I broke my 6-day fast on Day 4 with a spoonful of peanut butter. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. I was dripping sweat from my workout but needed to put away the groceries Tony brought home before getting in the shower. While walking the peanut butter to its allotted cupboard, I spun open the lid, grabbed a spoon and dug in before I had the wherewithal to stop myself. And then, I consciously chose to enjoy every single lick of it.
Perhaps it was the salt depletion of the workout. Perhaps it was simply time to eat. But that peanut butter and an ice cold glass of water never tasted so good.
I told Tony that I broke, and he just smiled. “It’s okay, you know,” he said. “Seriously. It’s okay.”
I could have, perhaps should have, gone back to fasting, but I didn’t.
I’m glad there are no rules. I’m glad it’s ok. I’m glad I don’t have to shame and berate myself for enjoying peanut butter as I would have not that many months ago. I’m glad I experienced the determination of Day 3 and it’s mindless opposite on Day 4.
I consciously chose to eat dinner with my family and had popcorn later in the evening. By the end of the night, my belly felt quite miserable and wished I had stuck to my guns. But it’s OK. I can go back to fasting at literally ANY moment.
I’m planning a St. Patrick’s Day themed dinner party on Saturday for a few friends, so my next fasting effort will likely begin again in a few days. In the meantime, I’ll do my best to stick to a small eating window and eat primarily veggies, fat and protein.
It is interesting to note that after a few days of minimal spiritual focus, I fell off the fasting wagon. If I don’t take care of my mind, my mind will sabotage my body. That’s my biggest lesson learned. In the future, perhaps I should put more emphasis on mental, emotional and spiritual pursuits and allow the physical to take shape as I go.
We shall see.
Until the next experiment…