Want to Find Yourself? Have a Decaf Coffee With Raw Milk and Some Peanut Butter Powder
At least, that's how I did it.
“Life isn't about finding yourself, it's about creating yourself.”
Whenever we search the Internet for inspirational quotes to help us get through hard times, this invariably appears. But what does it even mean? When we see it, those of us who aren’t particularly sentimental might scoff at it, but I’d tell them that even if they feel that way, they should hold that thought and listen to what others have to say.
I’ve always considered that I created myself when I discovered the magic of writing at age ten in fourth grade, which is why you’re reading my work now. But enough about me. My point is, since I created myself, I’ve been trying to find myself for the last fifteen years, but no matter how much I put pen to paper, it didn’t really work, or at least, not how I expected it to. Sure, I felt better when I finished working, and of course, the hurricane of my thoughts formed a cohesive narrative, but despite my effort, I felt no closer to peeling back the layers of my soul and seeing myself for the first time.
That is, until I had my first real coffee. Yeah, I know it might sound a little alternative, but let me explain. True, American coffee culture has ensured that it’s remained the national beverage – that is, soda hasn’t replaced it – but despite its prevalence, I’ve never been the biggest fan, especially since I can only tolerate a little caffeine at best. I mean, I’ve gotten a decaf caramel frappe once or twice from Starbucks during the summer, particularly to celebrate my birthday. Other than that, though, I never really touched the stuff, not least because I always thought that somehow, something about Starbucks’ woke corporate culture made the coffee taste bland, if not bad, particularly when an incompetent employee prepared it. (After a study in June 2017 identified poor health standards, I swore I’d never have Starbucks again, which lasted about two and a half years.)
Well, fast forward eight years, and picture me now in February 2025. Nine months before in May 2024, I graduated magna cum laude with a B.A. in English from a highly prestigious university in the Northeastern U.S. as a member of Sigma Tau Delta, the English honor society. (From August 2022 to May 2024, I served on the executive board of my school’s chapter as the membership officer.) Despite my writing skills, though, I haven’t been able to find anything permanent, whether it’s editing or copywriting. Aside from the two virtual classes I take each week to obtain my M.A. in Writing Studies, I spend most of my time writing either my first book – I’ll present it as my thesis, and I’m determined to be a bestselling author – or my first play; I’ve always been passionate about the arts, and I’m determined to have a theatrical debut as well. Beyond that, I also check Twitter – it’s much more fun to say than X – multiple times a day, almost compulsively.
Currently, I’m not on social media, but Twitter’s been my number one since it gained prominence during COVID, and then even more so when Elon bought it. Whenever I need a break from the media’s endless slop, all the neatly organized little tweets, a one-second glimpse into a stranger’s mind, just hit the spot, especially since the accounts I usually browse are about beauty, ancient cultures, healthy lifestyles, or a mix of the three subjects.
And if there’s something we all know, it’s that if Twitter’s health accounts were booming during Trump’s campaign and reelection in November 2024, then they’ve just exploded since he retook the White House in January 2025. For one, I couldn’t appreciate it more; such a significant cultural change meant that a big part of the timelines I followed – not officially, but you get the idea – began promoting the benefits of coffee, the benefits of coffee, and the benefits of coffee.
As you can imagine, I was more than a little skeptical when I first saw it, but then I thought that if I’m already consuming such content on a superficial level, then it wouldn’t hurt to review it more in-depth. If I don’t like it, I can always stop reading, and if I ever need clarification, Google is only a click away. As it turns out, these accounts – these people – taught me that among other things, decaf coffee antioxidants, which help combat free radicals and promote overall health. These antioxidants contribute to numerous health benefits, including reduced inflammation and enhanced heart health. Moreover, the absence of caffeine allows for better sleep quality, as caffeine can interfere with sleep patterns.
