Not Eating Is My Sin
How Yom Kippur insomnia turned into an inventory of missed marks, grudges, and truth-telling
It’s 4:30 a.m. on the dawn of Yom Kippur, and I’ve been awake since 1:30. I grew up hearing this holiday explained in simple terms: “Don’t eat. Repent for your sins.” Meanwhile, little does God know, not eating is one of my sins.
So here I am—wide awake, hungry, and reflecting. Maybe God, the universe, or just my insomnia wanted me up at this hour to finally write down my regrets, missed marks, or sins.
As a kid, I thought this holiday was designed to hurt. I mean, how fun does starving yourself and repenting sound? Exactly.
Actually, if I’m honest, most days of my life have felt like Yom Kippur— barely eating and constantly reflecting.
Half the battle of reflecting clearly is organizing—whether it’s my thoughts, my home, or my car. So yes, I asked ChatGPT how to “do” Yom Kippur reflections. Here’s the list I got back:
What moments this year made you cringe?
Where do you keep repeating the same mistake?
Did fear, pride, or ego drive you instead of kindness or truth?
Did you gossip, hold grudges, lack generosity?
Were you impatient?
Did you dismiss someone’s needs or fail to show up?
Did you ignore, judge, or betray trust?
Were you dishonest or careless with words or responsibilities?
Did you neglect yourself—your body, mental health, or self-worth?
My answer for the collective is: yes.
But for me personally, the answer is: not fully.
I know some people would say I didn’t show up for them. But I also know that many of those same people judged, gossiped, and were dishonest with me. And here I am still doing the thing I shouldn’t: worrying about what they think of me before I even answer what I think of myself.
Where the Marks Were Missed
Friendships
I miss some past relationships, but I don’t miss the gossip or the judgment. I gave too much—more generosity, more honesty, more myself—than was safe to give. I hold grudges because I feel betrayed. If she gossiped about her best friend, sister-in-law, mother-in-law, and father-in-law (all of whom are my family members), then why would I think she didn’t gossip about me too? No wonder they all distanced themselves.
Family
With my sister and my mom, I tried so hard to rebuild from scratch. I offered honesty. I begged for accountability. I got… nothing. My mom’s alcoholism has been the third person in our relationship, and every attempt to help her gets spun into me being the “problem child.” With my sister, I’ve texted, called, emailed—trying to clear years of old, unspoken hurt. Every attempt circles back to the same conclusion: I’m the problem. Not her. Not both of us. Just me.
So I torment myself: Everyone hates me because of me.
But when I sit in this reflection, I wonder if that’s really where I’ve missed the mark. Maybe my “sin” wasn’t that I shared myself—it was that I trusted people who weren’t safe to hold it.
A New Kind of Yom Kippur
Maybe this year isn’t about starving my body into reflection. Maybe it’s about feeding myself a new truth:
I am worthy of myself.
I don’t have to cling to relationships that drain me or eat up precious mental storage.
I can stop shopping for someone else’s approval in a store that doesn’t even carry it.
Because real relationship is sacred. When we share, it’s supposed to be like a trust fall with words. If someone can’t hold that? That’s not my missed mark. That’s theirs.
“I may not be perfect, but at least I’m not fake.” — Lisa Rinna
Happy Yom Kippur — may your sins be lighter than your empty stomach.
XOXO