The Addiction I Just Can't Quit

The Addiction I Just Can't Quit

A couple days ago I read a post by Michelle Monet in which she described her deep, abiding passion for coffee.

In it, she writes:

If we are ever getting near to running out of coffee we MUST stop everything we’re doing…jump up and GO GET MORE!

It’s a cute post, but one that I can’t identify with at all because…well, don’t tell Michelle, but…


I’ve never had coffee.

Like, ever.

In my life.

(I’m 43.)

Don’t blame me, though. It’s how I was raised.

I come from a long line of tea drinkers. I was raised by my mom with lots of help from her mom, my Nana. I know my mom drinks coffee occasionally and my Nana may have dabbled with it in her heyday, but tea was really where it was at.

I can’t remember what age I was when I first started hitting the caffeine, but I was young. So young I had to drink the tea through a straw because I was too little to pick up the mug without dropping it.

While in elementary school, I’d spend after-school hours at Nana’s, doing homework while eating a snack of tea and toast. I had tea with breakfast every morning. I drank tea with dinner each night. I would’ve had it with lunch, too, but third grade teachers usually frown on that kind of thing.

Point is, by the time I was in junior high I’d developed a full-blown habit that to this day hasn’t waned.

Photo by Skitterphoto from Pexels

Photo by Skitterphoto from Pexels


I love tea. So much. Black tea with milk and sugar only. Ideally, English Breakfast or Earl Grey. I’ve tried plain green tea but I can’t do it. Too bland.

It’s hard for me to even imagine getting up for the day without drinking a hot cup of tea in a giant mug. Or writing without tea. Or parenting without tea. It wouldn’t be pretty.

(I can say I’ve managed to stop the cycle of addiction. My son knows tea is Mommy’s drink but he himself isn’t allowed to indulge. At least not until he’s grown and can make his own decisions. I’m not taking on the responsibility of having a six-year-old go through caffeine withdrawals.)

As for coffee…I hate the smell. It’s bitter and overpowering and, well, gross. Being in an office with coffee brewing has been challenging enough; I couldn’t possibly bring an entire mug to my lips to ingest that foul liquid.

Thankfully, my husband isn’t a coffee drinker, either. In her piece, Michelle writes that,

Even though some might say we don’t have that much in common it seems that cats and coffee have kept us together over 24 years!

In my case, cats and no coffee have kept my husband and I together for 14 years.

So, it’s tea for me. Java can stay the hell out of my life.

Just don’t tell Michelle.

A version of this post first appeared on Medium

The Irony of Being a Top Writer

The Irony of Being a Top Writer

Four Little Words That Changed My Writing Priorities

Four Little Words That Changed My Writing Priorities