Leaded or Unleaded?

I've been pretty open about my addictions. You've seen my bead pieces, know I get all excited by acquiring new beads, and even join Internet beading parties or trades. You know beading literally saved me from my illness and many hospitalizations. 

I've been honest about my being an EX smoker--one addiction that nearly had me broken in two in giving it up. (I celebrate 2 years of non-smoking next week and I'm all about that!)  And if you have been around a bit, you know I decided for one of my New Year's goals  was to reduce my intake of sugar. That's actually going fairly well--although the first three weeks of forming this new habit was difficult. 

I wrote last December about our coffee pot experience.  What I didn't mention was my addiction to coffee. Before you even go there--no I'm not giving it up. They will have to pry my coffee cup from my cold dead hands; and even then, I guarantee it will be a fight!

I actually started drinking coffee as a kid. You know those occassional Saturday mornings when your mother would let you have a cup of the bitter brew that was loaded with sugar and milk. In fact, there was very little coffee--it was mostly sugar and milk. Our moms had a good idea that too much caffeine in us would ruin their entire day. 

But I didn't become addicted to the stuff until we moved to Turkey. My father was military and we were able to accompany him to Incirlik Air Force Base back in the early 70s. When we got there, we were on a waiting list for onbase housing, so until our number came up, we lived in downtown Adana in what I thought was the coolest apartment ever. Our Turkish landlord had a habit of having an evening cup of coffee in nice weather, along with either some Turkish Delight or dolma or other traditional Turkish goodies. He drank his coffee in those little tulip cups where the bottom of the cup was full of coffee grounds. The actual cup held maybe three sips of coffee total. 

He would invite me join in with him from time to time and have a cup of coffee. My parents didn't realize I was being super-caffeinated at 5PM. Our landlord told me that to be a true coffee drinker, one didn't have creamer or sugar added to the coffee. By the time we moved on base nearly two years later, I was a "true" Turkish coffee drinker. And I was sneaking cups of coffee from my parents--which was noticably weaker--ever since. 

Fast-forward to age 17: My mother finally approved of my having ONE cup of coffee with her in the mornings before school. It was our "grown-up time." She didn't realize I was getting two and three cups before school. 

Skip forward another few years:   I'm drinking a whole pot of coffee--or two per day--was pretty much my standard. All my friends were keeping sodas in their refrigerators, but I had coffee. Yes, I even drank coffee when I was pregnant with my son.  I never made the connection that my consuming pots of coffee during pregnancy would result in hyper child when he came out. I think his supercharged caffeination finally wore off when he was about 13 or 14 years old.

I tried for a couple of years to  switch to tea, but that was always my nighttime beverage. Ok--we're still dealing with caffeine but it was different. Anyone who drinks the stuff can tell you that the caffeineis gentler on the body than caffiene from coffee. I bought that too for awhile.

By the time I was 38 years old, I discovered bean coffee. I fell hard for bean coffee--the smell of freshly ground coffee beans was my absolute special treat. Every semester, I bought two bags of coffee beans. I would sparingly treat myself to bean coffee on those special occasions: I got an A on a paper or test. I got a B on a paper or test. I got a C on a paper or test. For midterms--because I needed that extra boost. After midterms because I got that far. For finals week because I was studying! After finals because I made it through one more semester! Wooooooohooo! Bring on the coffee! How 'bout an extra pot with those freshly ground beans because you--Cathryn--deserve it! Yes! Let's try the strongest brew there is! Go ahead--order the house cup with a shot of espresso for pure pleasure! Drink that bayou or cowboy coffee and delight in its robust flavor! 

D found how I am when he helped me move up to this beautiful place. The next morning I was snarling at him--Go get me a cup of coffee--PLEASE! That was said as an after thought. He insisted on showering and dressing and it would only take him 15 minutes. That was way too long for me.  He discovered that this normally nice woman transformed into the She-Devil without her morning cup or three or six. 

