In which Our Hero chills the fuck out.
Three days ago I wanted to fast.
I’ve done long fasts before. When I need to clear my head.
Partner says I’m less sharp when I fast.
At one point I mused that I may be 80% as effective, but focus for 200% as long.
My emotions are duller. Chiller. Easier.
It’s like the old food bank advertisement: “Nothing else matters when you’re hungry.”
I like being hungry.
It fills me with emptiness.
The sort of emptiness that allows for replenishment.
At least one close relative is made uncomfortable by my fasting.
They think – and commented – and rightfully so – that it sounds like something I can control when I feel out of control.
Okay.
Sure.
I guess that’s somewhat disordered?
I’m not sure whether the damage of this sort of behavior is the magnitude or frequency.
Alcohol or cannabis or opiates have a similar sitch.
Why are you doing it? What are the effects? How stable are you and why and wherefore? How much does it hurt you or those around you?
On Tuesday I wanted to fast. I missed the equipment. (I like to take ketones on the first day of a fast.) I wasn’t stressed, per se, but I could feel myself getting there.
When making a big decision or undergoing a life change.
I acquired the items through the online internet.
On Thursday, they arrived.
Today, I fast.
I wish I had fasted earlier. Had acquired the items in person (New York has everything!) or performed a less-perfect version of accessing ketosis sans ketones.
Last night, I stayed awake until 4, very much not wanting to.
I couldn’t sleep. My mind spun and crashed out.
Today, I might have arrived at a bathroom solution.
And my most-likely contractor sent an acceptable quote.
What are other options? I don’t like drinking or drugs.
I used to run long distance, a similar effect.
Sometimes I fast. I like it. It works.
It’s nice to have a clearer mind during times of intensity.
And today I ran 5 miles, the farthest since breaking my foot.
Tomorrow, I may eat.
How glorious that will be.
Julian Wise 