i quit drinking coffee: a testimonial.

I quit drinking coffee cold-turkey a month ago.

Maybe it seems out-of-the-blue, but it’s been an idea niggling at the back of my mind for about a year.

Soon after I began seeing a counselor for my anxiety disorder several years ago, she told me that for people who suffer with anxiety even a single cup of coffee can push them over the edge into full-adrenaline, fight-or-flight mode.

Seeing as how I brought a full travel mug into every afternoon counseling session I quickly dismissed her.  “Well that may be true, but there’s no way I could ever quit drinking coffee.  Ever.”

Then I came back from South Asia last June and my anxiety was in a really bad way.  I started seeing a psychiatrist and went on more medication and that really did help a lot.  I continued to go to counseling.  Also I began seeing a holistic nutritionist for my other health problems.

When my nutritionist learned about my issues with anxiety she immediately said: “Julie, for a person like you, even one cup of caffeinated coffee can be really harmful.”

I listened.  I despaired.  I thought, Okay, I hear you, but I can never quit drinking coffee!  I can’t. But I did reduced my intake to (usually) a travel mug-full a day.  Sometimes more.

Also I remained pretty skeptical.  My anxiety was clearly serious; how could a hot beverage really have that much effect?  Plus my new meds were helping enormously.

But the idea stayed with me over the months.  I tried to go one day without coffee.  I got a splitting headache and snapped at my kids and then had to lay on the couch for a nap at 10 a.m.  I caved in and turned on the coffee maker at noon.

Over the months I stumbled across a couple of articles about the harmful component of caffeinated coffee, including this excellent one by a former barista and coffee addict: that the caffeine is like a shot of adrenaline that sends your body into fight-or-flight mode, just like what happens if you are in physical danger.  And I realized that, even well-medicated, that’s often how I feel.  I feel like I’m living right on the edge.  Like a small crisis or frustration will send my blood pressure up, my heart racing, my body tensing.

But.  It’s coffee!  I’ve been a daily coffee drinker for at least thirteen years.  At the risk of sounding melodramatic, it’s apart of who I am.  My passions are good books and good coffee.  I love connecting with people over coffee, love lazy Saturday mornings with my husband sitting on the front porch with our French press, love my weekly afternoon out ritual with my laptop and mug.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but we love strong coffee so much that our friends and family sent us enough Starbucks care packages to cover all eighteen months we lived in South Asia (we have good friends and family).

I’m one of those people that gets up to have a morning quiet time because I know a cup of coffee is involved.

So, to sound even more cheesy, I started praying.  “Lord, this is so pathetic. I can’t quit drinking coffee.  But if it would be good for me, please help something to become more important to me than coffee.”

Then we took our latest Pennsylvania trip and hung out in Philly with David’s sister and family.  At some point my brother-in-law Alex told me they’d quit drinking coffee.  I asked him about it and he described the ways he felt better as a result: more energy, less sluggish, and—get this—way less impatient with his kids.  He said, “Now, if I even have even one cup of coffee I get so irritable and frustrated with them.”

I resonated with everything he said.  I’m frequently irritable and impatient.  I get frustrated way too easily, especially with the kids.  I have low energy (which I consistently try to boost with more coffee).

That was it.

God gave me my way out.  He gave me something more important to me than coffee.

Of course.  I would quit drinking coffee for my kids.  I would quit drinking coffee for the hope of having more energy and less frustration as their mom.

Then God gave me bronchitis.  It was miserable, it laid me out for over a week.

It was the perfect time to quit drinking coffee.

I quit cold turkey.  I’m not sure if I advise that.  Especially if you have a job.  There are plenty of other ways to reduce the caffeine, bit-by-bit.

After quitting, it was 7 full days of awful.  Of truly splitting, mind-numbing headaches.  Of wanting to sleep all the time.

But I was already home sick and it was gray and cold out, so I don’t think it felt as bad as it could’ve.  The kids and I laid around and watched a lot of Netflix.

And from almost the first day, I began to feel the difference inside me.

My body, on the inside, started to relax.

And it just got better and better, folks.  The adrenaline surges and late-afternoon panic attacks were gone.  The racing thoughts and overwhelming feelings of shame were gone.  The on-the-edge frustration eased.  I felt more laid back about life in general.

And when that happened, I died to drinking coffee.

Seriously.  I miss it.  Sometimes I walk into the kitchen after David has brewed his morning cup and want to cry at the smell.  In the early days I was known to open the jar of coffee beans and take a huge whiff.  But I’ve never been tempted to drink it—not once—since I quit.

I feel so good that resuming my addiction pales in comparison.

Of course I don’t believe caffeinated coffee was the cause of my anxiety disorder.  But, just as if you have diabetes, there are foods you eat that can make your illness worse.

Also, even though I miss that ritual, was I really so shallow to think coffee was the base of all these relationships I have?  The base of my enjoyment of hanging out with people?

No.  Giving up coffee has not negatively affected my quality of life one bit.

In fact, I love brewing my pot of organic non-caffeinated herbal tea in the morning and calling out, “Do you want a cup, Ams?” and hearing her say, “Yes Mommy!” and pouring her half a cup in her little vintage Winnie-the-Pooh mug.  What could be more bonding than that?

My anxiety is so much better that, with the help of my psychiatrist, I’ve begun slowly reducing my medication dose.  I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go completely off it, but I’m okay with that.  Just knowing that I’m moving in that direction is heartening.

Here’s the other thing I’ve discovered.  It’s enormously liberating to realize you can give up something you thought you could never live without.  Enormously.  It’s downright empowering.  Now I look at other areas of my life and think, You know what?  I could change that!

So that’s my story.