I Had $5 and a Mug Shot: How a Cup of Coffee Saved My Life
May you find the anchor in your storm. May you find that lighthouse — that beam of light cutting through the fog to guide you back. May you find your center again.
Life can swish you one way, then throw you all the way back the other. It’s easy to lose your footing. You didn’t mean to; it can happen to any one of us. You look down and suddenly realize you aren’t where you thought you’d be. You’ve been moved. Displaced. And you ask yourself, “How did that happen?”
Life is hard. It’s painful. It’s glorious. It’s a party, and then it’s a chore. It’s rugged, slow, and monotonous — then it’s fast and chaotic. It is charming and peaceful, a walk in the park, right until it’s a tragedy. It’s easy-peasy and luxurious, then it’s full of worry.
Yeah, life is a lot. It’s so much.
I write for the broken and the seeking. I’ve known poverty and abuse; I’ve been abandoned and I’ve been homeless. I have had a flawless reputation, and I’ve had one associated with a mug shot. I have been an inspiration to some and a detriment to others.
I’m sharing this because I’ve been through the “swishes.” And I know that no matter the circumstance, you can find your way back.
“My coffee is warm and the Lord is with me.”
That’s my anchor. No matter the circumstance, it’s what I have in the present moment. Let me break down why that matters.
I was going through a divorce. My kids were young, and I wanted nothing more than to be the best father figure in their lives. I loved raising them; I loved being out in the world with them. They were my crew, my squad — my “goonsquad,” as I called them. Because of that, moving out was more than just a change of address; it was a displacement of my soul and my identity.
Then, the “swish” hit again. My business started going under because my partner was stealing from me. I was losing my income stream exactly when I needed it most. To stay afloat, I took a job as an event caterer, which eventually turned into serving at a fine-dining restaurant.
That meant working every evening — the only time my kids were actually available.
So there I was: separated, working a job I didn’t want, in a role that was all-consuming, and missing my kids at the most pivotal time in their lives. It was a lot. Then, to put the cherry on top, I got notice that their mother was moving them out of state. No warning. No conversation. She was just taking them, moving them away to live with a new fiancé.
It was a lot on top of a lot. It was the swish of all swishes.
Every dollar I had was already gone before I earned it. It was going to a business lawyer to save what I could, while I barely scraped by on rent, food, car repairs, insurance, and everything the kids needed. I was treading water as hard as I could, until I just couldn’t anymore.
The math of it all — the financial worry, the distance from my kids, the legal battles, the job I didn’t love, the depression — it added up to a weight I couldn’t carry. I needed a place where it all stopped.
I found it at a coffee shop.
I probably had five dollars to my name (maybe less), and I used it to buy one cup of coffee. I sat down at the counter. The vibes were vibin’. It was a cool scene — decent people, a beautiful space, the clings and clangs of spoons and cups, the smell of roasted beans wafting through the air. I looked around and realized: I was in a good spot.
I felt my feet on the floor. I sat up a little taller and pulled my shoulders back. I felt the air enter my lungs and watched my chest swell. Then, I let it go, feeling my shoulders relax and my chest soften on the exhale.
I pulled my at away from the pain, from everything that bothered. I pulled my attention to myself — I was safe. I was warm. I was covered. I had coffee, I had my health, and I had breath. I was here.
In that moment, I realized that all the worries lived somewhere else — they lived in Tomorrow-land. All the pains lived somewhere else, too — they lived in Yesterday-land. As long as I stayed in the present, I was okay.
I just needed to keep stacking present moments on top of present moments.
I saw the truth: Anxiety is invisible. Emotional distress is invisible. But the feet on the floor? That was real. The air in my lungs? That was real. My health in that second? That was real. The smells? The warmth of the coffee? Real and real.
Stay in the present.
The present is where Peace lives.
Everything changes. The cities I’m in, the people I meet, the friends who come and go. The jobs I hold, the places I live, the places I visit. One day I’m glad, the next I’m sad. I’m good, then I’m not so good. I have a lot, then I have nothing.
Everything changes. But every day, I have found that my coffee is warm and the Lord is with me.
Or, if you prefer, my coffee is warm and my breath is with me. Don’t get hung up on the “Lord” part — let’s look at the “Breath-thing.” Your breath is real. You can feel it. It can calm you and quiet a loud mind. It is a soothing wave in and a softening wave out. Inhale, exhale.
Your breath — it literally keeps you alive.
Follow your breath back to your pulse. Feel your heart. Use that breath to slow down. Try to still your pulse and find that quiet, sacred space between the exhale and the next inhale.
Your breath is with you all the time.
That is why journaling is such an essential practice for me. I sit down, I get a black coffee, and I open my journal. It is a moment that reminds me, again and again, that this present moment is the only thing separating tomorrow from yesterday. And that feels nice. It’s fucking fantastic actually. I’m obsessed with the present moment.
Yesterday is gone. Tomorrow hasn’t happened yet.
What’s real is right now, and right now is good. So, stay here. Live in it as much as possible. Look. See. Settle in. Smell, sip, savor, and feel. Inhale, exhale, and just be. Be here.
Live in it. Settle in and just hang out here. Don’t have to have an agenda. Just wait.
Everything changes.
The scenery shifts, the seasons turn, the people come and go, and the struggles evolve. The “swish” of life never truly stops. But this remains the same, each and every day:
My coffee is warm and my breath is with me.
I don’t know what your “swish” looks like right now. I don’t know if you’re treading water in Tomorrow-land or lost in the fog of Yesterday-land. But I know you’re here.
You have a pulse. You have breath.
If the world feels like it’s moving too fast or pulling you too far from the shore, stop. Feel your feet. Pull your shoulders back. Take that wave in and let that wave out.
Or maybe it feels too heavy — like it’s suffocating you or suppressing you. Just wait it out. It’ll change. It’s not fun; I know that full well. Life can’t all be sweet. Sometimes it’s sour — very sour. But it will change.
Because everything changes.
Find your breath. Listen to it. Feel it. Pull it in. Be intentional with it. And when the thoughts and the anxiety get loud — breathe louder. Listen to your breath. Breathe. Again and again and again. Trust the process. Stay in the moment. Stay here.
Find the soothing, the healing, and the peace you seek in your breath. It’s there. It has been there the whole time.
And when the thoughts and the anxiety get loud — breathe louder.
You don’t have to figure out the whole ocean today. You just have to find your anchor.
Let’s start stacking moments together.
Peace be with you.
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