30-Day Challenges: Mindful Eating, Part 1

Mindful eating is the one "30-day challenge" that I have never been able to successfully complete. 

I’ve tried a "30-Day Mindful Eating Challenge" on three separate occasions, and while I can last 7-8 days at a time, I cannot pull myself away from the urge to binge every once in a while. For me, a 30-day streak of mindful eating everyday feels more like a jail cell than a liberation. I feel too chained and restricted to stand it. I always end up breaking the streak at least a few times during the month. 

How do I define “mindful eating” for the purpose of a 30-day challenge? I define mindful eating in this context as only eating while sitting down (eating while driving does not count though!), and putting my fork down on the table between each bite (if eating a taco or hamburger or other such finger food, it means putting down what I’m eating between bites). 

If you’ve never tried it, try just putting your fork down after taking a bite of food, and then waiting to pick up the fork again only once you have swallowed all of the food in your mouth. 

It is SO difficult! 

The sitting-and-put-your-fork-down-between-bites trick really forces you to slow down and requires you to pay attention to the food in your mouth.

I love it and I hate it all at the same time.  

I love mindful eating for the obvious reasons: It helps me enjoy my food more. It helps me savor my meal time too, as I connect with my body and really feel the pleasures of food and eating. 

Mindful eating is not just about food and eating, though. Food itself is pleasurable most of the time. But when it comes to meals I really love, they are all about mindset and environment. For example, when I lived in Boulder and worked from home during COVID, I ate lunch while sitting in the grass in my front yard. Feeling the grass on my hand, the breeze on my skin, and the sun on my face, lunchtime was a moment in time for nobody else except for myself. My favorite meal was quinoa bowls. The quinoa was salty and flavored with vegetarian broth, and its nutty texture rolled around like tiny marbles in my mouth. On top of the quinoa were various toppings. The soft, chewy texture of the fried tofu, the smooth skin of the zucchini, the crunch of cashews, the tart pop of the pickles, the soft and earthy scent of the micro-greens I picked two seconds ago from my own garden, the zing of the kimchi; it all mixed it my mouth to a harmonious melody.

The thing that made the quinoa bowls the most memorable though? It was the chili paste that I poured on and mixed in, which burned in my mouth and made my eyes water. It made me sit right on the edge of being able to stand it, an uncomfortable but thrilling feeling of “it hurts so good.” Knowing that I was flirting with the edge of discomfort and sitting with it? That brought me right to the present, right inside my body, as my tongue and mouth said “you can’t ignore me now!” 

If I washed it down with smoothie or milk, I felt immediate relief and I would eagerly take the next bite and enjoy the spicy-sweet combination. 

But, if I resisted the urge and really sat with and embraced the spice for several minutes, endorphins were released and a wave of calm and satisfaction washed over me like getting a small tattoo. Eating spicy food like this makes you feel like all is right in the world, and that, at least in the moment, there is nothing you have left wanting. 

Being present and mindful to the food and attune to my surroundings and bodily sensations sounds like a very nice, pleasurable experience, doesn’t it? So why do I hate it so much? Why do I resist mindful eating so much? Why is it the only 30-day challenge that I’ve never been able to complete?