Does anyone else end up evaluating their entire existence when they get sick? I really hope I’m not the only person who swirls into this lost and lonely abyss. I don’t get sick often but when I do it feels like I got hit by a truck.
Recently, I came down with a bad cold that I’m still recovering from. I’m well enough to be out and about but I can’t shake the sound of a chain smoker from my throat. I’m coughing like the dog we put down years ago. At this point the rasp might be here to stay. That’s okay, I’ll embrace the phlegm and sing acoustic songs like Pheobe Buffet. Being sick wasn’t the worst of it. The terrible part is that my body has a mind of its own and hates medication, so some of the pills I took to make me better actually made me puke. Throwing up is on the list of top ten things I hate the most. At one point I thought I was dying and I wanted to go to the hospital but I was told they can’t do anything for cold and flu. Despite feeling like death I was stubborn as hell about going because I thought I was dying and I didn’t want to die at home. Like I said, I don’t handle sickness well. No ambulance was called. The extra strength Tylenol and fluids kicked in about an hour later. Thanks mom.
During my time of seclusion on illness island I decided it would be a good time to give up coffee. It was an easy decision when I made it because I was barely eating let alone drinking it. I wanted to give it up as a challenge to myself. I knew it would be a sacrifice but I don’t like the idea of being too dependent on anything. So I decided to quit coffee for a month. That’s something I never thought I’d do even if I were paid.
Reasons I did the thing I never thought I’d do:
1) Too dependent. It was important for me to find out how I am without the constant caffeine.
2) Self-sacrifice. To strengthen my overall discipline.
3) Detox. I wanted to see if there would be any health benefits for me if I flushed all the coffee out of my system.
The first few days were no big deal because I was focused on getting healthy, but then about a week in I started to miss it. The rich aroma, fresh grounds in the morning, it gets me going before a workout. I reminded myself it would only be until early September and I could survive without it. I’ve always thought it smart to replace a bad habit with a good one so as to not leave a void. Last year I replaced my booze habits with working out which has definitely served me well. I usually don’t drink anything other than room temperature water but I needed something to fill the spot in my heart that’s shaped like a coffee bean. So I did something that was even more unlike me, I switched to tea. I can’t even believe that sentence is true. I might as well move to London. I really can’t stand tea nor do I understand tea drinkers. Much like dog people vs. cat people, different species altogether.
Tea is does not appeal to me, it feels like a dare to drink it and sometimes I do for that very reason. It feels so hippy-dippy to walk in Teavana. Being told the various benefits of the many colors as if someone were giving the speech sitting cross-legged in a rainforest with a dijurido and sage burning in the background.
I don’t own any teacups and I do not know how to properly prepare coffee’s less fun friend, but I do own whatever the thing is called that you put the loose leaf tea in. I bought the set. It was last year and it was a gift for someone and the sales guy was distractingly handsome. I made it a full week so I posted about my green tea substitute. With honey and rock sugar it’s not that bad. Plus it’s full of antioxidants and only has about half as much caffeine as coffee. Upon seeing the switch, friends were getting ahold of me to check on my well-being. I have lived the mug life since I was barely a teenager, always been a rather proud addict so it’s understandable that even the woman who does my hair would stop in her tracks to question the change.
In a meeting at work, fasting from my favorite thing came up and apparently spread conviction. “I would not recommend it” I said, “it’s quite miserable.” She laughed and said her dependency on it was also pretty controlling. I survived seven days which is great but now it’s been two weeks and I have had enough. I miss the warmth. Coffee is a hug in a mug for crying out loud.
I’m going to need a doppio con panna of Christ in order to make it two more weeks. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a much nicer person when I’m properly caffeinated. Fueling the argument, isn’t it better for the rest of society for me to have my coffee? I’m much calmer which is nice but it’s also boring and sometimes I lack sharpness in my thinking. Also, there’s health benefits to drinking 1-2 cups of coffee per day. Specifically with memory, coffee could be why I have remarkable recall. Thinking I’m being more healthyby not drinking coffee could actually be depriving my body of greatness. It’s almost too easy to make anything sound convincing in our own heads isn’t it?
Other factors could be the cause of why I feel so off my game:
- 1) I missed a few workouts, my body is longing for that spike of endorphins.
2) I fell asleep in an awkward position on the recliner like an elderly person, with my shoes on.
- 3) There’s a mosquito bite on my knee cap that has itched for days.
- 4) I have not been pooping as much as I’d like to. It’s a basic human function that makes so much difference when it comes to mood. Coffee understands that majesty perfectly.
Seriously though, as a writer I fear for my work. I’m in the process of making my memoir and my thoughts feel much less on point and the words are being typed much slower. It’s like living life in quicksand. Okay so it’s not that bad but I’m still not pleased with my choice. Thankfully the drought won’t go on forever and the best thing that ever came out Brazil will be pumping through my blood once again. The characters I’ve written in my first novel love coffee. My friend just got a coffee tattoo. Even my dog loves coffee. All roads lead to the bean.
Coffee is on my bucket list too. Sometime in the the future I have a date in Paris at a cafe I can’t recall the name of (if I had coffee I could) where I will order une café s’il vu plaît. Same as Hemingway, I can’t let down the man who became one of the greatest writers in American history. He grew up less than an hour away from my hometown. That would be irresponsible.
I’ll come back for you my love, wait for me.-Genevieve Rose