A week ago, I sat in one of our meeting rooms at the office, discussing the current state of one of our projects, when I felt the all-too-familiar and sickening sensation of a rush of fluid in my nose. The generous drop of blood hit my finger a moment later.
It took nearly 20 minutes for the bleeding to stop. It freaked me out a bit because I had no real reason as to why it had bled. By the time I got home, there was no indication whatsoever of any issue, either. But it was Alex who got me thinking. Her thought?
I’d been drinking way too much caffeine.
You may recall my first cup of coffee. It was yummy. And I knew, immediately, that I was screwed. I love the taste of coffee. Given the choice between just about anything (except beer) and coffee, I’ll choose coffee. (In the case of coffee-infused beer, I’m extra screwed.)
And I did. Since that fateful day, I’ve drank a lot of coffee. Most people start when they’re in university. In the three-odd years since I started, I’m pretty sure I’ve come close to making up the difference. At one point, about two months ago, I think I was downing nearly 12 cups a day.
Twelve.
I don’t care what the papers say, that ain’t natural. It would explain some of my more recent blepharospams, and lack of sleep (well, DUH).
So I stopped. Cold. And since then, I’ve not had a single cup. Not one. Not even a sip, or a whiff.
The headaches were bad. Brutal, even. Withdrawal sucks.
Water takes up most of my intake now, supplemented by (so far, non-caffeinated) tea. Effects, after a week? I feel significantly less irritable and getting to sleep isn’t as difficult as it has been for the last few months. However, I still feel drawn to the coffee settings on the office coffee maker (it takes packs that make tea, coffee, and other assorted beverages), and rough mornings (still have ’em, of course) are that much harder without the kick in the butt.
Am I going to drink coffee again? Probably, but likely only on certain occasions, notably vacations (where I’m not tempted to drink coffee all day). During my regular 9ish-to-5ish? I may be permanently moving back to yerba matte, which I found to be less … dramatic.
So, this is kind of it, coffee. You were a good friend, a reliable companion. It’s definitely me, not you, at fault here, and it’s time we moved on. Not that I’m special to you, of course — there are many other addicts out there for you to have fun with. For now, I’ll just be happy to be … well, happy.
