Black Coffee, No Sugar
It didn’t come from a book.
Or a podcast.
Or one of those “this changed my life” routines.
I was sitting across from someone once
when she pointed to her coffee and said:
I stopped adding sugar to things that were bitter.
I smiled, thinking she meant the coffee.
She didn’t.
I’ve been carrying that with me lately.
Mostly in the mornings…
barefoot in the kitchen, letting the dogs out,
coffee in hand,
birds already louder than whatever’s in my head.
That’s where things get honest for me.
No noise.
No performance.
No one to explain anything to.
Just me… and the quiet truth of what I’ve been trying to make sweeter than it actually is.
I’m good at adding sugar.
I can take something that doesn’t feel right
and soften it just enough to stay.
Call it “a phase”
instead of misalignment.
Call it “growth”
when it feels like depletion.
Call it “complicated”
when it’s actually just… not for me.
I can make almost anything drinkable.
But drinkable isn’t the same as good.
And I think that’s what hit me.
Not everything bitter is meant to be fixed.
Some things are bitter because they’re not meant for you.
Not yours to carry.
Not yours to solve.
Not yours to keep sipping just because you’ve already poured the cup.
Lately I’ve been asking myself something simple:
If I didn’t add anything to this…
would I still choose it?
No future story.
No “it’ll get better.”
No convincing.
Just this.
As it is.
Right now.
That question doesn’t leave much room to hide.
Because the version of me sitting outside in the morning,
coffee in hand,
watching the birds…
she knows.
She doesn’t negotiate with what drains her.
She doesn’t dress things up to make them easier to swallow.
She doesn’t need a better story to stay.
She just notices…
and then she moves.
I used to think patience meant staying longer.
Now I think sometimes it looks like leaving sooner.
I used to think strength meant enduring.
Now I think it looks like putting the cup down.
Here’s what I know right now:
You don’t have to keep sweetening something that isn’t good for you.
You don’t have to prove you tried hard enough.
You don’t have to keep sipping something that doesn’t feel right in your body.
The right things don’t need sugar.
They don’t need explaining, or adjusting, or hoping they’ll turn into something else.
They just… fit.
Like quiet mornings.
Like fresh coffee.
Like birds that show up every day without asking anything from you.
So here’s the note I’m leaving myself:
Pay attention to what you’re trying to make sweeter.
That’s usually where the truth is.
And if you’re too busy fixing something to notice what’s actually working…
you’re missing the whole point.
Put the cup down if you need to.
Then go outside.
Feed the birds.
