I Have a Confession to Make

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.