i used to be a one coffee a day kind of girl. and way back then it was much more of a social thing than an actual need. Starbucks, and even dunkin donuts, were destinations. places to meet up with friends. to study. to hang out.
when i started working, the one coffee a day became a ritual of sorts. a way to break up the morning. a way to get up from my desk and give my legs a little mandatory exercise (if you can call it that…but, truth be told, i’m on the third floor…so it is a bit of a walk). i liked coffee. i enjoyed coffee. but i wasn’t addicted to coffee. just the fact that i could make it until 10 or 10:30 without having any meant something to me. i wasn’t one of those people – the ones you can’t speak to in a.m. until they’ve had their morning cup. but that wasn’t me. i didn’t even think the caffeine affected me. i could have it at 10am or 10pm and wouldn’t make one bit of difference.
but then i started picking up a coffee at Tim Hortons on my way to work. i blame the “roll up to win” game. and then it became two coffees every morning. one before i got to work, and then i’d still take the 10am coffee break, because those legs, they still needed a movin’.
last week, i experienced something i hadn’t felt before. a headache. a body ache. a need for coffee. it was 11am and i hadn’t had a fix yet. i was anxious.Ã‚Â withdrawal. like a madwoman, i raced to get some coffee into my system. and from the moment the shitty cafeteria coffee hit my lips, i knew i was fine. and from that moment forward, i knew i was an addict.
We have a very close family friend who is going through something right now. she’s not even 20 yet, and she’s a heroin addict. She’s a great girl, i’ve known her most of her life, and she actually used to babysit for my kids (which is another worry in itself…). I realize i can’t compare my coffee addiction to what she’s going through, of course, but the basic fundamentals of how she got where she is and how i got where i am are similar. it’s a social thing at first…and then it becomes a habit, or a ritual…and then it becomes a full-on mental and physical need.
i feel for her. and if i were the praying type, i’d pray for her. i hope her latest attempt to get and stay clean works for her. and i’ll stay thankful that my addiction is just to coffee.
please come over and visit me at Fabulous todayÃ¢â‚¬Â¦.where we talk about what the heck i’m going to do with Isabella’s crib once we move her to a big girl bed. (eureka! now i’m finally understanding why someone would buy a convertible crib….too little too late, i suppose!)