Our modern bodies have long forgotten they are built to survive without constant calories. We’re bombarded by snacks, soft drinks, and delicacies—every lobby has a bowl of sweets, every fridge within arm’s reach.
I often catch myself reach for them, even when not hungry. But if hunger isn’t the driver, why do I eat? In our society, snacking has become an addiction, delivering the same dopamine rush as social media or worse. Procrastinating on a task? Grab some nuts. Feeling bored? Chocolate brings relief. Facing an unpleasant conversation with your boss? Cookies offer escape.
As an endurance athlete, I never saw this as a problem—I’d joke that I cycled so much just to be able to eat more. But entering midlife, as I delved deeper into my inner self, I questioned its origins and what this behavior revealed about myself.
Six years ago, I began experimenting with extended fasting. I wanted to understand if my body was capable to go multiple days without food. It was supposed to be possible. Our ancestors survived without constant food availability—so why couldn’t I? I wasn’t interested in weight loss. The positive impact on my health as well as the physical, mental and spiritual challenge made me curious. I craved the mental clarity and confrontation with limits. Since that time, I have fasted 11-13 days annually, each time forging a deeper bond with body and spirit. My latest, just three weeks ago, reaffirmed this. In this post, I’ll share fasting’s role in your spiritual journey, shadow work, and midlife reinvention. Let’s explore the transformative side of voluntary discomfort.
Why I fasted for 12 days
Since my early 20s I’ve been curious about health and different diets. I’ve already tried all kinds of different diets from vegetarian and vegan to paleo and keto. But extended fasting? It never crossed my mind until I became fascinated with boundary experiences and growth through deliberate discomfort. I didn’t know exactly why, but I sensed a multi-day fast would be profoundly memorable and valuable.
There are different types of fasting mainly separated by the length without food. The shortest one is intermittent fasting, where you just try to extend the daily fasting window (e.g. 18 hours without food while eating only in the remaining 6 hours.) A 24-hour fast is also something that can be integrated easily in one’s schedule while offering already good health benefits.
For me that wasn’t interesting. I wanted to test my limits. In extended fasting we can distinguish three phases:
- Day 1-3: Detoxification and emptying the body’s glucose stores. In these first days we start to shut down our carbohydrate metabolism and remove toxins from the body and its cells. This phase is typically marked by low energy, changing moods, and hunger attacks.
- Day 4-7: Beginning of Ketosis. Digestion shuts down. In this phase, mental clarity and euphoria start to dominate. Dreams become clearer, sometimes taking visionary aspects. We become more aware of our bodies and our surroundings. Jung would say that the Self uses the empty shell to speak up.
- Day 8-12: Deep calmness and an almost meditative state. Full energy, no hunger, but immense clarity. The body recycles damaged and self-destructive cells and renews itself. It’s like being high without drugs.
Fasting for spiritual growth
Already for my first fast, it was clear to me, I’m going for the 12 days. I wanted this spiritual experience, the confrontation with my unconscious. Jung emphasized confronting the unconscious as the key to individuation, the lifelong process of becoming whole.
“Solitude and fasting have from time immemorial been the best-known means of strengthening any meditation whose purpose is to open the door to the unconscious.”
C.G. Jung, Symbols of Transformation
So for me, fasting became the tool to strip away the noise. By removing food—the ultimate comfort and distraction—I aimed to force hidden aspects of myself into the light. In the emptiness of hunger, I hoped to meet my shadow—not as an enemy, but as a guide toward greater self-knowledge and autonomy.
Nietzsche would complete this view by seeing fasting as a form of what he called “voluntary suffering” which he identified as a catalyst for transformation. He saw such challenges as a path to self-overcoming. In a world of instant gratification, voluntary discomfort rebuilds sovereignty.
Fasting, for me, embodied this: a self-imposed trial to master desires, not be enslaved by them. It’s not victimhood—it’s agency. My motto is seeking strength that comes from facing limits head-on.
Preparation is key for such an endeavor, however since I already have years of experience, this time it was a rather spontaneous decision. For me it was important to have quiet, especially during the first 3 days and that I was in the mood to do it. Once I make a decision, there is usually not much that can stop me.
The Physical Journey through Extended Fasting
During a 12-day fast one goes through ups and downs—physically and mentally. It’s a deliberate expedition into the body’s ancient survival mechanisms. As an adventurer and endurance athlete I climbed and skied mountains, biked thousands of kilometers solo, and pushed through pain many times. I know what it means to listen to the body and to tell the mind to shut up.
