And Just Like That, I'm Addicted

I have always thought of myself as someone with decent self-control. I'm careful with cigarettes, turn my nose up at hard drugs, and avoid even drugs I'm supposed to be taking.

But then I had one cup of coffee and my whole world fell apart.

If I'm completely honest with myself, I have terrible self-control when it comes to exactly one thing: food. I love snacks. I will not put them down. If a snack is available, I will eat it. Despite the fact that I am a wretchedly picky eater, I will make a damn snack work, because let's face it, a Triscuit dipped in bleu cheese dressing is better than nothing at all. (I hate both of those things.)

And all my life I've hated coffee. I love sitting in coffee shops and get most of my work done there, but when I leave I hate the way I smell. I hated the way the kitchen smelled when I got up for school every morning. I hated my father's thermos full of coffee in the car. I hate when my partners have coffee breath. I hate it.

Yet here we are. It started, like it always does, with just one. One tiny mug of coffee, which itself was drowning in milk and sugar. It was a necessity. My parents and I went out to dinner for my dad's birthday, and steak and mashed potatoes were involved. Ordinarily I would just succumb to the food coma and pass out early, but I had a show to do, and the Eastside Grill sure as hell wasn't serving sugar-free Red Bull.


I. Flew. Through. That. Show. I was delightfully awake, unbelievably focused, and effectively lording over the stage as Edna Krabappel, mistress of Cape Feare. (Mr. Burns. Anne Washburn. Look it up.) And the next night, coffee-less, I might as well have been a slug in a polyester pantsuit.

That Thursday night show broke my heart. Everyone else had a great show, and I was a train wreck. The previous night, I'd been seeing the world through light brown lenses. Now, the spell was broken.

At the bookstore where I work, we have a little cafe upstairs. We pride ourselves on our tea, and we do serve coffee. And us staff members get a free cup of coffee or tea every shift.

On my Friday shift, I realized that I had access to coffee. I also had a chocolate cookie, and who eats THAT with tea? Coffee it was. Needless to say, I was at the top of my game for Friday night's performance.

And so was born the monster. Playing a gig? Coffee. Driving home from Vermont? Iced coffee. Lunch break? Vanilla mf'n latte. Goodbye, Ginger Darjeeling Peach. Goodbye, Spiced Masala Chai and Irish Breakfast and Vanilla Almond Cookie. My new beverage of choice has become coffee.

I didn't even know until about halfway through my shift at work today, when I realized that I actively wanted coffee. I wanted the creamy, bitter goodness to compliment my lunch of Fudge Stripe cookies and a Lemon Zest Luna Bar. I wanted that smooth heat. But most of all, I wanted the high.

The problem with all of this is that I'm not quitting. Nope. Even though I am now painfully aware of the side effects (terrible breath for hours, awake until 2am, incessant pooping) I will not quit. Three days ago I opened myself to a bitter-tasting world, and now I'm here for the long haul.