Caffeine Retrospective

I've been off of caffeine for over a month now, and it's interesting to compare my sense now to my sense when I first gave it up. I've often noticed that people can have a really big change in their lives, and just not notice it. For example, they'll go on prozac, and all of a sudden it's obvious to everyone around them that they are feeling so much better, and are just doing fantastic; and then they'll get the idea that nothing has really changed, and they were always like this, and so they go off the meds and fall back into the pit of despair, never realizing that they'd had their salvation right in their hands, if only they hadn't thrown it away.

I'm finding a similar thing with me now. I haven't really noticed any particular change between now and when I first gave up caffeine. I'm still just me, sometimes tireder, sometimes less tired, with all the troubles and emotions causing problems of various kinds. Before today, I wouldn't have guessed there was much of a distinction to be made between the earlier and recent states of my being.

But then today it just occurred to me that it really is different.

First of all, in all fairness, I haven't eliminated all the caffeine from my diet. A couple weeks ago I had a piece of chocolate; and every few days I drink a can or two of coke.

So, today it occurred to me just how different things are. When I think of eating chocolate, I'm no longer overwhelmed by a powerful craving. When I think of drinking tea, the noncaffeinated tea bags seem quite appealing. My headaches have gone away, and I no longer feel this constant antsiness and desperation. Sitting and thinking is an activity that can come over me without sending me into a strange fit of anxiety.

Now, I do still feel the old caffeine desire from time to time. Every once in awhile it'll hit me, and I'll think longingly about the earl grey of yore.

But oddly enough my experience of chocolate has completely changed. I have two unopened bars of chocolate by my desk, the remnants of a much larger stash, and I occasionally look at them, sort of checking my inner mechanism to see if I'd like a piece. I'm not totally avoiding caffeine after all, and a piece of chocolate every once in awhile wouldn't go against my plans. But when I look at those bars of chocolate, I don't experience a pleasurable sensation of imagining the taste and texture of the chocolate. Instead, the flavor seems like merely an afterthought, compared with the inconvenience of actually eating it. I'd have to take it out of its wrapper, and break off a piece without getting my fingers too chocolaty, and then I'd have to have the chocolate in my mouth and suck on it for awhile, during which time it would be inconvenient to speak, or drink, or eat other things. The memory of the taste, or of the effect of the chocolate on my mind, has faded almost completely. The inconvenience of it is apparently all that remains.

When I first gave up chocolate, or when I was just about to give it up, the thought of not eating chocolate was almost antithetical to my very being. Not eat chocolate? Why, whatever could that mean? The idea of leaving my apartment without a pocket full of a complete selection of the available chocolates in my possession, would fill me with panic. What if I happened to be sitting down somewhere with a little time? What would I do without chocolate?

And now, here I am, virtually never eating any chocolate, virtually never drinking caffeinated beverages, and never caffeinated tea or coffee. The experiences of not drinking caffeine and of not eating chocolate are different from each other, in the sense that I do sometimes get a hankering for certain teas while I never get a serious hankering for chocolate. But the experience of being without those things is vastly different from the experience of being with them. The way I think of it in my head as I live my life, is that now, I feel much more human, my responses are more what I might expect them to be, and I can relate to myself in ways that feel natural and more like introspection. The way I remember feeling on caffeine, is like I was constantly being shocked with electrodes, and never given a chance to reflect, and my entire existence was a series of reactions and responses. I feel like the world around me now is a place of discovery and activity, and not the other thing.

Of course, I do realize that some people love being shocked with electrodes, and I'm in favor of that. But I do feel better with not so much caffeine. And I do feel that although when I think about it the change is pretty extreme, when I don't think about it I don't notice being much different at all.