I’ve kind of sort of given up coffee.
I know, I know. I swore I’d never do that. I even suggested life wouldn’t be worth living if I stopped drinking coffee. But I was having some stomach problems and felt sick enough for a day or two to not want any coffee, and then decided to try tea once I was starting to feel better–
and now I’ve gone a couple of days without any coffee.
I’m not making any pronouncements about this, mind you. Two months from now could find me just as addicted as I was before. And I’m getting a fair amount of caffeine from tea, so it’s not like I’ve given that up completely either (although I’ve probably cut back).
But it’s weird. For years I’ve identified myself as a coffee drinker first and foremost. The kids have always given me Starbucks cards for my birthday. I was making a huge pot every morning and drinking it all myself over the course of the morning. So it feels a little like I’ve rejected myself and who I thought I was.
I’m not sure what I’m gaining by giving it up. Fewer peaks and valleys, I think (I was crashing about two hours after having way too much coffee at lunch). My energy feels a little more consistent. I like that.
Deep down, though, I know the real reason I gave up coffee:
So I can have a cup when I really want to be alert and it WILL TOTALLY REV ME UP.
I mean, if I go for days without a cup and then have half a cup when I have a lot of work to do or an important meeting–it’ll be like I took speed, right? I’ll be filled with energy. I’ll be able to run the universe.
So . . . no coffee on your average boring day. And then a cup on specially important days and . . . SUPERCLAIRE!
That’s my hope anyway.