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A caffeine overdose has taught me that writing is my
reason to live.
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About two
years ago there was a day when I had too much caffeine. I suffered from
insomnia and to fix my inability to concentrate I was taking caffeine pills and
drank much coffee; additionally, I was stressed and depressed which resulted in
lost control over the amount of caffeine I consumed. So when night fell I
experienced the worst caffeine shock of my life.
To say I
couldn't sleep would be an understatement. Even though with my brain I knew my
symptoms weren't that dangerous (compared to the symptoms people
actually die from) I still had a really bad anxiety attack. Well, it wasn't
that bad that I lost control over myself. In fact, I was still pretty capable
of pondering about whether I could handle it myself or whether I should call
the ambulance. And in the end it all turned out very well for me: I didn't need
any medical help, I somehow managed to force myself to lie down and wait all
night until the anxiety ebbed away and I didn't consume more caffeine than one
cup of coffee or black tea per day ever since.
So what
does this life lesson have to do with art? Well, while half of my brain was
still functional and allowed me to reflect on my condition the other half was
convinced I would drop dead any minute. I had that instinctive, savage fear
we usually have when facing serious danger. So my state was a bit like standing
in a burning house with all your senses telling you you're going to die while
with your brain still understanding that the burning house is only an illusion.
The animal inside wants to run for safety while the brain knows you only have
to wait.