I think it’s time I admit that I have a problem, an addicition. I guess it all started in college. Small-town girl gets to the big city, you know how it goes. I started using it at first because I thought I “had to” in order to survive college life, then it gradually turned into a social thing and something I did just to fit in with everybody else. Everyone really was doing it, so I had too as well. But what started as just an enjoyable leisure activity soon turned into something more serious.
I started using it more than once a day. I would seek out the best places to get it and hide out there for hours. My excuse was that I was working on a paper or something for class, but I know deep down what the real reason was. I was simply feeding my addiction.
The fall semester of my junior year of college I was able to study abroad in Germany. Three months in Europe only caused this monster to become more out of control. I mean it was Europe! Europe was able to give me stuff I had never had before. Real stuff. Pure stuff. That’s the stuff! My three months in Germany finally came to an end, and it was back to the U.S., but I was beyond the point of no return. I continued to feed this addiction. Old habits die way too hard. I had to have my daily fix. The alternative was not pretty.
In the past year I feel like I have really hit rock bottom. This is the worst I have ever been. My addiction is so strong that I have started importing what I need from Africa, that way it can be as fresh and as pure as possible. If I don’t get my daily fix these days I experience withdrawal symptoms. I’m moody, irritable, and the headaches….oooh the headaches. They bring unbearable, crippling waves of pain that I have never experienced before.
With my addicition comes shame. I know it is taking a financial toll on my family. We can’t afford a daily fix, we can’t afford the good stuff from Africa, but I just have to have it. I’ve started to get sneaky, thinking about how I can get what I need without anybody knowing about it, without having to feel the same of being an addict. Often the need is so strong that I will settle for a lower-quality substance just to ease my pain. I feel like I’ve hit rock bottom, but I’m sure I can go even lower. It’s a vicious cycle, and I’m caught right in the middle.
Coffee, my coffee. Why do I love what hurts the most?
**Obviously this post is in jest, but I have recently been trying to wean myself from my friend Mr. Coffee and have been experiencing hellacious withdrawal symptoms! Anybody successfully beaten this monster and have any tips or advice?**
1 Comment
July 1, 2009 at 8:34 pm
My advice is to give up at giving it up.
“The man who fears God avoids both extremes.” -Solomon
There are no negative health benefits, it IS social, and going out for coffee is way cheaper than going out for lunch. Caffeine helps you on tests, and makes everyone happier. Plus, I will sell you fresh roasted Kenya AA (yes African!) for my special close friend price of $5/lb.