I broke my fast 3 minutes early…

Last week was Yom Kippur, the Day of Atonement. It’s a solemn day in the Jewish calendar when we repent for our sins by fasting from both food and liquids. It’s also a time of deep reflection — spiritually, emotionally, and even physically. It’s also a time to slow down and get real — with yourself, with your beliefs, with what really matters. Everything gets quieter. There’s less distraction, less comfort, and way more honesty. For as long as I can remember, I’ve fasted the requisite 26 or so hours — from sundown one night to after sundown the following night, when I leave services and (hopefully quickly) get to wherever I’m breaking the fast.

This year, I deepened my observance. I abstained from electronics, wore white, and even skipped certain hygiene rituals (I’ll spare you the stinky details). Some years feel easier than others. Given the increased level of observance this year, maybe it felt a little harder. My mom was also in town, which is rare for the holiday, so I might’ve been more distracted too.

Still, fasting — especially from water — is not meant to be pleasant. As my rabbi reminded me, we even avoid wearing leather shoes because we’re not supposed to be comfortable. When I told my husband my canvas sneakers were actually quite comfortable, he informed me that some people even put a pebble in their shoe to ensure the right level of discomfort. (Full disclosure: I did not do that.)

Anyway, you can probably imagine — or know from experience — that when it’s time to break the fast, you are READY TO EAT. More often, it’s the thirst that’s worst.

Normally, we’d break the fast at home or at a friend’s or relative’s place. But this year, break-fast fell just hours before my mom’s birthday. Plus, we were invited to a wedding the following night. So, we decided to celebrate by taking my mom to a new Persian restaurant we’d been wanting to try.

We sat down. There was a water carafe on the table. I immediately poured water for each of us and — without thinking — I took a sip.

It was three minutes until 7:11 PM — the precise time the fast was supposed to end.

If you’re not Jewish, you might not understand how precise everything is. For example, on Friday nights when I light the Sabbath candles, I check the exact time they must be lit. Nothing is done casually. So when I took that sip of water three minutes too early, I immediately felt like I’d messed up.

For the next few days, I wrestled with the mistake. Would I have to wait a whole year to atone for my slip-up? Or did my increased level of observance somehow balance it out? I was half berating myself, half negotiating with myself. And let me tell you — it wasn’t pleasant.

And the funny thing is, it was Yom Kippur — the actual day of forgiveness — and I couldn’t forgive myself over three minutes. Isn’t that wild? We’re often so much quicker to forgive others than we are with ourselves.

But here’s the thing: In life, we screw up.

Sometimes we hurt ourselves. Sometimes we hurt our higher power, our colleagues, our spouse, our sibling, our child, the people we employ — anyone. There isn’t a human alive who doesn’t make mistakes.

Some say that’s exactly what makes us human. But what we do with those mistakes? That’s what makes us humane.

How gentle we are — with ourselves, with others, with the moment — is how we add the “e” to human.

But how do we actually do that?

How to Become More Gentle with Yourself

• Notice the Inner Critic. Awareness is the first step. When you catch yourself spiraling into self-judgment, name it. “Oh, here’s my inner critic again.”

• Breathe Before You React. Pause. A deep breath creates just enough space between the mistake and the meaning you assign to it.

• Reframe the Narrative. Instead of “I failed,” try “I slipped — and I’m learning.”

• Talk to Yourself Like a Friend. Would you say the same harsh words to someone you love? Speak to yourself with the same compassion.

• Normalize Imperfection. Being human is messy. It’s not a flaw; it’s the design. We’re not here to get it perfect. We’re here to stay open, to stay kind, even when we mess up.

• Practice Repair, Not Repetition. Make amends if needed, but don’t live in the loop of punishment. Use the experience to grow, not to wallow.

• Celebrate Effort, Not Just Outcome. In my Yom Kippur example, I fasted. I observed more deeply. I made space for reflection. That matters. Small progress is still progress. And honestly, the heart behind it matters more than getting it “right.”

Being gentle with yourself doesn’t mean letting everything slide — it just means remembering you’re still worthy and whole, even when you miss the mark.

As we begin this (Jewish) new year — which started just before Yom Kippur — may we all remember to add a little “e” to our humanness.

With Love,

Your Friendly Life & Health Coach,

Tanya