As I sit down to write this, I am cuddling a small cup of coffee, 1.5 tablespoons (down from 2) of beans I ground and placed in a camp filter perched on top of my mug. A little puddle of half and half below, something for a nice tan finish. Drinking pour-over, writing a blog, and wearing a knitted beanie indoors. The very image of hipster perfection.
When I went into the doctor four years ago complaining of something, anything really, whatever they wanted to find, Dr. Doctor put the tip of his pen between his teeth and said, “Well, it may be anxiety, Sam.”
To which I replied, “Ok. What else might it be?” To which he replied, “Anxiety.”
The first thing he suggested in dealing with anxiety was to cut out caffeine and alcohol, for the reason that they both disrupt the brain’s delicate chemical balance. Thus creating Anxiety, the fear of anything.
His second suggestion? Therapy. If the alcohol and caffeine thing didn’t take care of it.
Which it wouldn’t have. Or maybe it would’ve. Or will.