I’ve been called to fast.
But not in the holy, glowing way they write about in books.
Not in the confident, social-media-worthy kind of way.
This one terrifies me.
I’m scared of the silence.
Scared of the noise that comes with it.
Scared of the hunger — not just in my belly,
but in my soul.
Fasting strips away the masks.
The distractions.
The numbing rituals I’ve grown used to.
The constant scrolling. The sugar highs.
The mindless eating when I don’t want to feel.
The avoidance disguised as routine.
I’m preparing for an extended juice fast.
Not just to lose weight — but to shed the heaviness of my choices.
To let go of everything I’ve been consuming
instead of facing.
But if I’m honest… I’m scared of failing.
Scared I’ll give in too early.
Scared the mirror won’t change.
Scared I’ll still feel empty.
Yet somehow, this fear feels sacred.
Because it means I’m no longer in denial.
Because it means I care.
Because it means I’m ready to try — even trembling.
This fast is not just about food.
It’s about finding peace in the quiet.
About meeting my real self in the stillness.
About choosing discipline over comfort.
Presence over pleasure.
Healing over hiding.
I don’t want to run anymore.
Not from hunger.
Not from grief.
Not from myself.
So this is my confession:
I’m terrified to begin.
But I will.
Because everything I desire lives
on the other side of this discomfort.
If you’ve ever been afraid to start —
to detox, to disconnect, to face your truth —
you’re not weak.
You’re brave for even admitting it.
Let’s rise.
One honest choice at a time.