However, fasting was a new experience to me. Over the years, I learned to love the process and the act of self-overcoming and personal growth during such an endeavour. In this chapter I want to share a condensed day-by-day overview of my most recent 12-day water fast (December 2025), highlighting the key physical milestones, roadblocks, unexpected phenomena, and the profound way body and mind merge into one.
The decision
All starts with a simple decision. The decision not to eat anymore for the next 12 days. There is the last meal. For me it was a late lunch. It shouldn’t fill you up completely. I had some eggs, avocados, cheese and an apple. Quite tasty. Then you just skip dinner and go to bed early. There is a sensation of hunger, but actually it’s not bad at all.
Days 1–3: The Descent into Depletion
The first three days are critical. Your body goes through a drastic change. Glycogen stores empty rapidly, carbohydrate metabolism shuts down, and the body begins flushing toxins from cells. On the second day, you feel low energy. And the hunger rises. Especially if you live with a family and you have to prepare them some delicious meals. Your mind screams “eat something!” but you just ignore it.
The end of this phase is usually the hardest. Your Glycogen is gone, which causes a combination of fatigue, headache, and irritability. Unexpectedly, though, I started to sleep better from the first night. It was more relaxing and my dreams became more “real” and clear.
Switching to Ketosis
This is one of the key milestones of the fasting procedure. Once the Glycogen is completely gone, the body needs a different source of energy. Your metabolism switches to fat-burning mode, using the almost infinite fat resources stored in your body. It also means, that your digestion stops completely and your gut will thank you for the rest it gets. This is also the moment, your energy returns.
Day 4-7: The Turn Toward Clarity
With a constant, readily available energy source from fat, the mental fog of the first days lifts, making space for a clean, almost electric clarity. The dreams intensify further, becoming vivid and sometimes visionary. This phase feels like stepping into the sunlight after the storm. I was very creative in my work and did daily endurance or bodyweight workouts. Since my taste buds were on holiday, I developed a heightened awareness for the other senses. Colors seemed brighter, sounds crisper, smells more distinct.
Usually, the body has to reserve large amounts of energy for one of its biggest systems. The digestion. Suddenly this energy is available for other things, sharpening focus on the environment and the inner world.
When reaching Ketosis, the hardest part is actually behind us. The physical discomfort dissolves, hunger and appetite are hardly noticeable and if so, it is easy to push them away. The body has now adapted and is in a flow state.
Days 8–12: Deep Calmness and Renewal
The last transformation is the most transcendent. Hunger vanishes completely, energy stabilizes at a high level, and an almost meditative stillness settles in. The body enters peak autophagy—selectively recycling damaged cells, renewing itself from within. It’s like the system is cleaning house while running at full power.
I felt lighter, clearer, and strangely powerful. No weakness, no dizziness—just profound calm. Sometimes I woke up after 4-5 hours of sleep, fully energized (usually I need 7 hours). I began each morning with meditation and a long walk with the dogs. Connection with nature and solitude are powerful partners during fasting. At work my mind was very sharp. Clear thoughts flowed with unusual precision.
The hardest part in this phase is actually keeping the motivation up. Resisting the temptation to break the fast, because I achieved already all the benefits. But it is worth to accept the challenge and staying present with the depth.
Disclaimer: Extended fasting is not suitable for everyone and can carry risks. Always consult a qualified healthcare professional before attempting a multi-day fast, especially if you have any medical conditions or are taking medication.
The Shadow Emerges
Fasting eliminates distractions, creating space for a deeper inner connection. Without eating or digesting, you focus on what the body and psyche reveal—silence where the unconscious can speak. You will notice, that most of the answers you were seeking, are not somewhere in outer experiences. They have always been there, within yourself, in the form of your shadow.
Jung taught that the shadow consists of those parts of ourselves we repress or deny—qualities we deem unacceptable, inferior, or incompatible with our conscious identity. The shadow is nothing bad, we all carry one. But the less we embody it into our conscious life, the darker and denser it becomes, until it finally rules our lifes.
During extended fasting, the shadow doesn’t just appear; it demands recognition. The body, stripped of its usual comforts, becomes a mirror for the psyche. What follows are the three most significant shadow discoveries that I made during my last fast. Don’t think of them as intellectual realizations. The unconscious doesn’t think or behave rationally. They were raw, symbolic confrontations that emerged in the emptiness, forcing me to face patterns I had long avoided.
