You Got This: From Fasting to Freedom
Five days. No food. Just water. If you had told me a year ago that I would willingly go five days without eating, I would have laughed, probably while taking bite out of my favorite chocolate chip cookie. But here I am, on the other side of one of the most challenging and eye-opening experiences of my life, and I need to talk about it.
Today I “broke fast” and it was surprisingly emotional. I thought I would be running to the kitchen, but instead I found myself feeling a mix of sadness and pride. Sad because it is the end of the road for something so transformative, but proud of the fact that I. DID. THAT. My first meal was anticlimactic- a cup of warm bone broth and a bowl of yogurt. And it was the most delicious meal I have ever had in my life. Not only did it nurture my body, but it nurtured my spirit too.
Hunger has a way of stripping away distractions. By day two, I felt something I rarely experience—complete presence. There was no numbing out with snacks, no mindless munching while scrolling through emails, no coffee to jolt me into focus. It was just me, fully aware of every sensation, every emotion, every breath. I thought fasting would make me feel weak, but instead, I felt more alive. My mind was clear, my energy was surprisingly steady, and for the first time in a long time, I was truly listening to my body instead of drowning it out with food or caffeine.
We love to tell ourselves we’re capable of overcoming obstacles. But it’s one thing to believe you can do hard things and another to prove it to yourself. Every time I felt doubt creep in, I had to ask myself: what do I need right now to rise above my own limitations? The answer was never external. It wasn’t food, distraction, or reassurance from others. It was self-trust. It was choosing, moment by moment, to keep going. This fast showed me that true confidence isn’t about bravado—it’s about keeping promises to yourself when no one is watching, when no one is cheering, when quitting would be easy.
I always thought I was someone who faced discomfort head-on. Turns out, I was just really good at avoiding it. The hunger was manageable. The silence? The stillness? The emotions that surfaced without the usual distractions? That was the real challenge. I found myself reaching for my phone, craving social media or TV—not because I was hungry, but because I was uncomfortable. Sitting with my feelings, unbuffered by food or entertainment, was a whole new level of self-awareness. And guess what? When I stopped trying to escape, I realized that the discomfort wasn’t as unbearable as I thought. It was just unfamiliar.
As I went through each day, I realized that reading about the experience of others who had been on the same journey really helped. It made me realize that even when we are going through something challenging, we are never truly alone. I’ve always been fascinated with water fasting and it has been something I’ve been experimenting with for years, but I never made it this far. I was so surprised by how similar my experience was to so many others and found that fasting did something I didn’t expect- it opened up my spirituality pathway. I am not particularly religious, but I’ve struggled recently to plug-in to something bigger than myself. Miraculously, fasting got me closer to something. I don’t know what it is just yet, but this connection to universe is one I am excited to strengthen in the future.
This one shocked me the most. You’d think people would cheer me on, right? Nope. Most responses were some version of: “That’s not safe.” “You need to eat.” “Why would you starve yourself?” But here’s the thing—many of these same people drink alcohol multiple times a week, skip workouts, and don’t think twice about those choices. I had to ask myself: is this really about me? Or is my commitment making them confront their own limitations? I realized that people are uncomfortable with discipline they don’t understand. They will try to bring you back to their comfort zone, not because they want to hurt you, but because they can’t imagine pushing themselves in the same way. No judgment—just an observation.
When I started feeling unsure, when my mind started whispering just eat something, no one will know, the one voice that kept me grounded was my husband’s. Every time I wavered, he simply said: “You got this.” Not “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Not “Maybe you should stop.” Just unwavering belief in me. And sometimes, that’s all we need—someone who sees our strength when we start to doubt it ourselves.
This fast wasn’t about deprivation. It was about discipline, clarity, and proving to myself that I am stronger than my cravings, my doubts, and my need for external validation. I walked away with more than I ever expected—mental resilience, emotional clarity, and a new understanding of what it means to truly commit to something. Would I do it again? Definitely. Would I trade this experience for anything? Not in a Million Years
P.S. Fasting isn’t for everyone. If you’re considering it, talk to a doctor first. This is not medical advice—just my personal journey of growth, grit, and self-discovery.