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It's not a habit, it's cool, I feel alive
If you don't have it you're on the other side
I'm not an addict (maybe that's a lie) - K's Choice
A true creature of habit, for good and for ill, I begin each day that isn't a catastrophe from the beginning with at least one cup of coffee. It is generally vanilla or hazelnut, with real, full-fat half and half. I may have another cup in the afternoon, especially now that we have Dunkin Donuts coffee in our campus cafeteria. I am online for several hours most days of the week for work and for play and for all things in between, and I get super-twitchy when I can't check my e-mail. I eat too much sugar, probably, although this is something I do try to control. And oh, I have at least one glass of wine most nights during the week and um, many times I have more than that. And I'm single, for the purposes of this discussion.
A distracting, intentionally artsy wine photo.
ad⋅dic⋅tion [uh-dik-shuh
n] –noun the
state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is
psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an
extent that its cessation causes severe trauma.
Enslavement is a heavy concept and even the concept of trauma can be pretty traumatic. It's terrible to need anything to the point that you're traumatized if you can't have it, but I have to admit: I am really, really bothered if I can't get coffee in the morning, mostly due to logistics (i.e., I will be just stupid late for work if I either a. stop to get coffee or b. take ten minutes I don't have to quickie French-press it into a go cup at home, including a few minutes to clean up the mess so my roommates don't have to deal with it.)
Coffee in the East Village, where caffeination feels exceptionally necessary.
The caffeine matters, I'm sure, but just like when I had trouble quitting smoking several times before I finally kicked it several years back, I'm tied to the psychological ritual of getting my cup of coffee, smelling it and (finally) drinking it. I liked smoking cigarettes until it got to be too much for me to physically endure. I liked smoking while I drove, or over coffee with a friend while we pretended to solve the world's problems. Sugar crawled into my life as a young person and once invited appears to be unwilling to hit the road. Wine entered the picture in grad school, when my wine writing group got together for weekly navel-gazing that could probably only be tolerated with at least a minor buzz.
Catherine Morgan wrote earlier this week that "If you're alive, you're probably addicted to something," and based on totally anecdotal observations over four decades, I agree. There are the tangibles, like soda or cigarettes, and the not-so-clear, or at least not as physically harmful, like praise or control. (I know a few extreme attention-addicts and observing the stress of that plus the reactions of other people, I'll take wine for the moment, please.)
Should I - and let's generalize to my single sisters here, because why not? - give up these things? When does it become clear that I am not really in training for a job as a sommelier and in fact just like the old red wine just a little too much? And if I give up wine (shudder) do I have to give up caffeine too? Sugar? More carbs? Do I get to keep ANYTHING in my allegedly depressed single life?
A picture of cake batter to distract you from my ramblings.
I don't know, and don't believe that anyone else does either, really. It's not a question I can answer for you or you for me, until that horrible point where it's clear that there is a serious problem. I've watched two people close to me die very ugly alcoholic deaths and intervention did not work in either case. This is no joke. Addiction is not just a convenient label, but a long, shifting scale full of gray areas, and it is stressful for all involved.
The daily dance