Shadow Discovery 1: Your Dreams Are Reality
You know this feeling when you wake up sometimes, and wonder about the nonsense you’ve dreamed. It’s actually not nonsense, but you never learned to understand the language of your Shadow. This is a language full of symbols, ancient archetypes and metaphors.
Already in the first days of the fast, my dreams became more vivid and clear. Already before that, I had been writing a dream journal, but suddenly I could remember much more detail and a clearer storyline within the dream itself. This is very helpful for dream interpretation. For example I had some eye-opening dreams about my viewpoint on my former corporate life or relationship problems with my parents and siblings.
I’m not talking just about more intense dreaming—it was rather the realization that dreams are not mere fantasy. They are reality. Just because they happen in our unconscious world, and from a rational point of view they might not make sense doesn’t make them less valid. In our modern societies, we have been trained to prioritize the rational, productive self while marking subconscious activities as irrelevant.
How the Self creates balance
Jung described that as the psyche’s compensatory movement. When we over-identify with the Ego, with the mask we are wearing (persona), the unconscious amplifies its symbolic language in dreams to restore balance. During fasting, solitude and deprivation weaken ego defenses further, allowing archetypal content to flood in.
The fasting process allowed me a deeper connection with the inner symbolic world and to make it more accessible. The dreams during the fast weren’t random; they revisited unresolved midlife questions (purpose beyond achievement, legacy, authenticity) with an urgency that waking life had muted.
Not only did I gain a better understanding of the dreams within a single night. During the fast (and even the time after) they developed into an evolving sequence, handling different parts of my life and my problems. My personal dream soap opera so to speak, that guides me on my way to individuation.
Integration began immediately: I wrote in my dedicated dream journal each morning, recording without judgment, then dialoguing with the figures and symbols as living presences. This practice continued post-fast and became a cornerstone of my sovereignty work—treating the unconscious not as chaos to control, but as a wise, autonomous partner in individuation.
Shadow Discovery 2: I use food as an emotional anaesthetic
When ketosis started and my physical clarity peaked, at times a well-known craving emerged. The urge to interrupt my work, walk to the kitchen, and check what is revealed by the refrigerator. I realized I had long used eating as an emotional anaesthetic, numbing discomfort with quick comforts. In normal life, that happened frequently. Stress, Discomfort and Boredom triggered the need for a snack.
During the fast, that was suddenly not an option anymore. The crutch made way for the real emotions: frustration, vulnerability, even quiet grief over unexamined choices. That was inconvenient at the beginning, but having a larger goal helped me to navigate through these phases and usually the feeling of unease disappeared quickly. Usually such needs are a spontaneous impulse and by just holding them back and reflecting, they could be forced to silence again. Most of the times we just don’t have the patience to give it that time.
Jung would analyze it as a compensatory defense: the persona (the disciplined professional) rejects “weak” emotions, so the shadow buries them under compulsive habits. He notes how such mechanisms protect the ego but block individuation—true wholeness requires facing what we disown.
The clarity during the fast helped me to work through it: sitting with the emotion, journaling its roots without judgment, breathing into the discomfort until it softened. The key is to name your shadow and to accept it—and linking it to positive life patterns, like choosing voluntary challenges (bikepacking, runs and hikes) to build resilience. Now, post-fast, this pausing has already become a routine. When you reflect before you act, you’ve already found the key to authentic autonomy.
I pause before eating, asking: “What am I really feeding?” This fosters authentic autonomy, turning numbing into conscious choice.
Shadow Discovery 3: Spontaneous Emotions Are a Projection of the Shadow
It started as a trivial situation. I had a lively discussion with a group of friends. Then, one of the guys said something that I couldn’t agree with. I didn’t go into an argument with him, but I felt a sudden, unprovoked anger rising in me over so much incompetence. My mind started with judgements increasing the spiral of outrage.
I took myself out of the conversation to calm down. When I sat with it, I understood the truth: these spontaneous anger bursts (it wasn’t the first time something like that happened to me) are actually not a reaction to other people. They were projections of my shadow. The latent dissatisfaction with my own disowned frustrations and imperfections.
This shadow emerged late in the process, around day 10, which was actually the most calm phase. That’s why the overwhelming feeling surprised me even more. The fast’s emptiness had amplified it, stripping away the usual buffer. Thus, it also provided also an opportunity to dig deeper into this behaviour.
