Thanks To Energy Drinks, It's Heart-Attack Summer

I tried to give myself a heart attack last summer. Unemployed and in a creative rut, I spent my summer days consuming energy drinks and getting high at my local park. It was my last summer before finishing my undergrad, my last chance to have an excuse to do nothing at all.

“How much yerba mate can I drink a day?” I would ask Google. “They’re actually really good for you,” some obscure medical site told me after I scrolled to find the answer I was looking for. Ok, so I could drink a dragon fruit Red Bull with it too! I was obsessed with creating the recipe for my ideal summer day.

At my third week of unemployment, I began to feel a little unhinged. Desperate for a routine and hungry to shop, I could only afford a sweet little energy drink. So, I switched out trips to the thrift store for trips to the convenience store. With small aisles and endless options, one could be mistaken for the other.

I’ve always been drawn to the aesthetics of summer more than anything. Growing up, I dreaded spending the entire season away from my friends at my grandmother’s house in Michigan. I dreaded the mosquito bites and shorts weather. My thighs would stick together, and I would cry at the stretch marks peeking through my shorts.

As an only child, I had no one to play with other than TV shows and social media. Instagram and Tumblr pictures with a sepia filter are what kept me going. I’ve always craved creating my perfect summer. I hoped that I too could have ombre hair with beach waves and wear my cutoff shorts at the beach. Now at 22 in Montreal, the pretty canned drinks at the depanneur are my markers for a good summer.

The store’s fridge door cracks open like a cold can of Diet Coke. I weigh my options while the man at the cash register argues with a relative on his phone. The bright hues and berry flavors already have my mouth watering. A fruit punch Guru today, my dear? Maybe I’m craving the tropical punch one instead. I look to my right and catch the glow of a blue Gatorade in my eyes. The sweat from the iced coffee in my hand drips on my pedicured toes. I remember that I’ll need to hydrate at one point, too.

It’ll kill me to choose the wrong drink for my perfect day. “How much happiness does a can of mate contain?” I turned to Google again. “Drink mate to feel euphoric enough to kiss the ground your lovers walk on or to fight off the sleepy sun and finish a chapter of your book.” The r/yerbamate community reassures me it's not addictive.

Something about summer makes me want to run towards my problems. This was my first adult summer as a single woman and all I wanted to do was consume my days with daydreams of a man who didn’t want his days ruined by seeing me.

I arrive at my local park and am already struggling to find a spot to lie in. Summers in Montreal always make you question everyone’s employment status. I’m one of the dozens here with my Red 40-infused drink. I see one guy on a Zoom call at a picnic table. At least someone here is working!

Already sweaty from the humidity, I strip down to my bikini and set my towel on the grass. I light my joint while Weyes Blood blasts in my ears and I drink my tears away. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep with a book on my face as my heart palpitates. I always forget I’m not a functional stoner but I’m addicted to the rush of falling asleep in the park.

The thing with a can of yerba mate is that it’s so caffeinated, drinking one at noon will keep you buzzed for the next 24 hours. If you properly look at the side effects of the caffeine in Gurus and Red Bulls you’ll find insomnia and nervousness to be the most common. Thankfully those are the best cures for unemployment on days when the sun sets at 9 pm.

The man in my life was just as obsessed with the perfect summer day as I was but in a much worse way because the weather would dictate his mood. I caught his illness and longed for my days in the hot sun every time it rained. The month of July turned into one big humid memory. All I can remember of it was the endless attempt at this perfect summer routine.

By the time I wake up from my nap in the grass, I remember I still have three hours of podcasts I planned on listening to. There is never enough summer to consume all the media I need to be caught up with the world. Lucky for me, I could do it all again tomorrow.

My heart attack summer turned into an endless search for a high. Delayed over and over again by cloudy days, I felt lost. My brain was too buzzed to realize I couldn't find myself because I was too busy worrying about why a man couldn’t see me. What else is there to do in the summer when you can’t sulk in the sun and consume copious amounts of guarana? My answer is to let your heart palpitate as the caffeine spills over from day to day.