My addiction

“To crave and to have are as like as a thing and its shadow. For when does a berry break upon the tongue as sweetly as when one longs to taste it, and when is the taste refracted into so many hues and savors of ripeness and earth, and when do our senses know any thing so utterly as when we lack it? And here again is a foreshadowing -- the world will be made whole. For to wish for a hand on one's hair is all but to feel it. So whatever we may lose, very craving gives it back to us again.” ― Marilynne Robinson, Housekeeping

Another post on coffee, my addiction.

I had to skip out on coffee yesterday, and food in general, due to a lovely bout of food poisoning the previous night (note to self: do not ignore expiration dates on yogurt). I knew my destroyed stomach could not handle the caffeine. It had been years since I skipped a day. Yesterday at work was fairly miserable due to being up all night, having no energy, and suffering caffeine withdrawal. I did manage a cup of green tea though.

A few years ago, I decided to cut coffee from my routine, thinking that maybe I would be better without it. I managed roughly two weeks. I thought that after one week I would be fine, that I'd be over the hump of the withdrawal, but I really wasn't. Well into week two I still had a constant headache, was short-tempered, and irritable. I was seeing no benefit.

I thought to myself, Maybe I just need to ride this out a little longer? Because surely I've heard from numerous people that they've benefitted quitting coffee, that they fall asleep better, have happier stomachs, yadda yadda. (Although, these aren't really problems for me.) Perhaps it was just a matter of time before I started to feel good without needing coffee. But when?!

But then Tom said, "You need to go back to drinking coffee. We're all suffering right now."

Within minutes I had a cup in hand. And it was so delicious, being reunited with my lost love.

I quit quitting coffee.

It's not just the act of drinking coffee, but the ritual of making it also brings me joy. Boiling the kettle of water on the stove. Hearing the burr grinder convert the 20 grams of whole beans into itty bitty pieces. Letting the grounds bloom. Slowly pouring water over it all as it filters into my cup. And then to hold that mug and let the heat transfer into my hands as I bring it up to my mouth and get that first sip. Ahhhh...

And so, this morning, I'm savoring this cup of coffee, after a whopping 50 hours of being denied one.

Perhaps coffee is my religion.