I’ll be the first to tell you I love coffee.

And I get a little sparkle in my eye when I admit it. My lips will curl up slightly and my voice deepens, betraying my deep appreciation (or addiction, if you insist upon labeling it that way).

Coffee, however, does not do well in my system. I began drinking espresso when I was 15. Mom always used to tell me it would stunt my growth, but I had largely stopped growing a few years beforehand so I didn’t hold much credence to it. Coffee was the media through which I connected with friends in high school and my father when he would come and pick me up from school. It was a warm creamy beverage that took the Alaskan chill out of my bones. My mother ordered fancy flavored coffees through the mail and had that creepy artificial creamer that came in fancy flavors as well.

By time I hit college, I peaked with 32 ounces of drip coffee in the morning to get me through the double whammy of biology and chemistry back to back beginning at 7:30 or 8am. Then I rotated between 24 ounces of drip and a double shot in the afternoon. Or a quadshot if I was working back-to-back shifts and studying. My body began complaining a lot. I had PMS, random panic attacks, and any additional stressors would cause me to hit stationary objects with my vehicle. (not intentionally!) I began having stomach problems; it was receiving so much acid it realized it didn’t need to make its own anymore!

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