How About Some Decaf?

This morning, I fixed myself decaf after my first full-throttle cup because I felt my mind and life racing fast enough already, and I held 15 mg of quality CBD tincture under my tongue while the neutered cup brewed—sublingual absorption gets the medicine to the brain quickly. I have the rare experience of being off work today and mostly alone, so after I put my son on his school bus, I puffed on some Member Berry, a fruity hybrid strain that doesn’t set off my anxiety but still sharpens my focus, and I felt on the precipice of overdoing the stimulants. I need to keep it balanced. My brain is too jumpy for untempered THC on my best days, and the jury is still out on what kind of day I’m having. So when I thought about my second cup of coffee, I self-disciplined myself into decaf. Self-Care needs Self-Awareness today so Self-Destruction doesn’t grab the wheel.

I’m off work because my boss “gave me some time” after I got passionately scolded by an Important Corporate Person (ICP) on the telephone yesterday afternoon. That word—telephone—has become delicious to me lately. There’s conceptual joy in the full form for me. It means “far sound” in Latin, and I don’t ever want to lose sight of the miracle of sending and receiving far-away sounds at will and on demand. It may have been a cellular one, but it was a “telephone” on which this person huffed, puffed, and berated me two hours before I needed to host A Corporate Event I’d requested he speak at. It didn’t feel cellular and contemporary, this conversation; it felt like a painful scene in Mad Men where Peggy is getting her self-esteem crushed. It was very much a telephone through which the ICP told me my failure to provide talking points and an agenda made this “whole thing…ridiculous…unacceptable…do you understand how ridiculous this is?”

But I’d written an agenda. I’d provided talking points in an email titled “____’s Talking Points,” and all of it had been sent to his assistant over the past month, a person with whom I’d also met during the non-ridiculous and acceptable planning period preceding the event. The assistant didn’t put any of it in front of him or on his calendar.

My resilience was really down when that occurred, because I’d been up since 4:30 in the morning engaging in the final text debate of a slow-drip breakup with my partner of the past year. I can do unhealed trauma (I have my own), but not untreated (he refuses therapy while exhausting himself on a hamster wheel of breakdowns that involve emotionally breaking his partner so they can reconcile…trauma bonding on repeat ad nauseum, ’til death. I’ve been there. I worked really hard to get better, now harder to stay better). The night before, I sat on my steps and talked to the full moon and asked Her to take away whatever needed to go; the morning-after decisiveness from him didn’t surprise me…but we’re both articulate and verbose artist types. Every text was knives between us: petite boning blades and occasional butchers. We’ve been breaking up and making up since the beginning; I just didn’t fight him on it this time. The day’s marathon of wrestling with the urge to have the last word and sometimes spouting out anyhow despite wisdom had eroded my fortitude.

I called my boss sobbing and cussing after the ICP chewed on my patience and self-worth, the event went forward successfully, and I’ve been given a day to “recover.” My ex slut-shamed me in a long tirade laced with an insidious, passive-aggressive request for my sympathy for how insecure he feels because of my unchaste past, and I blocked him.

I’m off. The laptop my company provided and remotely monitors is closed on the couch, and I’m typing this on the new little beauty I bought a few weeks ago. I put away pictures of me and the no-longer-partner yesterday, but today I gathered up the partly-full water bottles he’d left and threw them out. Normally I use them for my diffuser, misting them along with calming and balancing oils in my kitchen. Recycling. Today I threw the bottles away. He breathed poison, and his breath can’t scent my atmosphere.  

Decaf and CBD, thought-sorting, and solitude. These are my medicines today.

4 thoughts on “How About Some Decaf?

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