After the Feast: Finding Our Way Back Without Shame

The holidays have a way of sneaking up on us—and then lingering just long enough to leave behind full bellies, half-empty cookie tins, and a quiet internal voice asking, “Okay… now what?”

As a dietitian, this is one of the busiest—and most tender—times of the year. Not because people suddenly want meal plans or calorie counts (though some do), but because many are wrestling with something deeper: guilt.

“I overdid it..I was so bad this week..I need to get back on track..” may consume your thoughts and rob joy from your life.

And I want to gently pause us right there.

Because if there’s one thing I wish more people understood—both professionally and personally—it’s this:

Enjoying food during the holidays is not a failure. It’s part of being human.

The Problem Isn’t the Food—It’s the Shame

Christmas is a season of abundance. Tables filled with comfort foods. Family recipes passed down for generations. Late nights, early mornings, and rhythms that look nothing like “normal life.”

So when January arrives and the decorations come down, many of us feel pressure to undo December—usually through restriction, control, or punishment.

But here’s the truth I see again and again in my work:

Extreme restriction doesn’t lead to health. It leads to burnout, binge-and-restrict cycles, and a fractured relationship with food—and often with ourselves.

And from a faith-based perspective, I’d add this:

Shame has never been a fruit of the Spirit.

What If “Getting Back on Track” Isn’t What We Actually Need?

At Mindful Faith Living, we talk a lot about alignment—mind, body, and spirit working together rather than against each other.

So instead of asking, “How do I fix what I did over the holidays?”

I invite a gentler question: “How do I care for myself now?”

That shift matters.

Because caring for yourself doesn’t mean erasing joy. It doesn’t mean cutting carbs, skipping meals, or promising yourself you’ll “be better.”

It means returning to balance—not perfection.

Moderation Isn’t a Diet. It’s a Posture.

Moderation often gets misunderstood. People hear it and think:

• “Just don’t eat too much.”

• “Have willpower.”

• “Control yourself better next time.”

But real moderation—sustainable moderation—isn’t about white-knuckling your way through cravings.

It’s about attunement.

• Listening to hunger and fullness cues again

• Re-introducing structure without rigidity

• Choosing foods that nourish and satisfy

• Letting meals be grounding instead of stressful

Moderation is saying:

“I can enjoy food without losing myself in it.”

And that’s deeply aligned with faith.

Grace Belongs at the Table Too

One of the most common things I hear from clients this time of year is, “I just feel so disappointed in myself.”

And every time, my heart aches—because disappointment implies you failed some moral test.

But food isn’t a moral issue!

You’re not a bad person because you had pie. You didn’t lack discipline or “fall off the wagon”because you enjoyed second helpings.

Scripture reminds us that God’s kindness leads us to repentance—not harshness, not self-punishment or fear.

That applies here too.

Grace doesn’t mean ignoring your body’s needs. It means responding to them without condemnation.

A Gentle Way Forward (No Reset Required)

If you’re wondering what the days after Christmas could look like, here’s what I often suggest—not as rules, but as anchors:

• Return to regular meals. Skipping meals to “make up for it” only creates more imbalance.

• Hydrate generously. Not as a detox—just as care.

• Add before you subtract. Add fruits, vegetables, protein, fiber—before cutting anything out.

• Move your body in ways that feel kind. Walking, stretching, gentle strength—movement as gratitude, not punishment.

• Practice neutral self-talk. No labeling foods as “good” or “bad,” and no labeling yourself either.

And maybe most importantly:

Let this be a continuation, not a correction.

Faith, Food, and the Long View

At Mindful Faith Living, we believe health isn’t built in a week—or undone in one.

It’s formed slowly, through consistent care, honest reflection, and compassion for where you are right now.

The holidays didn’t derail your health. They revealed something human: your desire for comfort, connection, and joy.

And those are not things to repent of. They’re things to steward—wisely, gently, and with grace.

So as we step into this quieter season after the feast, my hope for you is simple:

That you would eat with peace. That you would move with gratitude. That you would speak to yourself with the same kindness God extends to you daily.

No reset required. Just a soft return—to nourishment, balance, and grace.