowed to choose the recliner.

You are allowed to protect your tomorrow.

You do not owe anyone the old version of your capacity.

You only owe yourself a body you can actually live inside today.

Actually live inside.

Not drag around.

Not punish.

Not force into performing “better” for other people’s comfort.

Live inside.

And if that life is slower right now, that does not make it less valuable.

If it is quieter, that does not make it smaller.

If it includes naps, ginger ale, compression sleeves, and leaving the stubborn pan for Casey, that does not mean you failed.

It means you are listening.

It means you are learning.

It means you are being honest about what healing really looks like.

Today, healing looked like a dirty pan, a failed scrub session, nausea from Comet, and admitting that my energy budget was blown before the day even really started.

Not glamorous.

Not inspiring in a movie trailer kind of way.

But real.

And maybe that is the point.

Some days, I am the badass.

Some days, the pan wins.

Today, the pan won.

But Casey can handle that little stainless steel demon when he gets home.

I will be in the recliner with my ginger ale, protecting tomorrow’s energy like the precious little currency it is.

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💗 Tina –
One Badass Day at a Time