Why I Am (struggling to be okay with) Drinking Coffee Again
About 3 years ago, after some minor but chronic health issues began to exacerbate, I went raw. (Influenced by my amazing Mother, who is my goddess queen role model.)
For the record: By raw, I don’t mean sushi. I mean that none of my food was cooked except for the occasional sweet potato. I removed everything with processed sugar, everything that came in a package, everything that basically came from any aisle that wasn’t the produce aisle. Even nuts and seeds were out for a while. So was alcohol (I went an entire month without it. That’s kind of a big deal.) I am still raw, though now about 70-80%.
Having grown up vegetarian, it wasn’t as hard as it might be for others but it definitely wasn’t easy, and socially it was extremely awkward. One of the most significant changes was the (very necessary at the time) switch from coffee to tea.
Most of you are like OMG WHAAAATTTT. I COULD NEVER!! (Actually, yes, you could. If you had to.)
I have news, guys. Big news. Coffee lovers don’t want to hear it but they must. After I got through the mental resistance to it (only Brits are “tea drinkers” and I ain’t no Brit) I FELT SO.MUCH.BETTER. Better than ever, in combination with a diet very high in fresh, raw fruits and vegetables. I had more energy than a 15 year old, my fitness levels were spectacular, my mind was clear, my skin was glowing. When I did have the occasional cafe, my body would shake uncontrollably and I would grind my teeth like a cocaine addict. I couldn’t believe the effect it had on my system.
I let coffee go for about 2 years. It was magnificent while it lasted! But then life happens. As it tends to do. You travel and it's non-negotiable to try a Turkish coffee in Istanbul. You move to Little Havana and it’s a rite of passage to enjoy cafecitos in the morning. You stumble upon the greatest French cafe in the city of Miami while on a walk and next thing you know, there’s an artfully brewed almond-milk cappuccino sitting seductively in front of you. With cinnamon on top. One sip and you’re transported to an oh-so-sophisticated coffee shop in Europe which you’ve been locked out of for over 2 years (and miss terribly but can’t admit.) And now that my body is “used to” it again, I can’t deny that on the days I do drink coffee I am WILDLY productive. Wildly.
I am the first to admit this is a struggle for me. To my core I don’t want to be hooked on coffee again. Yet…the French cafe. It’s just there, calling my name. Everything about it is fun. The accents, the sounds, the smell, the lighting. The regulars are especially entertaining: the father who takes his daughter for French toast with Nutella before he drops her off at school in the morning, the Haitian lady who enlightens me with her morning “healing” routine which includes getting up before the sun, the Cuban construction workers who take their breaks here and talk (loudly) about the baseball game they lost the night before. Sometimes soccer is on TV, sometimes Good Morning America (or whatever) which I rather enjoy for its more-than-occasional and always-totally-moronic headlines. And surprise guests that you forgot existed, like CARSON DALY.
My daily walks are now obviously routed with precision to pass the French cafe. Oops! How did I get here again? Silly me! Of course I spend the first 30 minutes of my walk in sheer agony over whether or not I am going to have a cappuccino today. (I tried the “once a week” thing. If you know me, you know this doesn’t work.) The war going on inside my head rages as my legs systematically and uncontrollably guide me there. With cash so conveniently stuffed in my pocket “just in case” I need exactly $5 for ANYTHING OTHER than this beverage.
And so today, justifying the coffee with my reality that I can’t return here for 6 days (I’ve got simply too many AM obligations coming up) I find myself at the counter. The owner, a tall, thin French man who works with the customers as his TWIN BROTHER (makes it even sweeter, right?) works the open kitchen, greets me with a big smile and a heavily-accented Good morning (I wish I could write that phonetically in a French accent. Goot MOWhrneeng. Maybe?).
I slip onto a cushioned bar stool and the waitress, a beautiful, young brunette with thick, perfectly wavy hair that I would steal for, and knows exactly what I drink, pours me water and makes my coffee. The owner and I chat a little bit about my morning mileage and his new haircut. I do my usual scan of who is here, what are they eating, what kind of job they probably have, how did they discover this place. It’s all very interesting.
Usually I pay with a 5-dollar bill that I graciously leave on the counter before heading out. However, today I brought my card. The owner runs it and comes back with the receipt. As he hands it to me, he puts his hand on his heart and says “Pascal,” to which I say “Bethany. Nice to meet you.”
AND I KNOW HOW CORNY THIS SOUNDS. I know it I know it and I am absolutely half-cringing, half-crying as I write it. BUT I HAVE TO WRITE IT. At that moment I realized exactly what brings me here! It’s totally not about the coffee!! (Though I do stick wholeheartedly by my declaration above - it is undoubtedly the best cappuccino in Miami and it does, indeed, taste exactly like Europe and no, I’m not telling you where it is.)
Pascal’s little gesture was just so human. It made me feel so significant. And every time I walk in this place, and sit on the (same) stool at the counter, and they know what I am here for, and they acknowledge they’ve seen me before, and that I am welcome here, I feel connected. It’s like all this hard AF internal work I’m doing, from the journaling to the meditating to the sitting with these really uncomfortable thoughts and feelings, is completely validated with this stupid coffee.
So why should I fight it? I shouldn’t, and I won’t. I’ll have the damn coffee. Twice a week. LOL.
If you aren’t connecting to your own little wins and you want to, write to me. I can help you. I’m not a coach, but through my own experience and my Active Escapes, I can guide you toward a deeper, more connected life. And if that doesn’t work, I can certainly introduce you to other people and programs that I believe in. If you’re hesitating, just email me. We can figure it out from there.
If you already know you want to strengthen your relationship and connection to yourself, definitely consider my Mexico City program.
DISCLAIMER: It’s not for everyone. If you’re not sure, again, email me. We can dissect it together.
That’s all. Enjoy your coffee. Or tea. Or whatever makes you feel human when you read this.
With love,
Bethany
