Coping

It has been 6 days since I drank coffee.

David Sedaris talked about quitting smoking in his last book. I remember he wrote that the first transoceanic flight he took after he quit, he didn't know what to do when he landed. He would always rush out of the airport to smoke. When he didn't have (or get) to do that, flying was a bit anti-climatic.

Every morning is anti-climatic for me. I don't know what to do with myself. I wake up and nothing. (Coffee was my reason to get up 7 days ago, and all the days before that.) So I lay in bed, watching a movie, until I really have to get up to get dressed and go to work.

When I was drinking coffee, it never messed with my sleeping patterns. I could drink coffee in the morning, take an afternoon nap, and go to bed at 10pm. Yesterday I went to bed at 9pm and slept solid until 8am. If anything, coffee was keeping my sleeping habits closer to what is deemed socially acceptable.

I'm sure if I looked up symptoms of addiction, my coffee drinking would be classified as one. It is why I don't look it up AND why I'm fasting from all forms of caffeine for these 9 days. I'm proving that I can quit anytime I want (oh wait...). It isn't like it is bad for me (Oh no...). It's not illegal, Starbucks are everywhere (Oh Crap...). I'm going to stop typing now, my excuses are not helping.

So far, the only positive thing about this whole experiment is that my liver and kidneys are probably very happy with me right now. (Did I mention no alcohol as well?) I've been drinking water non-stop since I started my fast on Friday.

Coffee keeps me sane. It reminds me of home. It reminds me of the village. It is my coping crutch. Now, let's see what happens without it...