Each lazy blink draws my eyelids down, heavy and bloodshot, a constant dryness that no tear can salve. My head is full of freshly picked cotton wool, burrs grate inside my skull and everything is hazy and soft, removed. Every inhalation pulls a yawn to my lungs, saps another trickle of precious energy. Willing myself to focus, ignoring the incessant call of sleep, the lure of drowse.
Caffeine is the cure, the elixir, the nectar that will tame the blurry-eyed beast. I watch, mesmerised, as my hand hovers over my mug pouring my saviour into my cup, the dark awake sloshing up the sides. I know the bitterness will pull me back from the brink and as I lift the steaming promise to my lips, the deep warm aroma floats up and the senses nudge one another, ensuring all are awake. Lifting my mug closer I close my eyes and then … mindless bliss as the first surge of hot liquid descends through the rings of lethargy. I feel the buzz kicking in, vibratant with each mouthful, my eyes opening, blinking fast, I am ready to face the day.
Is this what an addict needs? Is it the anticipation of what is to come or the actual rush itelf? How much of addiction is laid out in habit? The process as much as the substance?
My name is Gordon McLean. I am addicted to caffeine.
If I don’t get my morning caffeine fix I am cranky and end up with a sore head. My body has come to rely on caffeine and whilst the withdrawal symptoms are mild in comparison to many other addictions, they are reliable and tell me I have a problem. I’ve read the studies on why excess caffeine is a bad thing and I do try and limit myself to a few cups a day. The rest of the day is fine, but the pattern of addiction remains a morning cup of coffee as soon as I get to work.
This post was brought to you after my.. umm.. second cup of coffee.
Anyone else want to join me and confess their addiction?