It’s early morning on Easter Sunday.
I slept well again. I haven’t had any insomnia at all over the past week – sleep has been good quality, and plentiful.
I’m also not feeling hungry. I could eat, but I’m not any hungrier than I might be at this time normally.
In fact, that’s what I’ve found – and continue to find – the strangest thing about fasting.
You would think by now, four days in, the hunger would be intolerable. But it’s not. It’s very manageable.
I do find myself thinking about the fact that I’m fasting and missing meals, but it’s more about the upset to my routine than about any sort of suffering.
I don’t feel like I’m suffering.
Probably the hardest thing is managing to fast with my family present. My daughter wouldn’t understand, and I’m not sure my son or stepdaughter do either. The last thing I want to do is worry them.
But when you don’t eat, you really don’t fit in.
Families come together at meal times, and when one family member isn’t present, it’s noticeable.