Quitting Caffeine Would've Been Impossible Without Drugs And Alcohol To Stop My Headaches
I've had withdrawal before -- oh boy, have I ever -- but nothing compares to the time I kicked caffeine, arguably the worst drug man ever made.
I used to not care much about the hippie philosophy of certain things being bad for you, but a college kid outside one of the Starbucks around here had a really convincing pamphlet. Suddenly, I knew I had a problem: I was not only addicted to caffeine, but corporate greed as well.
I was a mess, all right, unable to start my morning without at least three or four cups, and then finishing my day hunkered down at some dimly-lit, shady coffee shop with the last of my change going to that final cup of coffee -- the cup that I kept hoping would have all the answers, even though it never did.
Clearly, I had a problem, and I had to stop. But quitting things that are enjoyable but bad for you just isn't my nature, so I knew I needed some help. As far as I know, though, they don't have intervention TV shows for coffee addicts -- just people who inhale compressed air to get through life. My friends wouldn't understand anyway, because all they do is sit up all day and drink coffee, even at work, polluting their bodies and minds with the stuff as they "make a living" for the man.
So how did I stop giving my money to Big Caffeine once and for all? Simple. What I discovered -- and you won't find this in any medical journal, but I can vouch for it right here on the internet -- is that a natural substance you might know as "alcohol" is the perfect cure for caffeine withdrawal headaches. When I woke up in the morning with that merciless pounding in my head, my first instinct was to reach for the Folgers, but I eventually trained myself to reach just a bit further across the bed stand for an organic whiskey product called Wild Turkey instead. Like magic, I forgot about my struggle to quit coffee, the headaches went away, and I began to realize how charming a guy I am.
But there was still something wrong with me; even after draining half the Wild Turkey bottle, I was experiencing a lingering grogginess. I knew I needed to add some sort of natural supplement to my alcohol cure, so I turned to an ancient substance that the Mayans used to find peace, love and happiness -- cocaine. For centuries, the Mayans chewed coca leaves for strength and vitality, and where are they today? Probably dead -- but still remembered. That's all the motivation I need to place a concentrated stimulant up my nose and give a big old "I'm quitting coffee now" snort.
With my two cures in place, I was finally able to get out of bed with a spring in my step without having to touch a drop of that crude liquor they so benignly call coffee. I couldn't believe how long I was addicted to it, having discovered the amazing level of productivity and painlessness I could get out of just a few hits of 101 proof bourbon and a couple of lines of C dust.
Even still, the battle wasn't over. Sometimes, I would allow myself to get dragged back to one of those coffee dens of sin with tempting names like "Amped Up", "Addicted" or "The Trembling Cup" to see someone's friend play an open mic night by singing songs about MySpace or some such shit. It used to be tolerable on an espresso high, but without that, I feared the experience would be so unbearable that I'd end up either running away or turning back to into my old, addicted self. (For some reason -- probably because of oppressive governmental tariffs passed by the coffee lobby -- you are not allowed to bring alcohol into places that aren't licensed for it. That's not change I can believe in, President Obama.)
Luckily, it didn't have to come to that. There was a third miracle drug in my kicking-coffee trifecta that saved me, a substance -- one that's part of a naturally occurring alkaloid, so no worries -- called LSD.
What did LSD do? It completely removed the last traces of my coffee addiction, and restored the free-thinking, creative, hallucinating part of my brain that I frankly forgot I even had. Now, I can enjoy open-mic nights drug-free and more than ever, like last week at "Common Grounds" when the Vegetable Monster materialized out of the potted plants and slowly and bloodlessly consumed the singer who had just morphed from Jesus into Bill Buckner.
Add all that up, and I'm three months free and clear of caffeine. A new man is I. And in the process, I discovered a far superior way -- three new ways, actually -- to deal with sleepiness, anxiety, and stress. Of course, the important thing is that I kicked this polluting, caffeinated ritual. After all, if you're not living healthy, then you're not really living.