Caffeine and Consent

Fast food is a treat!

Sugar is a treat!

Caffeine is a goddamn blessing sometimes.

And I mean that in the most reverent, fully-caffeinated way possible. The thing is, when I was a kid, none of these things were “allowed.” Not really. Not with joy. Not with balance. Not with that soft internal yes that comes from someone saying, “Hey, this isn’t evil, it’s just food.”

Nope.

These were bad. Capital-B Bad. Sugar was poison. Fast food was trash. Caffeine was what people with no self-respect consumed.

And so, of course, I learned to either avoid it with militaristic rigidity or — more likely — binge it when no one was looking, soaked in shame and that sweet, fizzy rebellion.

It’s taken me way too long to realize I don’t want to be in a power struggle with food.

Especially not my own food choices.

I don’t want to keep living like every snack is a tiny moral crisis.

I don’t want to look down on myself every time I want a Coke, fries, or a fancy latte. I don’t want to parent myself like my mother did — with fear, judgment, or the underlying assumption that I cannot be trusted.

Because here’s the kicker: I can.

I can be trusted.

I’m not eight anymore. I’m not gonna eat five Twinkies and lie about it (okay, I might, but now it’s a CHOICE, not a secret). And more importantly, not everything needs to be a nutritional referendum.

Sometimes it’s just lunch.

So, how do I shift that?

How do I move from restriction and rebellion into something that feels like support? I think it starts with acknowledging that all of my parts — the caretaker, the brat, the rebel, the rule-follower — all want me to feel good.

They have different strategies.

The rebel says, “You can’t tell me what to eat; I’ll have a caramel macchiato and a hashbrown, and you can’t stop me.”

And honestly? Iconic.

The rule-follower says, “We need protein, fiber, water, supplements, Whole30, go go go.”

And okay, sure. Useful. Sometimes.

The brat? The brat wants ice cream for dinner.

Fair.

The caretaker? Just wants us to have energy, joy, comfort, grounding, and maybe a vegetable.

So what if they’re all right? What if none of them are the enemy? What if the key is talking to them and letting them all have a say — not just letting one person hijack the conversation?

Fast food is a treat.

Sugar is a treat.

Caffeine is a treat.

These are options, not dangers. They’re not prescriptions or punishments. They’re not loaded unless I load them. And no, we’re not going to become our mother. We’re not swinging the pendulum back to restriction, fear, or superiority.

We’re choosing presence. Intention. Pleasure. Autonomy.

And maybe some fries.

Because they taste AMAZING.