Yesterday was one of those days that truly sucked; no amount of raw food action, no matter how alkalizing to my blood, could buoy the despair that ruled most of the day.
It started by coming out of a dream that was so inviting that I got mad when I realized I had woken up! I'd been visiting an old friend, who in Dreamland still looked 20 but had the calm, elegant life I have always coveted and never been able to afford, a job as a college professor, a piano, a small clean airy house.
When I awoke to the entire month's bills still stacked precariously on the dehydrator -- which EVERY DAY I plan to get to but something more immediate always supersedes -- and another nonstop day of work with frantic driving around to do good deeds and promote my business, it was too much. With no coffee, no potatoes, no muffins, I had no clue why I started this project. After all, last year I abandoned the same experiment for a reason -- it was too hard! When the going got tough, the tough ... ate Veggie Booty.
When I started hearing thoughts in my head that were literally looking forward to death, I decided to put things in perspective. It's time to have a freakin' cup of coffee. If my quality of life truly will double with a shot o' the bean, then so be it; I cannot bear to be so unhappy, and nothing else -- not meditation, not gratitude, nothing else could make me care.
And you know what? I know at least that the suffering that results from drinking coffee later than about 11 a.m. is not worth even a serious mood enhancement, so I decided to have a cup the next day. And during my next client, my body kindly reminded me of why I felt it necessary to eliminate my friend Java: my digestion got a bit upset, as if from the acid that is the nemesis in a cup o' joe.
Oh yeah, in addition to sleep disturbances, greater long-term tiredness, and bad breath, I get acid stomach and feel like crap! This memory undoubtedly helped me lighten up, as did getting out of the house and spending a few hours distributing fliers. I got better and better, as I met interesting people, found an adorable little boutique that has a giant birdcage for a changing room, and found a little dead animal to dissect (preparation for my cadaver lab that starts this week, and one of my more unusual quirks). By evening, I even WANTED nothing but oranges for dinner!
No, I still have not gotten to the Leaning Tower of Piece-a-Mail, and there are still dozens of places I need to hit up to distribute info for this raw-oriented event coming up, and the oranges were so late that I had to get up and pee in the middle of the night. But the worst has passed, and my still-coffee-free self remembers once again why I am doing what I do.