Comfort Classics

Like most folks, I enjoy a good cup of coffee in the morning. I’m not someone who drinks it all day long, just one large mug to kick start my day. I enjoy the ritual of inhaling its aroma, feeling the warmth of clasping the mug with both hands and slowly becoming one with the day with each sip that passes my lips.

I probably began drinking coffee in college, cream and sugar please. I don’t recall when the addiction to Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer came into play, but it was a shared addiction that I had with my father. No other brand will do. I have tried generic brands and other well-known ones, natural varieties, syrups and other concoctions, but nothing compares to the Original Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer with all the fat, all the sugar, natural and artificial flavorings, and all the chemicals I don’t dare try to pronounce. Its label proudly promotes “Comfort Classics” which it has been for me, for a very long time.

Back in the day, Dad even got my toddler son addicted to it. My son used a pacifier and one morning while sitting at the kitchen table, my dad dipped my son’s pacifier into his coffee and handed it to him. My son enjoyed the natural and artificially flavored sweet sensation so much, he handed his pacifier back to his grandpa for a refill. Once again, Dad dipped it into his coffee and gave it back to my son. The TV was on and so my father stopped paying attention to my son’s repeated requests for more. That’s when my son took matters into his own skilled hands. He tossed this pacifier across the kitchen table, landing it right in Dad’s coffee mug. I believe he grunted as if he was trying to say, “Give me another hit Grandpa.” Yes, this stuff is that addicting.

Oddly enough, as a young man my son drinks his coffee black. He was able to break the habit at a young age, but not me. For decades I have been enjoying my Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer with all the fat and all the sugar. Once, my father bought the wrong one, it was the low fat and low-calorie version. I think I went into convulsions trying to drink it. Every time after that, the bottle was carefully read before making its purchase.

I noticed, when I drank coffee outside of my home at a place that did not serve my drug of choice, it tasted very different. Just using regular cream and sugar will suffice in a pinch, but I did notice that I could taste more of the coffee flavor I enjoy so much when not using the hazelnut creamer. However, once back home I would continue to use the flavored creamer and go on with my life as if nothing had happened. I would forget about the enhanced flavor experience and go back to what I knew best.

Over the years, we have used different brands of coffee, usually whatever was the most economical, but I realized that I was missing the strong coffee flavor I would experience when drinking it outside of our home. I started trying different brands, different origins, different grinds and amounts of grounds, but nothing would give me the strong coffee flavor I craved. I thought maybe it was the coffeemaker itself, so I bought a new one. Nope, that wasn’t it. I even began to grind my own beans in hopes of capturing that enhanced flavor experience, but once again I was disappointed.

Recently, I have been trying to reduce my carb intake. Someone suggested that I start drinking my coffee black or with just heavy cream. I looked at them suspiciously, as if I was encountering some sort of intervention, but it did make sense to give it a try. At first, I used less and less of the Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer, weening myself off the hard stuff. I purchased some heavy cream, not some wimpy half and half and poured a sizable amount into my coffee. Not bad, but I needed a little sugar. Eventually, I stopped adding the sugar and I had a realization, I was having that strong coffee experience I was searching for.

The Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer that I had been addicted to for years, nay decades, was not enhancing my coffee experience, it had been masking it. It wasn’t necessarily the type of coffee or grounds, it wasn’t the coffee maker, it was me and my insisting that I needed to use the natural and artificially flavored creamer that was ruining my coffee enjoyment.

For a couple of months now, I haven’t been using it and so in the name of research, I had a mug of coffee this morning using my old familiar friend. I got excited about the mere thought of using it, the anticipation of taking that first sip of deliciously sweet, naturally and artificially flavored goodness. I tasted it and I made a face of disgust. What is this? Why isn’t this as wonderful as I remember it being? Eww! I poured it down the drain. I needed to get that taste out of my mouth, so I poured myself some coffee, black and took a sip. There it is, the flavor I want, unmasked by Coffeemate Hazelnut Creamer or heavy cream for that matter, just coffee…that’s what I want.

I took another sip and swirled it around my mouth receiving the full blast of its bitterness, its honest to god true flavor and I smiled as I had an epiphany. I realized how often in my life I tell myself, “This is what you want and what you have to do to achieve it, to keep it. You have to accept the lies as truth and you’ll be okay. Just breathe through it and only see what you want to see, only hear what you want to hear.” I closed my eyes and took another sip and savored the darkness of my truth. The darkness of how many lies I have chosen to live with in the name of living the life I was raised to desire. I have always dreamed of having the perfect Mid-Century Modern home, furnished with all the wonderful decor and kitchen accessories the perfect housewife desires. I wanted it all, I could have it all if I just play by the rules, keep quiet, and breathe through it.

I have never experienced physical abuse. I want to make that point perfectly clear. However, I have experienced mental abuse and sometimes, most times that type of abuse leaves scars that last longer and are deeper than physical ones. Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words hurt even more. We reap what we sow and the words we choose, the tone in which we speak creates the recordings that never leave our minds. They may be buried deep in our psyches, most times being imperceptible. However, certain situations, certain words trigger them and they are just as fresh as the moment they were first received.

This past week I had to interact with John, “The Pilot”. It had to do with a financial matter, nothing about an apology or “us”, just business. I handled it in a professional businesslike manner, but the experience took its toll on me. The few words I received from him in an email, discussing old familiar matters, words of people we used to share experiences with, instantly took me back in time to place where I felt safe and loved, where I thought I had someone to share my life with. Just a few familiar words, took me back to a place where I thought I had everything I wanted, everything I needed. Those few familiar words instantly took me back to the dream I had of living happily ever after.

I wanted to respond to the email and tell him about all that has happened since our relationship ended so abruptly. I wanted to tell my “best friend” all the things that he had missed since we had last chatted, but I stopped myself. As painful as it was to stop, I knew it would be much more painful if I opened up that line of communication again, with someone I’m not even certain actually exists. I stopped myself from climbing back into bed, falling asleep and dreaming of the lies I once cherished as my reality.

As I sit here, the tears rolling down my cheeks, I take another sip of black coffee and know there is no going back. I can no longer “just breathe through it”. I am awake now, the coffee and reality have set in. I can no longer only see what I choose to see, only hear what I choose to hear. I can no longer choose the lies to live with because if I do, I will not like their “taste”. The truth may be dark and tough to swallow at times, but its bitterness will set me free, free to see and hear, to taste and feel and to hopefully one day experience true love, a love I so richly deserve.

I still desire the perfect Mid Century Modern home with all the decor and kitchen accessories, but I am not a perfect housewife. I never was and never will be, it’s just not my story. No more natural and artificially flavored versions of reality. I’ll take mine black, please.