Week 3 - 49 years 3 weeks today

​On the day I began writing this at exactly 8:34 am, I completed a 36 hour fast. It was the 4th week in a row that I fasted from Sunday evening until Tuesday morning, consuming only water, herbal tea, and black coffee. The rest of the week I ate normally.

​A month ago I decided that I was going to try one 36 hour fast to see how it went. If I liked it and it wasn’t torturous, I decided I would commit to 3 more weeks of fasting to see how that felt. The idea of trying a 36 hour fast came from extensive research into ways I might be able to manage some health issues I’ve been having. The more I read about ways to manage my health, the more 36 hour fasting came up, and the more intrigued I became with it.

​After the first fast I felt energized, lighter, fresher, more aware and alert, and just overall better. The time fasting was not torturous at all. There were definitely moments when I felt my belly rumble, but sucking down water from my water bottle helped.

​I also had A LOT of conversations with myself during those first 36 hours. I would say things to myself like, “ooooh, a cookie would be yummy right now”. And I’d respond to myself, something along the lines of “You’re not chained up in a Turkish prison. You can eat a cookie if you want to. Is that what you want?”

​And every time I did that, I’d answer myself, “No. I want to keep my fast.” And I would. And I did. And now it’s been 4 weeks in a row that I’ve completed a 36 hour fast, including fasting on my birthday. And while it wasn’t the easiest thing I’ve ever done, it certainly wasn’t that hard.

​I’ve put a lot of thought into why I’ve been able to do this. Self discipline is definitely not what I’m known for. Doing hard things by choice is also not my forte. But here’s what I’ve discovered…

​Pretty much all of the really good health and wellness advice I’ve ever gotten I now believe was wrong. This means that a lot of the health and wellness advice I’ve given has been wrong, or at least not entirely right. If you were on the receiving end of my less than stellar advice, I apologize. I didn’t understand this nuanced perspective until now.

​I’ve said it to myself and others 1,000 times - Pick something you enjoy so you’ll stick with it. This is standard health and wellness advice. It makes sense, doesn’t it? If you hate riding a bike, committing to riding your bike to work as a form of exercise is not a good idea. If you hate lettuce, committing to eating salad everyday for your nutritional needs is also not a great idea. Conversely, if you love hiking in the woods and live near a hiking trail then it stands to reason that deciding to hike 3 times a week is a good idea.

​OK, yes. This is all true. So why then, do we sooooooooo often decide to make a change for our own benefit, choose something we enjoy, and still not follow through?

​We may start out strong and fizzle out after a few days or weeks. Or we may never get started in the first place because we never feel completely prepared or ready. We think we need to get more of our shit together before we begin.

​Insider tip: We will never have our shit sufficiently together. Period. Full stop. I see that as an unrealistic expectation, and an excuse to stay in our comfort zone. If you have all of your shit together, check your pulse because you might be dead.

​But I digress.

​I believe what made this fasting experience different for me is that I decided to focus on what I wanted for myself rather than what I needed to fix.

​Such. A. Huge. Difference.

​I think the reason we don’t stick with changes, even when we choose things we enjoy is because we are, often without realizing it, making those choices out of frustration, negative self-judgment, self-criticism, and fear.

​Albert Einstein said, “We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.” And I would bet a lot of money that the habits and characteristics we have that we’d like to change all have their origin somewhere in the deep, dark recesses of negative self-judgment, self-criticism, and fear.

​Ultimately, this blog is not about fasting at all. It isn’t even about making healthy choices. All the healthy choices in the world won’t help us get healthy if we’re doing them to try to fix what we perceive as broken. Fasting doesn't help me feel better because of the fast itself. I feel better fasting because when I’m doing it, I know I’m doing it because I love myself. I’m not thinking about fixing myself or trying to be better so that I’m more lovable or more acceptable.

​We cannot shame or judge or criticize ourselves into healthy choices and then expect those choices to make a positive difference. When I did intermittent fasting in the past, it worked for a little while, but I couldn’t keep it up. And I wasn’t even ever fasting for more than 18 hours at a time. Eventually I’d quit. The difference between then and now is the energy behind my choice to fast.

​Change isn’t about getting better, although that is usually a byproduct. Change is about expanding, being more of who you are. It’s about having more love to share and more joy to spread. Change is not about fixing what’s broken, it’s about revealing the perfection that’s underneath the judgment and criticism. It’s about systematically shedding the crap we’ve absorbed over a lifetime that says we’re not perfect as we are. It’s about letting our true self out to play, to shine, to be brilliant just as we are.

