Les Misérables: A Fasting Recap

By the time I wake up, I’ll have ended a seven-day juice fast. Well, I’ll have ended it before my fellow fasters even begin. See, the fast is supposed to be three weeks, and the third week is juice, but I never do things by anyone’s book, not a recipe, not a curriculum, not a marathon training program. In fact, I consider instructions as a starting point, a point of departure.

Probably because I think I know it all, and I know better than the people who wrote the instructions. This explains why my bookshelf has a shelf on upside down. Directions matter.

Anyway, instead of juicing last, I decided to juice first. Now, I had my reasons: I’d had a ball during the last two weeks of December. I’d been singing and swinging and getting merry like Christmas. I’d eaten and drunk all there was to eat and drink. I’ve been to airport lounges with complimentary cocktails and vegan restaurants with pages of fried and battered treats. My system was done. The scale was frowning.

And when in doubt, call a fast.

I was supposed to be Daniel fasting at the top of the year, but it just didn’t stick. I was still using protein powder and drinking tea at events and reasoning why French fries and plain Ruffles were fine, it’s all fine.

Ha.

So when I saw another chance to fast, I dove in head first… as I often do.

And this one was stricter: no discretionary spending, no social media, and Daniel Fast plus a week of juice.

So I signed up for the newsletter, committed to never pray with them at 7 am or 7 pm, and I shopped for juice ingredients.

Day one felt godly. I was on track. I’d prepared two different juices: green and orange, and I was ready.

And I went to bed starving. But spiritually satisfied. I guess I didn’t need the prayer.

Day two: I packed my juice and went to campus. Still hungry. Less godly.

By day four, I was miserable and I wanted to quit. I was hungry. I wanted to chew something, anything. I was bored with my juices. I was tired of sweetness in my mouth, and I still had three more days, and sooooo many hours.

And no Instagram or Facebook to distract me. And no spending to placate me.

Just myself and watery juice.

Shoot me now.

But, somehow, I stayed the course. I decided to buy carrot juice and pineapple juice. I experimented with different smoothies. I started reading the news on the news apps. I started playing the crossword. And I listened to podcasts. I looked up fellowship applications and even applied to one.

I was productive.

(And hungry.)

And I realized fasting isn’t just about discipline. It’s all focus. It’s about purpose. It’s about alignment.

And I was out of alignment. I’d been allowing myself to be fed by bots and algorithms. I was running up my screen time trying to outrun my responsibilities. I was putting everything off… for nobody.

And tomorrow, the juicing ends, but the social media and spending are still off limits, which is very good because I have so much work to do.

But I’m glad I’ll be doing it on a full stomach.