I spent most of Wednesday morning at work lying comatose on the office floor staring into space. Some people meditate to get into that state, but all I had to do was decide to quit tea for a day, and the result was an inability to do anything. At one point I went for a walk but kept wanting to lie down and sleep. At one point I thought that if I had a heart attack at least it would be an excuse to lie down in the street.
Doctor Bob explained why I've been having so many cigarette dreams since I started drinking tea. He says that one addiction reminds me, on a psychosomatic level, of the other one.
I haven't smoked in twenty-five years, but I still remember what it was like. Awful. The time-wasting narcissistic biochemistry, always wondering "is it time for my next ciggie yet? Maybe if I have a cup of tea then the next smoke will taste better." And then punctuating every activity with a fag - one to wake me up, one because I've finished breakfast, one at the bus stop, one because I've got off the bus. And so on throughout the day. "Are there enough left in this packet to see me through till tomorrow?" Going to bed when the packet's empty, then getting up again to jog across the city through the rain to find a shop still open.
And it's true that the tea thing is getting out of hand here in the same way. Any excuse for another cup - one to wake me up, one before I start work. This morning I tried going cold turkey once again. I managed a joyless tealess walk with the dog, but before lunch I felt a tea-withdrawal headache coming on, so of course I had to brew up. Medicinal purposes you see.
Still, I'm fortunate that I've got the good addiction, without the bad one to balance it up.