​Last week I talked about learning to trust myself to be able to do hard things. I’ve realized that trusting myself comes from following through on the things I decide to do because I love myself. And there’s a huge difference between deciding to do something because I love myself and deciding to do something because I’m trying to fix myself or punish myself or make myself earn something.

​The decision has to come from a place of loving awareness, acceptance and appreciation, not judgment, condemnation, or criticism.

​First I had to find the energy of loving myself unconditionally, and then I had to choose the modalities by which I wanted to care for myself. And only then could I make the decision to try new ways to care for myself and stick with them.

​This worked because I was caring for myself, not correcting myself.

​I have learned to go into change with curiosity rather than rigidity. Prior to my first 36 hour fast, I acknowledged to myself that I had never done this before and it might feel hard. And that if it was so hard that I felt I needed to quit that was ok because I was trying it. It was something I was curious about, not something that defined how disciplined I was or how much I cared about myself. It wasn’t about getting it right so I could say that I did it. It was about experimenting with how I felt doing something new. There was no “get it right or you’re a failure” energy behind it. There was only “let’s see how this goes and then reassess because you’re worth it”.

​Do you see the difference? Approaching change with curiosity and grace leaves us room to practice new things, and to mess up, stumble, try again, reevaluate and either keep going or change paths.

​We cannot find lasting change with a ‘do or die’ mindset. It’s just mean. It’s the equivalent of bullying ourselves. When my children were babies and learning to walk, I spent countless hours hunched over with their little hands gripping my index fingers with all their strength, supporting them as they practiced taking steps. They were building muscles they hadn’t used before. They were practicing balance and coordination. They were learning to walk.

​And when they had built their confidence enough to take 1 or 2 or 3 steps unassisted and inevitably fell down, I celebrated those few steps. I encouraged them to get back up and try again. I didn’t criticize them and say “what the hell is wrong with you? Everyone around you is walking, why aren't you?” Because I knew they were learning. I knew they were practicing. And one day I asked myself why I didn't allow that kind of grace for myself. Why wouldn't I allow myself to learn something new with the same patience and understanding I had when my kids were little and learning to walk?

​I didn't have an answer that felt supportive and loving towards myself. I had no good reason other than believing that I was too old for that kind of leeway; that at my age I should have figured this out by now.

​And quite frankly, that’s a stupid reason. I believe the thing that will most help me feel my best over the next half of my life is the ability to continuously learn new things. That requires that I am a beginner sometimes. And being a beginner requires patience and grace and loving support. If I’m not willing to give those things to myself so that I can make changes in my life and grow for the better, then what the fuck is the point?

​I don’t know exactly where I picked up the idea that there was a time limit on how long one can be a beginner and how much patience and kindness one can show to oneself, and honestly it’s not worth the time and energy to look back and figure it out. What’s important to me now is that I allow myself the grace and patience and loving support of approaching things with curiosity not rigidity, just like I did with my babies so many years ago.

​I get to try and mess up and try again, over and over until I make the progress I want or decide to change paths. No one, not even me - especially not me - gets to criticize or judge my attempts as not good enough.

​Making changes has to be done from a place of love for ourselves. It cannot come from disgust or frustration or contempt. Those may be the feelings and emotions that alert us to the changes we want to make, but they can’t be the motivating emotions behind the changes. The motivator has to be unconditional love for ourselves. It has to be a desire to grow and improve upon what we already love, not fix or correct or punish ourselves for what we haven’t achieved yet.

​When we reframe our self criticism into encouragement and enthusiasm for where we desire to go, we give ourselves the opportunity to experience loving support along the way. We give ourselves the opportunity to stumble and fall and get back up without shame or condemnation.

​What do you think it would be like for babies learning to walk if we criticized them every time they fell down? How quickly would they become discouraged? How quickly would they begin to doubt themselves and lose faith in themselves? But we don’t do that, do we? We encourage and love and support them. And how optimistic and curious and unafraid are those babies? How full of wonder and willingness to try new things and explore their world? Wouldn’t it be sweet to have even a drop of that wonder and zest for life that a baby learning to walk has?

Even on the edge of 50, we are only one decision and a whole lot of practice away from that. And, at the edge of 50 we have the incredible advantage of experiencing that wonder and zest for life along with the wisdom we have gained from decades of living.

And after all, what could be better than wisdom and wonder?

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Blessings and beach days forever,

​
Katie