I will never again make fun of people who drink decaf. It used to be that I didn't understand why someone would bother to order a decaf coffee drink -- defeats the purpose, right? But, having been told by two doctors to stop drinking caffeine, now I understand.
Stubbornly, I've thus far refused to give up my morning cup of joe. There are a number of reasons, many surprisingly emotional.
Firstly, having been a writer in my former life, caffeine and I are old friends, attached at the hip since college. Giving it up almost seems like admitting defeat -- no, I'm not a writer any more, no, I'm not pulling any more of those late council meetings or slogging through a weekend of kitschy parades and traffic wreck coverage. But real, hard-core bitches like me drink coffee and people who don't -- well maybe they're just not as hard-core as I am. Right?
Also, I've realized that being a coffee drinker is like being part of a special community of tired and harried people, who, although grumpy, understand each other and share a bond they're probably not even aware of. They stand in line for coffee. They know the name of the person making their latte, and that person knows their name, too. They sit in cafes with each other and sip their warm drinks and it seeps into their veins deliciously.
So I've continued drinking it, although I'm becoming more sensitive to it since I only allow myself to drink one cup in the morning. And I've realized I'm going to have to give that up, too. I drink it now, and my heart immediately races. So in good conscience, I have to give it up. This is going to be the week I say good-bye to my morning jolt. I may join that league of decaf coffee drinkers I used to scorn, so I can get that biting taste and that warm stomach and stand in that line and be part of that group of tired hard-asses. But I'll know what's really in that cup, and it just won't be the same.