I recognized a repressed vulnerability. I was conditioned to value harmony over conflict, so I learned to avoid difficult discussions to maintain peace. That often drove me crazy, especially if it was against my own values. Over the years, the repressed rebel became part of my archetype. When the other guy stated his controversial opinion so bluntly, it drove me mad.
Projecting our Shadow
Jung analyzed such projections in “The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious“: when we deny aspects of ourselves (like our own “incompetence” or weakness), we project them outward as anger toward others, maintaining the ego’s illusion of superiority. This pattern is classic shadow work—unintegrated parts demand attention through emotional eruptions, especially under stress or deprivation, which weakens defenses.
Understanding this projective behavior helped me to work on it. Not by trying to win every discussion now and making sure, that I am “right.” But by taking active ownership for my emotions, and trying to make the best out of each situation. Understanding, when something is important enough to fight for it and when harmony is more important than an argument.
Interested in having similar experiences? You don’t need to fast for 12 days to begin your own journey of self-discovery. Start small—try a 24-48 hour fast, or even intermittent fasting for a week, combined with daily dream journaling. Embrace the voluntary discomfort as your edge: that space where the familiar falls away, and your true self emerges. In an age of constant disruption, eliminating the noise isn’t about survival—it’s about sovereignty.
A Jungian Analysis
Jung mentioned fasting as a powerful ritual on the path to individuation—a way to quiet the mind and let the deeper parts of yourself come forward. The psyche is a complex system trying to balance itself, especially when our “ego” ignores the hidden stuff. In fasting, when there are no distractions from eating or the digestive process, energy becomes free and can shift inward.
For me this shift meant, that my body became a mirror for the mind. It created space for hidden emotions to show up. It also strengthened my daily meditation rituals. In the early morning I do usually a guided meditation, where you focus on all 8 energy centers (chakras) one after another, aligning with Jung’s psychosomatic view. The fasting helped me to get a clearer focus on each center and to notice a better flow of energy.
The body and mind are connected in ways we often forget. Jung called it psychosomatic—physical changes affect mental ones, and vice versa. In fasting, as your body burns through stored energy and switches to fat (ketosis), it’s like a reset that echoes psychological shifts. Jungian thinkers like Marion Woodman talk about how bodily limits crack the “perfect” mask we wear, letting shadows or inner voices emerge.
These extremes tap into deeper layers because they create a kind of “chosen chaos.” It’s like alchemy: breaking down old habits to rebuild something stronger. Across cultures, fasting has been used for visions or renewal—think vision quests or retreats.
The importance of dreams
My fast brought dreams that felt like messages, addressing midlife stuff like what really matters beyond work and economic success. Dreams aren’t random; Jung saw them as the unconscious balancing our one-sided life. The fast amplified this.
But knowing isn’t enough—you have to integrate. Jung warned that ignored shadows can emerge, like projecting anger or numbing with habits. In my case, I worked with it on the spot: journaling emotions, owning projections. That doesn’t mean I solved all my problems during this period. But it definitely helped me to make steps into the right direction. And since we heard already, that individuation is a lifelong process, of course I will continue with shadow work, dream interpretation and other habits, that help me to grow more whole.
Especially in midlife, fasting cuts through the noise of modern life—endless distractions, quick fixes. It offers you the chance of reclaiming control from the inside, using the body-mind connection to create real freedom. My fast showed patterns like avoidance and rebellion, but facing them built true strength. It’s not science—it’s applied wisdom for a fuller life.
What Nietzsche would say
Nietzsche didn’t talk much about fasting directly, but his ideas fit perfectly with the experience—seeing it as a form of voluntary suffering that builds strength. He believed life is full of hardship, but the key is choosing it, not letting it happen to you. “To live is to suffer,” he said, but “to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering.”
In my 12-day fast, I wasn’t a victim of hunger and I wouldn’t call it suffering; I chose the deprivation as a challenge to grow. That’s Nietzsche’s self-overcoming in action—pushing your limits to become more than you are.
Voluntary suffering is different from just enduring bad luck. Nietzsche warned against victimhood, where you resent the world for your pain. Instead, embrace chosen trials to master yourself. During the fast, when it got hard, I didn’t blame the process—I took responsibility and ownership.
