I love me my morning coffee. Sometimes I feel like it’s yet another addiction. I’ve quit caffeine before, but it never sticks. There’s also not a lot of super compelling reasons to quit, other than the vague idea that I don’t like being beholden to something.
Four pounds over my weight goals right now, but staying on top of the sobriety, running, and sleep has actually been going pretty well. I don’t know if I’m getting cocky, but the cat has been good for three days running now. Maybe my psychic intention to not get up has leaked over.
So will better sleep — assuming I’m (finally) on the path to better sleep — reduce my passion for coffee? It’s hard to say. But it’s definitely been a crutch in the recent past. Compensating for poor sleep.
On good sleep nights, though, I still crave that coffee.
So I’m not sure if coffee craving can be used as a gauge for anything other than my ongoing addiction to caffeine.
Morning coffee gives me cigarette nostalgia.
The only other down side of morning coffee is that sometimes… not often… it gives me a clear flashback to my smoking years.
I don’t “seem like a smoker,” apparently, but there y’go. I came to it later than a lot of people, but I was half-a-pack when I lived in Quebec for a while, then tapered off. Finally quit, with my wife, for good back around 2011.
And I don’t get the cravings very often. It used to be when drinking, but that’s resolved. On certain crisp mornings, though, there’s a definite sense memory around having a cigarette and a cup of coffee on the porch that really resonates.
There’s something about past vices, I guess. Nostalgia for the bad old days. Obviously, I’m happy about the progress I’m making, but what does it say that I keep mentally calling back to bad habits?