I Thought First Week Was About Fasting. It Wasn’t.
Have you ever wanted something… and known, without debate, that you weren’t going to take it?
That was day one of my fasting.
It was a travel day — flying back from Mexico — and in some ways, that made it easier. I’ve fasted during travel before. Domestic flights. International flights. Long, exhausting days. That part didn’t intimidate me.
That morning, my business partner Jen offered me coffee. She meant black coffee.
She didn’t yet know I wasn’t having coffee at all — just water and broth.
I remember the moment clearly.
Do I want it? Yes.
Will I have it? No.
That distinction stayed with me all week.
Not deprivation - Choice!
At the airport and on the plane, something unexpected happened. My sense of smell sharpened dramatically. Coffee everywhere. When Jen opened a snack bar, I could smell it immediately, clearly. I’ve never been particularly sensitive to smell, but suddenly everything registered.
It was information, not temptation.
By the time we landed, hunger made an appearance but once I got home and had broth, it felt perfect. Not just satisfying. Regulating. The hunger disappeared. The craving disappeared.
Day one felt… easy.
Day Two: Energy Without Hunger
Day two surprised me.
By 7:30 a.m., I’d already done a load of laundry, journaled, and sent the kids to school. I felt focused. Productive. Clear.
Later that day, a headache arrived. Not pleasant but interestingly, it wasn’t paired with hunger. My body felt like it was switching fuel sources, switching modes.
Food wasn’t the loudest signal anymore.
At that point, I still felt in control.
Day Three: The Day People Don’t Explain Well
Day three was different.
I woke up extremely hungry, already with a headache. I didn’t want to journal. I still did but it was mechanical, stripped of curiosity or depth.
The hunger wasn’t just hunger. It was pressure.
I felt lightheaded all day. Standing required attention. The headache never fully left. And the craving wasn’t for a specific food — it was for something.
Something sweet.
Something solid.
Something to chew.
That’s when it became clear:
Day three isn’t really about food.
It’s about nervous system exposure.
When food is removed, one of our fastest regulators disappears. No ritual. No comfort. No dopamine hit. No grounding through chewing or taste.
Whatever your system has been buffering with food suddenly has nowhere to go.
That day, rest didn’t help. But work did.
As long as I was focused — writing, responding, thinking — I was okay. The moment I stopped, the cravings rushed in. Quiet made everything louder. Engagement made it manageable.
That taught me something important about myself.
Throughout the day, I kept asking:
Is this worth it?
Do I actually want to keep going?
Cooking for my family didn’t help. Broth ingredients. Leftovers. Everything smelled incredible.
I didn’t want to quit dramatically.
I wanted to quit quietly.
What helped was simple: salt and lemon. I sucked on salt. I sucked on lemon. I allowed it. This wasn’t cheating, it was listening. I drink lemon water every morning anyway. I salted my broth. This was regulation, not rebellion.
Day three was the hardest day — mentally and physically.
That night, my only plan was to sleep. End the day. Stop fighting.
Days Four and Five: Functioning Without Margin
By day four, I could function again but something was off.
I met Jen at a coffee shop. The smell of coffee didn’t bother me. Watching people eat didn’t trigger anything. I told her about day three — how intense it had been.
I also spent time talking things through — including with ChatGPT — and the message was consistent:
You need to stop! Now!
Not because of weakness.
Because of data.
Fatigue.
Dizziness.
Nausea.
Lightheadedness when standing.
Rapid weight loss.
No excess body fat.
No supplements.
No vitamins.
A full daily schedule.
My life hadn’t slowed down. I wasn’t lying around praying all day. I was working. Parenting. Cooking. Running errands. Leading.
And my physical capacity had dropped.
By day five, my weight had gone from 118 to 113.5, being 5'7. My heart rate felt off.
I didn’t feel safe in my body.
That mattered.
The Adjustment Wasn’t Weakness — It Was Leadership
I realized something critical:
Even if I could push through 21 days on water and broth, the transition back to real life would be harsh. Going from nothing to everything isn’t wise — even with a clean diet.
That’s when 7-7-7 emerged.
Seven days of water and broth.
Seven days of vegetables, some fruit, nuts, oils — my version of a Daniel-style fast, adapted to paleo principles.
Seven days of reintroducing protein, aligned with travel and corporate training that is happening on week 3.
The moment I decided that, my body softened.
Peace.
Ease.
Calm.
And yes — that’s when the thought appeared:
If I feel this good now, maybe I can keep going.
That’s when wisdom had to step in.
Behavioral flexibility matters. Leadership requires reassessment. Stubbornly pushing forward when conditions change isn’t strength — it’s recklessness.
I don’t care if someone calls that weak.
Listening to my body (I was 109 pounds by Monday), adjusting publicly, and choosing sustainability over ego — that’s strength.
What the First Week Actually Gave Me
First week of fasting wasn’t about endurance.
It was about learning where discipline ends and discernment begins.
Day three showed me my edge.
Days four and five showed me what functioning without margin feels like.
And the decision to adjust showed me that peace in the body is non-negotiable.
This wasn’t a failure. It was a conversation.
And the clarity didn’t come from pushing harder — it came from listening better.
