Here is the thing about coffee, be it Columbian, French, or Arabic; Americano, latte, or espresso; rich, or medium roast; it comes with a caffeine kick. Before the protests begin, let me say that I have drunk decaffeinated coffee and that it is all very well in its own way, but you must admit that it is rather like a vegetarian turkey roast, well intentioned, but it misses the point. We drink coffee for the caffeine, eat turkey for its meat and consume meat substitutes… Ok, so I’m a little hazy as to why we should consume meat substitutes. They do not fit under the traditional headings animal, vegetable, or mineral. For them a whole new category had to be invented; the laboratory, experimental food category; manufactured, as they are, using unidentified emulsifiers, innumerable food colourants and questionable, scary, turkey-smelling, scent stimulants.
Coffee, on the other hand, is about as natural as a food can get and about as ancient. At a time when the carrot was still working its way out of a vegetable primeval swamp, still seeking access to the early-human salad dish, the coffee bean had graduated to the top of the food chain and was already being used in religious ceremonies. You can bet a minor fortune that our ancestors didn’t send out for a decaffeinated, religious experience when the stars were properly aligned, and the gods were demanding exorbitant protection payment.
If you are planning human sacrifice to some moon god, an altered state is a necessity. I should think that a caffeine halo would be a minimum requirement for a high priest with murder on his mind. It makes one wonder about the forefathers of today’s coffee beans. They must have been a thousand times stronger and have hailed straight from the Garden of Eden. In that bygone era, coffee beans must have had attitude. Think how stoned a person would have to be to believe that the wholesale slaughter of virgins would somehow cause crops to grow. I mean, there are caffeine highs and there is a place well beyond the rational sphere. To think that a gently roasted coffee bean could send you off in a frenzied search for your sharpest sacrificial blade. Considering cause and effect, Ye Olde Coffee Bean must have delivered a far stronger kick to the head than a modern triple expresso.
OK, I will admit that a person can still become addicted to the modern coffee bean and that maybe, there should be a twelve-step program for caffeine addicts. Step one, ‘I am powerless over coffee and my life has become unmanageable.’ I’m not talking about those smiling, simpering fools who declare themselves dependent without showing any real signs of being hooked on the drug. Of having minor tremors in their hands, dark rings under their eyes or to suffer from slightly jerky, twitchy movements. I’m talking about people, like myself, who one day make a doctor’s appointment because they can’t sleep, there’s a tremor in their hand, and their stomach is shot.
They say that you get the doctor you deserve and perhaps you do. Mine held his surgery in a rented house and saw patients in the fitted kitchen. He was on the functional side of lunacy, had no time for placebos, or malingerers, and was truly concerned with helping people get better, all of which made me like him. He listened to my symptoms, gave me three tablets, and told me to take one a day and call him when they were finished.
‘Well,’ he told me, when I phoned him, ‘If they had no effect on you, you’re not depressed. Because that was Valium.’ With that he hung up and it fell to me to solve the mystery for myself.
I did what everybody did back then when looking for answers, I went to the library to find a book which might explain the problem. And there, in a matter of minutes, in a slim volume about sleep, I discovered the problem. In fact, the issue was identified on the very first page of the very first chapter. The conundrum of my nightmarish, sleep deprivation, was solved. Coffee, or more accurately caffeine, was the culprit. The solution was simple. Not easy, simple.
No more of the dark brew, the author assured me, could pass my lips if I ever wanted to experience an REM sleep cycle again, or experience magnificently weird dreams in the wee hours of the morning. It was with a heavy heart that I took up the challenge.
But there are consequences to going cold turkey – real, or a vegan substitute. It can give you the mother and father of all hangovers, one which can last a week, or even two. Then, there is the issue of being deprived of your comfort cup, the ceramic teddy, if you will, one which is always within easy reach and reassures you that all is well in your world. As the weeks passed, my coffee mug stared down accusingly at me from a shelf, only to be ignored as it gathered dust.
Around this time, I came to believe that my addiction was as much habit formed as physical. Therefore, after six months subsisting on a decaf substitute, a sort of mild methadone program, I felt it wase safe to test my theory.
A little experimentation proved me right and I discovered that if I restricted my intake to two, or three cups of coffee a day, my sleep patterns remained unaffected.
Nowadays, all signs of addiction are behind me. I no longer find myself obsessing about my next hit of this pleasant drug, or losing sleep because of it. Coffee no longer rules my life, but it certainly enhances it and I rather enjoy a mild caffeine kick.