Last year I got off sleeping pills. It was a long and arduous weaning after maybe ten years of needing them to cope with the stresses of teaching. After all was done, I remember thinking that I was never going to get addicted again.
Since getting back from last fall’s meditation retreat, I’ve drunk three cups of coffee a day. How I missed that wondrous flavour! I was settling into a rhythm … the joy of coffee with my bacon and eggs. And then there was Sunday. I was at a restaurant and ordered decaf. All was fine until early afternoon, when my brain started going fuzzy. And I was weak. Plus a headache starting. Oh my. I don’t want this.
I figured it was my lack of caffeine. And it hit me: “I’m addicted again!” A deep “No!” swept through me. “I won’t have my well-being be dependent on consuming a particular substance.” So there.
I remembered the pain of sleeping pill withdrawal and dreaded the road ahead. But I knew that I’d walk the path of “no more” again. So I began. Monday was essentially yucky and I asked myself how many days this would take. “It doesn’t matter. Do it.”
So I’m doing it. This is day five of decaffeinated life. And lo and behold … my energy is coming back. The eyes aren’t closing mid-morning. The wool is mostly gone from my mind. Gosh, there’s a faint light at the end of the tunnel. I’ve been strong, and it’s happening. Once again I’m proud of myself.
Yesterday’s breakfast accompanied by herbal tea seemed like a foreign land. “Where’s the coffee that I know and love?” But strangely, this morning it was “Here’s the peppermint tea that I’m getting to know and love.” How can this switch be happening so soon? Where is the prolonged angst and weeping? Not to be found.
And now I ask:
“What other areas of my life are waiting to be transformed?”
Perhaps the bacon and eggs