My Facebook feed today is full of people fasting. People are choosing to skip meals for a day or two, saying it helps them clear their minds or find focus amid everything happening right now. I see those square graphics in my notifications—friends from different backgrounds posting about how they’re joining a communal fast—and when I admit I’m feeling a little down or overwhelmed, the immediate response from some is to suggest I join them.
I want to be honest: I do not do well when I’m hungry. Call it “hangry” or call it human, but hunger affects my mood and my ability to cope. At one point in my life I lost a lot of weight, and while that change brought some things, it also coincided with major personal upheaval. Hunger makes me irritable and less patient, not calmer or wiser.
Maybe you are one of those people who can manage emotions while fasting, or perhaps you have an extraordinary reserve of willpower right now. That’s not me. I respect that people find meaning or clarity in fasting, and if it helps them, that’s valid. But asking everyone else to join the same practice assumes that we all have the same needs and the same capacity to take on additional restrictions.
This period of being confined at home—unable to leave freely, missing daily routines and small outings—is hard for me. I work from home full time, but I make a point of getting dressed and going out for a brief walk or a simple errand every day. Those small departures from the house are part of how I manage my mental health. Losing that rhythm has been disorienting.
Adding another layer of restriction—like deliberately skipping meals—would push me past my limit. It wouldn’t be a mindful reset; it would be a breaking point. When my baseline stress is already high because we’ve lost so many freedoms and are stuck inside, intentionally depriving myself of food does not feel like self-care. It would not make me clearer-headed or more hopeful.
Instead, fasting would likely make me more anxious, more irritable, and less present for the people I live with. It would create friction in the home when we already have fewer outlets and less space to decompress. For me, meals can be small anchors in an uncertain day—moments of comfort, routine, and nourishment that help steady my mood.
I’m not against other people’s coping strategies. If fasting gives you a sense of purpose, spiritual clarity, or solidarity, that’s a legitimate choice. But please understand that those choices aren’t universally helpful. When someone tells me a fast is the solution for everyone, it can come across as dismissive of different needs and realities. We each have unique mental and physical responses to stress, and what helps one person might harm another.
Right now, I need small comforts and predictable pleasures. I need food that makes me feel taken care of, short breaks that mimic the normalcy of leaving the house, and routines that give my days structure. That’s what keeps me functioning. Opting into a fast would strip away a coping mechanism I rely on and likely make everything feel worse, not better.
So please don’t take my reluctance personally if I decline invitations to fast. It isn’t about judgment; it’s about staying emotionally sustainable. If depriving myself of food tipped me into a bad place before, it’s reasonable to avoid repeating that pattern. Everyone’s boundaries deserve respect during a stressful time.
Coping strategies vary: some people meditate, some start new projects, some practice restraint as a form of control. I get it. I support people finding healthy ways to manage anxiety and grief. But for me, the healthiest choice is not to add hunger to a day that already feels heavy.
If you want to reach out, I appreciate the concern. Tell me how you’re doing, share what helps you, but don’t pressure me into a practice that would make me worse. I’ll be managing my stress in my own way: staying cozy, maintaining small daily rituals, and yes, keeping snacks on hand.
For the foreseeable future, my plan is simple: comfort, routine, and a lot of Gilmore Girls. It works for me. If you’re fasting and it helps you, I’m glad you’ve found something that supports you. But please respect that others will cope differently—and that’s okay.