Coffee, I Can’t Quit You.

Extra cream, please.

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

I just got done chugging a Starbucks Venti dark roast, with cream.

It’s just the second cup of coffee I’ve had since last year. You see, I gave it up. I quit coffee.

We see conflicting reports about coffee and how good or bad it is for our health. Either it’s going to hasten our demise, or it’s going to help us live to be 100.

I don’t care about any of that though. For me, it was bordering on addiction. I consider any behavior that affects my life in a negative way to be an addiction, and that’s what my coffee habit had become.

Every morning, I would make half a pot of strong coffee, and drink the whole thing, with lots of cream. It took that much just to bring me to normal. And I think the caffeine never quite left my body, because I was beginning to have a terrible time getting to sleep at night.

I’d wake up feeling tired, so I’d drink copious amounts of coffee. Lather, rinse, repeat.

If I was traveling, or not home in the morning for whatever reason, I’d be nervous about whether I’d be able to easily get my fix.

My last big vacation was in Paris, and my first morning there was frustrating, as I only saw cafes serving these tiny cups of coffee. I motioned to the server that I would like…