This summer, I developed what some may call a "caffeine dependency”, but I don't know if I would go that far; and while yes, drinking three red bulls a day is not economically sustainable, I’ve also been informed that this is really bad not just for my wallet but for me. Apparently, caffeine has a direct correlation to elevated blood pressure and heart problems. So I decided, for my junior year, that I would aim to grow and overcome this said addiction, because unfortunately colleges will not accept an E.R visit due to a ruptured artery as a valid extracurricular.
My caffeine-less journey was going really well. About a week into September, I implemented two very important systems to ensure I would not be tempted by the great sin of caffeine: I had bought a new water bottle, and was getting more sleep. More importantly, the summer redbull was retired so I had no choice but to go cold turkey.
Back-to-school season invigorated me with a sense of motivation and I felt very prompted to turn a new leaf. Everyday I got dressed in a newly purchased outfit, with my newly purchased owala—I was on my clean girl grindset.
Thus, the benefits of a caffeine-free life hit my body harmoniously. There was a great relief from the tension headaches that had plagued me throughout the summer, I was sleeping fully through the night, I was able to get through a whole 36oz bottle of water, my stomach was relieved of the never ending summersaults being done due to the effects of prepatrial caffeine abuse.
But… just as Icarus flew too close to the sun, I as well, fell off. Without the wings of redbull to bring me higher I couldn't last forever. Two major events lead to my relapse. The first of these? The loss of my dear water bottle.
A 36oz Owala, in pink. The shade angel fruit cake to be exact. One of my most prized possessions of about 1 ½ weeks. It already had a dent in the bottom. Imperfect…but mine. And sure, some may say that I could simply use a different water bottle. But without the luxurious and spacious design of my 36 oz Owala, how could I be bothered? And my grief couldn't have come at a worse time.
Pumpkin Spice. Like a moth to a flame it found be in such a weak moment. I was heartbroken over the loss of my 36oz Owala in pink angel fruit cake to be exact with a small dent in the bottom. This invasive fall species of coffee started to invade every establishment within walking distance. Caribou, Starbucks, McDonalds. My own fridge was suddenly hostage to the territorial autumnal beast as my mother became consumed by everything sugar, spice, and pumpkin. The mere proximity to this made me all the more susceptible to it. And alas, one day, a pumpkin spice latte sat in the fridge. Purchased so graciously by my mother and waiting for me.
How could I decline? A beverage that had cost my dear mother a hefty $7.25. It would only be polite to partake in the global pumpkin fest. Little by little, starting off with a daughterly love to social pumpkin consumption, to a mid day pick me up to a cup of cold brew at 5:30pm. I sit here, finishing this column with a coffee in hand.
Maybe next month I’ll succeed at the next thing I try, however being 0-1…I wouldn’t count on it. If you or anyone you know has a fun idea that you’d like me to try doing for a month send them to us at [email protected]. Also if you have seen my beloved 36oz Owala in Angel fruitcake with a small dent in the bottom, please let me know so that maybe I can rejoin the caffeine sobriety bandwagon.
