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A detox is not a diet.

A detox is not a diet.

I’ve been repeating this mantra over and over as I come off my my liquids-only day.

My inner-teenager, who danced with bulimia and an enforced diet, can never be skinny enough. She looks at pictures of my raw- boned ancestors and cringes wondering why she didn’t inherit our mother’s bird bones and Audrey Hepburn visage.

A detox is not a diet, I repeat to myself on the day I had two solid meals and bone broth for only one.

A detox is not a diet, I say again on the day the first day of back to three meals.

There is a part of me that fights for a few more days of liquids only even though I know, with my personal constitution and daily busy-ness, that a prolonged period with only bone broth is not, in fact, good for me.

This is how I come off every detox– reminding the wounded parts of my psyche that food is not the enemy.

I’ve been reading Blood, Bones & Butter by Gabrielle Hamilton, chef and owner of the New York restaurant Prune:

I had no fewer than sixteen girls with “allergies” to dairy and wheat- cheese and bread basically- but also to to garlic, eggplant, corn, and nuts. They had cleverly developed allergies, I believe, to the foods they had seen their own mothers fearing and loathing as diet fads passed through their homes.

I breathe this in.

Are my food intolerances— which lead to hives and migraines and horrible exhaustion– the energetic boomerang of my own mother’s yo-yo dieting?

Or is it bigger than that, has food and eating become so contorted that those of us who are “overly sensitive,” who taste the energy fields around us for breakfast and sip the resonance of our cultural zeitgeist at teatime, are we embodying the attitudes and confusion of an entire generation?

Is it as simple as stepping out of that energy or are we canaries in the coalmine, warning of rising smoke?

Is it a metaphor for a society that gives us too much to take in, to ingest, until we simply can’t digest it all?

Or perhaps, simply, are we simply adults who were kids with negative body images and low physical self-esteem?

I head over to the Witch Camp forum and join the struggles and triumphs there. I marvel at how many ways we can beat ourselves up with food. At how this detox is as much emotional as it is physical. And I make myself a vow:

One day, I will do a detox, and afterwards I will joyously add the meals back in, savoring the sensuality of food in my mouth.

And on that day, I will know that I have truly detoxed… and truly healed.


What Witch Camp shows me, over and over, is that we support each other through our shared stories. Please add yours in the comments below.



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