Then I turned 40. Suddenly, I wasn't able to sleep when I consumed a pot of coffee after--oh let's say 6PM. Or 5PM. Laying there all night long feeling your body twitch from caffeine-toxicity is not fun. I had vivid dreams of being stuck in the middle of some no-name city where I couldn't get a cup of coffee. I had nightmares about terrorists who confiscated the world's entire coffee bean supplies and were holding them ransom--and no government or rich person would make the deal. I refused to make the connection of the all-night twitching and the nightmares to that extra pot of coffee. 

REFUSED--do you hear me? I told myself it was stress. I was about to be married for the second time in my life after swearing I would never do marriage again. I told myself I was under pressure to complete my bachelor's degree. I chastized myself for believing I could do the same things in the same amount of time when I was 20---that I could not sleep for two days and all would be right with my world because I was finishing up a major paper. LOL The lies we tell ourselves!

In my last year of graduate school, I realized I couldn't deny it any longer. Coffee was no longer my best friend. I had to face the fact I was addicted to this very legal substance. I had to break my addiction or at least reduce my consumption before it was completely taken away from me. I told myself if I reduced my consumption, there was no reason to believe I couldn't drink 5, 6, 10 cups a day as I grew older. 

Stick with me here--it's about to get wild. 

My first forays into reducing my consumption was not easy for me and a total train wreck for those around me. I decided I couldn't bring coffee to my afternoon classes any more because I couldn't drink coffee after noon each day. Some days when I got to class, there were three cups of coffee waiting for my consumption. My classmates understood I was trying to cut back but I guess I was extremely difficult to be around during my reduction phase. So they bought me coffee. During my internship, my colleagues would bring in a cup or two of special java (espresso--oh how this sings to me!) for me just so they could work with me. They refused to let me deal with the public or answer the phone during this time. D would slip me an extra cup from time to time--just for his peace of mind. I know I was really, really bad. 

After three months, I reduced my intake from 2-3 pots a day down to half a pot--and we had a huge pot back then. Then I decided to reduce it even further. I'm now down to 3 cups a day on average. Occasionally, I'll have that extra cup in the morning. That happens may be once a month. Some days, I'm lucky to get two cups of coffee in the morning. 

When I was hospitalized, the staff thought they were helping me out by giving me decaffienated coffee. That was like coffee-flavored water and I refused to drink  it. That's actual standard practice of anyone going into the hospital with cardiac issues. Did you know they use formaldehyde to decaf the beans?!?!?! No thank you--I'm sticking to the full-leaded coffee! I gave up smoking but I'm NOT giving up my coffee. 

I believe my attitude towards my favorite drink has changed. I can  now get up and deal with all the other things first--feeding twining, meowling felines, checking students' emails, feed hungry birds, wash dishes or start a load of clothes--all before my first cup. I now savor my coffee instead of gulping it down like water. I know all too well that even this simple pleasure can be taken away, so I cherish it daily. I also left myself wiggle room in case I have to reduce my intake a bit more. *grins at you*

My Other Vice

We all have vices, habits, addictions that we find it difficult to break. Naturally there are vices, habits, addictions that we are just not going to attempt to break because we enjoy them so well! That's where I'm at in my journey. I've given up a lot of my favorite foods, disgusting habits (like smoking) and have sacrificed convenience for quality. I've formed new habits, spend hours--literally, spend hours reading labels on my foods, doing lots of research, and I let my 80-year old neighbor drag me around the park every other day. I've even stopped doing chores in the most time-saving and efficient manner so I'm that much more active. 

I have two vices--I call them vices. Whether or not you do is up to you. But I call them vices. These two shall not be touched. I won't give them up. Not now. Not ever. Don't ask. 

My first vice is my coffee. I was willing to give up smoking just so I could have my coffee. Seriously. Most smokers think I'm a total headcase because I was willing to throw away the cigarettes but not the liquid. Don't ask me to give it up. I won't. You don't know the pain I went through just cutting back from 2-4 pots (and mostly drinking that by myself) down to three measly cups per day. I made others miserable. It ghastly. It was difficult. Giving birth to my son was easier and less painful than cutting back on my coffee. 

