Garlic, Ginger, and a Little Autophagy

The Broth

We watched as the garlic, ginger and chilli paste browned off in the hot oil. We added the chicken stock, the best quality bone broth we could find (no corners being cut today), followed by soy sauce, fish sauce and honey.

Let it simmer.

Then taste… salty, sweet, spicy… delicious. Heavenly.

Finally, we added the freshly sliced veg and the noodles. As hearty, healthy broths go, this was a winner. Simple, but layered with flavour and goodness.

Helen and I sat at the table and breathed in the aromas. We grinned at each other in anticipation. We’d been fantasising about this meal, the one that would mark the end of our planned 48-hour fast.

In the end, we didn’t quite make the full stretch. But this dinner still felt like the milestone. The one we were moving towards.

We ate slowly, intentionally.

I ended up with most of the broth in my beard, but it was so good. A meal I’ll probably never forget.

The Experiment

Helen had done a few fasts before, but it was new territory for me. I decided to give it a go after hearing about her experiences and reading a bit about the health benefits; ketosis, autophagy, that sort of thing.

We’d been living a healthier, sober life through January after an indulgent December, so finishing it off with something like this felt like a good marker. Not just a health thing, but something symbolic. A reset for the months ahead.

I expected to struggle. I thought I’d be pacing around, climbing the walls, desperate for food. But actually, it was fine. I didn’t crave food so much as I missed the comfort that comes with eating.

There were moments when I felt low on energy. I was more sensitive to the cold. And I had to sit with unfamiliar feelings and emotions. But I’d gone into it knowing that might happen. I wanted to see if I could just sit with it, without needing to fix it or avoid it.

The first 24 hours passed without much trouble. By the second day, things shifted. Headaches crept in. My senses felt strung out. I told myself it would pass, but it didn’t.

So I broke the fast early.

Nothing dramatic. Just a small breakfast first thing in the morning to take the edge off and steady myself for the day. I felt a flicker of disappointment, but I couldn’t ignore what my body was telling me.

Dinner that evening still felt like the milestone. Still earned. Still special.

Listening

Looking back, I’m glad I tried it. It reminded me that I can handle more than I give myself credit for.

It’s not the first time I’ve surprised myself. Giving up drinking during a tough chapter of my life wasn’t easy either. But I managed it. Because I knew it was the right thing to do. This had a similar feel, just on a smaller scale.

I’ve been told I’m hard on myself, and maybe that’s true. But I think it’s important to hold yourself to something. Not to compete with anyone else, just to be honest with yourself about the kind of person you’re trying to be. The habits you’re choosing. The stories you’re living by.

The challenge is knowing when to push yourself and when to ease off. I think that starts with learning how to listen to your own signals. If you’re not paying attention, you’ll either go too far or not far enough.

Autonomy

I’ll probably fast again. Maybe once a quarter, but only for 24 hours. That seems to be the right amount for me. Enough to feel the benefit, without tipping into something unsustainable.

For now, though, I get to look forward to date night this Friday. Good company, dinner, wine, and the quiet satisfaction that I have some autonomy over my urges. No matter how primitive or ingrained they might be.

That’s enough for now.