Last week was Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of repentance. Not only are you supposed to spend the entire day at temple praying, you are supposed to fast. And not just abstain from food-from water, too.
Needless to say, I’ve never been into the fasting thing. When I was nursing the boys, I had a good reason not to (you’re not supposed to fast when you are pregnant or nursing). But they’ve been weaned for a few years now, so I no longer have that as an excuse reason.
This year, my husband Joel decided he would fast. And so I decided I was going to fast, too.
Sort of.
The more I thought about fasting, the more I realized how anxious just the idea made me. Even contemplating a liquids-only fast made me antsy. I had coffee that morning because I reasoned that if I didn’t have my caffeine I’d just be headachy and hungry and cranky. At least with coffee, I’d eliminate the headache part.
But along came 2 pm, and I gave in. I suppose if I were more religious I would have been more committed and stuck with it; I’d probably also still be at temple, too, where there was no temptation.
Still, I realized that I am genuinely afraid of being hungry-when I live in a land where it’s nearly impossible to avoid food. When I have enough in the pantry and in my booty to last me many weeks.
You’d think after losing 112 lbs I’d have plenty of practice with being hungry, but I’ve worked hard to ensure I’m never truly hungry by planning obsessively, and drinking coffee and green tea when I think I’m getting hungry. Then there is the massive amount of gum I’ve been chewing, my pacifier.
Today, I’m practicing being hungry. I had a large lunch: soup, green salad and spelt salad. I had a big breakfast, too. I was “hungry” two and a half hours after eating lunch.
I’m letting myself experience that hunger. And I’m working on telling myself it’s ok to be hungry. I’ll let you know if it works.
