If you’ve had a gander at my home page, you would see the three pillars I have used to describe my personality are cows, travel and of course, coffee.
A good reason for this is because I, like millions of others, love coffee. Addicted really. If I don’t have my cup in the first hour of being conscious you can be assured I’ll be headachey for the rest of the freaking day.
But that’s not why I have it up there along with my passion for travel, which has brought me around the globe,allowing me to find my perfect home in beautiful Ireland. Coffee is not up there with that gift simply because I like to have a hot drink when I read.
Much like my love of cows, which I only really embraced when I learned not to care what others think of me, I value my love of coffee for a deeper reason.
When I moved to Ireland I was struggling. I was on the tail end of a bad break up. I had just left a country that seemed to be pushing me out no matter how hard I tried to make it work. I came to this country as a failure. Unacceptable for an anxious perfectionist, let me tell you.
I started to find peace on Friday afternoons. The start of my weekend, the start of my routine of finding a cafe, sitting with a cup of coffee and a book. Stephen King novels mostly, as I recall.
Eventually, I found a job in a cafe where I learned the ins and outs of every coffee based beverage you can think of. I worked for the title of Coffee Master. I immersed myself in my work. I truly think it saved me. I think that feeling proud of moving my way up did wonders for my confidence. Complaining about annoying customers and cold managers helped me get through the larger struggles I faced in the past.
I found myself through coffee. I became very good at coffee. I became respected. I learned to respect myself. And yet, I still can’t think of a better way to end the day than with a cup and a good book. Perhaps that is more important when it comes to who I am today.
I don’t mind. Either way, coffee holds a special place in my heart, if you couldn’t tell.