A few months ago, I decided to ease off coffee—not entirely, but deliberately.
Not because I suddenly saw it as unhealthy. I still enjoy a strong, well-made cup.
But I’d started noticing something: coffee wasn’t helping me focus anymore.
It was just keeping me going. Like a silent crutch I leaned on to push through one more meeting, one more task, one more Slack message at 10 p.m.
As a software engineering manager, my days are stacked—back-to-back meetings, code reviews, one-on-ones, planning sessions, unexpected incidents, roadmap pressure, and team morale.
Add hiring, strategy, and endless context-switching on top of that.
So, when I paused the coffee ritual, I expected a few sluggish mornings.
What I didn’t expect was the wave of exhaustion that followed.
But it wasn’t caffeine withdrawal.
It was something much deeper—an awareness of just how much I’d been running on autopilot.
Coffee had been numbing the signals. I was sprinting through days that needed slowing down.
Starting early, skipping breaks, powering through with little time to think or breathe.
And in the silence left by the missing buzz, I could hear the fatigue loud and clear.
Without the caffeine gloss, I started seeing things as they were.
Tense stand-ups. Friction in meetings over the smallest things.
A sense that no one—myself included—was operating from a place of clarity or calm.
We were all stretched thin.
My empathy was running on fumes, and that impacted how I showed up for my team.
I also began noticing something bigger.
The system we’re in—the hustle, the speed, the performance mindset—rewards output over well-being.
It convinces us that we’re doing something noble by sacrificing ourselves for delivery dates and OKRs.
That pushing through is just part of the job.
But at what cost?
In recent months, I’ve lost a few people in my life—friends and family, gone too soon.
And it’s made me question the whole thing.
Is this the path forward? Meeting fatigue, sleep-deprived mornings, inbox anxiety, and an endless race toward what?
When I stopped using coffee as a buffer, I started listening—to my body, my mind, and my own disconnection.
And I began to reintroduce moments of stillness into the day.
A walk. A proper lunch. A single, unrushed coffee for pleasure, not survival.
I’m learning that we don’t need more energy hacks.
We need gentler rhythms.
We need to value deep work and deep rest.
To be present with our teams, not just productive around them.
So no, this isn’t about coffee.
It’s about what we’re covering up when we use it as fuel.
And whether we have the courage to step off the treadmill, even briefly, and ask:
Is this working?
Because maybe the answer isn’t “do more.”
Maybe it’s “feel more.”
And choose better.
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