(And here comes Harley as I type this. He has to "neck" when he feels traumatized. I mean do the nursing-mama-thing and suck on my neck--complete with kneading. I'm guessing he's feeling my pain at giving up a lot of my coffee and it's traumatizing him. He wants to neck. It should make me feel better. It works for him. But I digress...)

My second vice is beading. Don't ask me to give it up either. The need to bead is strong within me, do you hear?  And please don't ask me which one I value most--my coffee or beading. It's no competition! I've got to have both.

The need to bead goes back to my first real release from the hospital back when I was sick in 2008. I was hospitalized the first week in March and had four more hospitalizations by May. In June, although still pretty frail, I was feeling somewhat stronger. I still had the last vestiges of the suicide ideation which was caused by all the medications shoved, poked, and needled into my body during the past two months.  (Yes, being allergic to medication can cause suicidal thoughts.)  I decided that if my time was limited (and I felt at the time, that the end was fast approaching), I couldn't leave without first making some sort of memento for my sisters. I have two younger sisters. Middle Sister and Baby Sister. Despite all the fights, bickering, slap-downs (verbally--not literally) and miles between us, I still love my little sisters. 

I had seen this Sisters pin of three female figures-each figure done in silver, copper, and gold. Well at the time, I couldn't afford it and at the time, none of us would ever wear a pin. But I loved the idea of symbolizing the concept of "sisters." So I used silver, copper, and gold metal plated seed beads. I wanted a stone that would represent women, sisters, bonding. I found some beautiful rhodonite. I didn't want to make the necklaces exactly alike, but make them to reflect our differences despite us being connected by blood. I chose different colors of 6/0 seed beads.

That's Arby's paw in the upper left, holding down the shot.

  

The concept began growing in my mind. I realized there were several women in my life that I recognized as my "sisters." I wanted them to have a necklace too. So I made one for the special women in my life.  Unfortunately, I was in a hurry to mail out their jewelry, I didn't take the photos I should have. I wasn't quite thinking that clearly yet. 

Beading helped me get my life back into perspective. It gave me purpose. It helped me to get my brain functioning again. I temporarily lost the ability to read, count, do simple thought processes. It was a scary, scary time for me. Beading helped me by giving me something to focus and concentrate on and work through logistics of putting a piece together. It helped me burn the last of the medication effects out of me. 

The first piece I put together that helped me to start functioning again.

 It also gave me my new vice. My other vice other than coffee. I may not be able to drink coffee all day long any more, but I can certainly bead all day long! Well, when I can. When students are demanding lessons and graded papers back. When I don't have to clean the house and plan dinner. Or shop for food. Things like that.

 

I found I could make my own funky but stylin' earrings. I found these beads on eBay, created by Terri Stone at TLSClayDesign. I need to finish the bracelets. Did I mention I have a bunch of her beads?  







Middle Sister's birthday is in December. Last year I decided I wanted to give her something special. I found these beautiful clay shields on eBay, designed by Linda of NKDesigns. I saw one that would be perfect for Middle Sister. When it arrived, I discovered that I really liked it. I kept telling myself that once I made it up, it would look like it BELONGED to Middle Sister and I would be happy. Which reminds me, I need to visit her shop and pick up a few more of her beads. It's an addiction, I tell you!

   

Naturally, this set didn't make it to Middle Sister. I LOVED it when I was finished the necklace. I loved it so much, I had to make earrings and a bracelet that can be worn with the necklace or separately. Yeah, I kept the set. Couldn't part with it. Which meant I had to find new beads for Middle Sister's birthday present. But that was ok since I'm up to the challenge of finding new beads. It's like getting a daily fix. It's rewarding. It's thrilling. It's an addiction to put it simply.

This is the set Middle Sister got for her birthday last year. The flowers came from a very talented artist, Mary Ellen at BeeTreeByME.  I told her she could have the clay shield set after I die. 

 

A close up of Middle Sister's birthday necklace.