After reading about it for a while, I was eager to test it out. Personally, I’m convinced that the sweeter a coffee is, the better, so I never hesitated to add either organic brown sugar or organic raw agave nectar and sometimes both. And then, because I’m a health nut, I loved nothing more than to add a tablespoon of peanut butter powder, followed by so much raw milk that all the liquid spilled over the big mug onto the plate, filling the kitchen and surrounding area with a wonderful aroma of home and comfort. At first, I didn’t really know what to think of my coffee. Even if I added a mountain of sugar, nectar, milk, and whipped cream, too, which I loved to eat off the surface with a spoon, I didn’t know what to make of the fact that despite buying a decaf Nescafé medium roast, it was still quite bitter, an unusual taste; I could say much the same about peanut butter, of which I’d never been the biggest fan, but I was starting to surprise myself.
Regardless, my coffee smelled delicious, and I couldn’t wait to savor something that wasn’t premade, something that I’d made. Admittedly, it lit my tastebuds on fire as I worked my way through it, and I pursed my lips to keep from spitting out the fire, but when the sensation passed, its warmth just suffused me, wrapping me in a big hug from all the loved ones that I hadn’t seen from in so long. Once I tasted the feeling, though, I just wanted more and more, and...another sensation was starting to grow, too.
At the table, I had my phone on me so I could check Twitter, and when I opened it, the first tweet I saw was that one of my favorite accounts posted that they’d just uploaded their newest Substack article. Simultaneously, I was almost at the end of my cup, and the slower I sipped to make it last longer, the more and more idea the idea gained its full form. No matter how many divergent paths I’d taken – or tried to take – in life, they all reminded me, sooner or later, that above all, I was born to be a writer. (I’m convinced that my fate was decided in July 1979, twenty years before I was born, when Dire Straits, one of my favorite bands, released “Lady Writer.” Really, it’s no joke. My dad and I are big fans.)
Regardless of whatever other subject I studied, whether at school or through a self-learning platform, nothing compared to the pure joy of gripping a freshly sharpened pencil and directing my hand to dance across the page until I couldn't continue; the faster I went, the sooner my pages came alive, sparkling with the glimpses of the new world I was creating. For however long I worked, the real world fell away and was replaced with pure magic, and whenever it ended, I couldn’t wait for it to start again so that I could understand the magic even better. That said, if there’s anything I’ve learned about writing since August 2020, it’s that a.) you have to be excellent if you want to make an impact, and b.) all genres, even non-fiction, are ultimately about two things: a genuine connection with the audience, and escapism, immersing the reader into a new world that hopefully leads them to discover something new about either themselves or humanity.
But anyway, back to the story. Between the Substack notification on Twitter and the coffee’s steam tickling my nose playfully, it was like the seed in my head sprouted in full bloom, and I couldn’t wait to bring it to fruition. I’d always loved discussing culture and politics, and I figured I needed an outlet for my regret that I didn’t study political science in college, not even one class. Substack, I decided, would be where I finally connected with people through writing, the best way I knew how, and one that I’d spent years honing. Best of all, Substack was truly a platform that protected and promoted free speech, not like those annoying university newspapers where they wouldn’t hesitate to dismiss you for not toeing the institutional line. After all these years, I’d finally found one of the biggest answers to many of my most significant questions, and I could practically taste what it would feel like to be heard.
And now, as I write this, I can’t really remember the last time I felt so happy and genuinely fulfilled, not to mention that I couldn’t have asked for a better place to finally unleash my voice. All too often, the journey to self-discovery can often feel like a nebulous construct, especially since we expect it to be a big thing, but it’s not a destination; it’s an ongoing journey. And ultimately, all we need to do is slow down and be present, and what better way to do it than to enjoy one of life’s simplest pleasures? At the risk of sounding cliché, this is one of those things that can’t be described, only experienced, and I know now that I’ve found myself on here, this is definitely the start of something different for me.
So let’s raise a cup to coffee, an energizing drink in more ways than one!
Thank you again for reading my work! If you’re so inclined, please consider buying me a $5 coffee on my Ko-fi page.