Becoming master of your desires, not their slave, is central to Nietzsche. We live in a world of instant gratification—snacks, scrolling, quick fixes—that makes us weak. Fasting flips that: you say no to the urge, reclaiming control. In my fast, skipping the kitchen craving taught me to pause and ask, “Who’s in charge here?” It’s like his idea of the “will to power”—directing your drives toward self-creation, not numb escape.
Nietzsche would see fasting as a rebellion against easy living, a way to create yourself and become who you are. In an age of algorithmic distractions, it’s urgent—reclaim your will before it’s eroded. My experience proves it: voluntary challenges like this aren’t extremes; they’re paths to existential sovereignty.
How Fasting can Support Your Midlife Transformation
I truly hope my journey and my experiences are an inspiration for you. If 12 days seems too much, don’t worry. You don’t have to jump straight into a 12-day fast like I did—that’s my edge, not yours. Start where you are. But you do need to face discomfort on purpose.
Midlife often feels like coasting: stable job, routines, comfort zones. But transformation doesn’t happen there. Comfort is the enemy of growth—it keeps you from questioning what’s really going on inside. It whispers “later” when you need “now.” In my fast, stripping away food showed me how I avoided deeper stuff with snacks or busyness. In a world of endless distractions, deliberate discomfort wakes you up, rebuilding sovereignty over your life.
I encourage you to design your own “edge” or boundary experiences—challenges that push your limits without breaking you. Keep them voluntary, like Nietzsche’s self-overcoming. Here’s how:
- Physical: Try cold exposure (ice baths or cold showers for 5 minutes), an exercise challenge (like a 30-day hike streak), or shorter fasting (16-24 hours, water only). These build resilience, showing your body can handle more than you think.
- Psychological: Go on a silence retreat (even a day alone without devices), solo time (a weekend unplugged), or difficult conversations (honest talks with loved ones about buried feelings). This faces the void where shadows hide.
- Career: Do honest self-assessment (journal your fears about your job), confront risks (apply for that dream role), or take small leaps (say no to overwork). It’s about reclaiming direction beyond security.
Combining challenges with Shadow Work
If you want to dive deeper into shadow work, start with these 4 practices:
- Dream journaling: Write dreams daily, ask what symbols mean for your life.
- Emotion pausing: When craving comfort, sit with the feeling for 5 minutes—journal why it arose.
- Projection spotting: Next anger burst, ask “What in me is this reflecting?” Own it.
- Rebel release: Voice a “controversial” opinion in a safe space to integrate your repressed side.
Safety first: Consult a doctor before fasting, especially with health issues. Start slow, stay hydrated, listen to your body—stop if dizzy or weak. Support helps: Share with a community, therapist, mentor, or journal buddy.
And always remember, Knowledge without implementation is worthless. Integration is key: Journal insights, talk them out to partners or your mentor, or join groups for accountability. My fast wasn’t a one-off; it’s part of ongoing growth. Find what feels real for you—it’s where real change begins.
If you want to learn more about Shadow Work for Career Clarity, check out this blog.
Summary: Find Your Discomfort, Find Your Growth
There you go, three weeks ago, I finished my latest 12-day water fast—not for health or weight loss, but as a deliberate psychological experiment. And it will not be my last one. I will continue to do it at least once a year. I was actually wondering whether I should do a 7-9 day fast every six months. There is no right answer, what is better. I will have to figure it out for myself.
As an adventurer and endurance athlete with a strong philosophical touch, I know that pushing my limits fuels my growth and uncovers hidden truths. It is not so important what we are doing. But we have to do something.
The physical journey was tough. But like in every transformational event, it is important to understand, that the feelings coming with something, whether it is pain, fatigue or frustration are not good or bad. They are just what they are and they are temporary. We can’t always feel great, and descending into deep valleys allows you to climb higher mountains after.
Free Your Mind and Your Ass Will Follow
The real power was in the shadow work. Our bodies are usually capable of much greater tasks than we can imagine. But our minds are weak. “Free your mind and your ass will follow” as the old Funkadelic Album says.
We are all on our path of individuation. And we all walk it at our own pace. We have to walk it alone, but we can surround ourselves by like-minded people. Like here at the Small Reset. Here I share my personal journey, and I invite you to share yours.
Just get started. Find your discomfort, find your growth. It’s just a decision: a 24-hour fast or dream journaling. Embrace the edge where transformation happens. In constant disruption, sovereignty starts inside. What’s your first step? Let’s grow through what challenges us.
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