A Long Fast: What I Learned
As I type this, I’m 24 days past the first day of my most recent fasting journey. A quick summary:
September 8th: Deleted Instagram and FB from my phone and stopped recreational drinking. To be clear, this doesn’t count as “fasting,” but it began preparing my body and mind for what was ahead.
September 19th: Began metabolic cleanse which eliminated caffeine, processed foods, sugar, dairy, and seed oils from my diet.
September 24th: Last whole-foods meal around 6:00 pm.
September 25th: Began (what I had hoped would be) a 7-day full fast. Water only.
September 28th: Broke fast with low-sugar kombucha in the late morning. Slowly began reintroducing foods.
October 1: Most (maybe 80 percent) of my strength returned, and I was able to eat more normal meals.
It’s hard to explain the changes I have felt in my body in the few days since the fast. The closest I can come to accurately describing it is it feels like my body and internal systems have undergone a reset to “factory settings.” I realize that’s not how bodies work, but that illustrates the changes I’m feeling. My appetite, my desire for sugar or alcohol, my cravings, my sleep, even the desires within me that dictate how I spend my time; it’s like they’ve all be wiped clean and zeroed out. My best guess is that most of this feeling is a result of the dopamine reset my body went through. As Dr. Mindy Pelz explains it, our bodies are dopamine saturated. Food, naturally, gives us a hit of dopamine and makes us feel good. But when we constantly feast, we are saturating our senses—so much so that it takes more and more food to get the same feeling of happiness that comes from eating. Now that my dopamine system has been reset, it only takes a little food (and my cravings are centered on real, wholesome food) to bring me that happy feeling.
The other day, I walked around in circles in Whole Foods because my body was craving salmon, but I couldn’t decide if I wanted to buy it. I was craving the sushi-grade hunk they sold in the coolers, so I could go home and consume it all immediately. And I was only able to rise above that craving and not buy it because of my knowledge of the “farm raised” portion on all the labels, but it was a serious struggle. My body was so tuned in to its needs and desires—and something in (fresh, wild-caught) salmon was what I needed. I know it wouldn’t have taken eating much to feel better. It was just so crystal clear to my mind’s eye. Before fasting, there were so many other inputs muddying my mind’s eye that made it hard to discern what my body needed, but now the direction is unmistakable.
I also haven’t had a desire to touch my supplements yet. I don’t take a lot—just some OTC vitamins and some stuff for hormone and brain support. But right now, my energy levels are consistent throughout the day (read: no afternoon slump), and I’m thinking clearly and soaring on good endorphins in my relationships. I know this won’t last forever, but, wow, I am loving the respite. This feeling alone is worth doing a long fast again.
Also interesting to note, while my body has gone through a physical reset, my spirit also feels like it’s been set back to “factory settings.” Emotional baggage and general noise and input that overwhelmed my thoughts and decisions has been reduced to an almost imperceptible amount. I feel as if I have the world before me and only the limitation of time to keep me from accomplishing everything I can imagine. I’m not naive to think that this cured and erased all my emotional baggage, but I do believe the weight and “urgency” of it all has been quieted and set back more to its proper place.
And it’s here that I’ve found another surprise in this journey. With all this resetting, including denying myself my favorite comfort vices (namely screens of some sort), I’m faced with a clean slate and a surge of energy, but I feel directionless, like the pin in the compass that can’t find north and just spins in search of its pull. I’m not sure how to handle reintroducing those things in my life—food, caffeine, screens, social media—without worrying that it’ll quickly snowball into the same old patterns. Just the thought of that possibility is repulsive to me.
I heard someone share that the difficulty in denying yourself comfort pleasures is that it doesn’t guarantee you’ll fill your time with something better. For example, if I go off of Instagram for a couple of weeks but I end up catching up on my Netflix queue or scrolling Pinterest instead, what exactly have I accomplished? Similarly, after a long fast, the struggle to reintroduce things back into my life rhythm is based in the same fear—what if I just fill it up again with something else unhelpful?
So what do we do with that fear? I find myself wishing that there were more teachings available about what to do after a fast (especially what to do spiritually speaking) that could teach me how to break fast well. Do you, dear reader, know of any? Please add them to comments if you do!
Here’s the problem . . . If I’m being really honest, I like this “new me” so much that the temptation is to keep up this unsustainable lifestyle of denying myself and fasting for long periods of time. The temptation at times is to not eat or ever go back to social media or ever eat sugar and processed foods again. It’s an extreme ditch that’s not just unsustainable, it’s not helpful or healthy.
I’ll continue praying and contemplating and get back to you. For now, I feel the Holy Spirit nudging me toward studying the word replenish. I suspect some of our answers may be buried in that word. Until then . . . 💛
