I Am Not a Vegetarian Anymore and I Don’t Feel Guilty

It’s been about a year since I posted about thinking of quitting being a vegetarian, and I need to tell you something.

I actually did it. After 23 months of no meat, I made the decision to start eating it again. What started as a week-long experiment turned into nearly two years of vegetarianism, and walking away from it wasn’t nearly as simple as I thought it would be. Even though I never intended it to be forever, the guilt and fear of judgment made me overthink it for eight straight months.

But here’s what I learned through all of it. Changing your mind doesn’t make you a quitter. It makes you human. And if you’re struggling with the same decision right now, whether it’s about food or anything else you committed to, you need to hear this story.

Because the hardest part wasn’t eating meat again. It was giving myself permission to stop.

The Comments That Made Me Feel Safe to Consider It

When I first wrote about thinking of quitting vegetarianism, I braced myself for backlash. What I got instead was something I didn’t expect: support. Most of the comments were encouraging, telling me to do what felt right for my body and my life. That validation mattered more than I realized at the time.

But even with that positive response, I still didn’t make the change immediately. Something inside me felt like backing out meant I was weak or uncommitted. I had told people I was vegetarian. I had made it part of my identity for almost two years. Walking away from that felt like admitting defeat, even though I knew from the start it wasn’t meant to be permanent.

The reality is that public commitment creates private pressure. When you tell the world you’re doing something, especially something tied to ethics or health, changing course feels like you’re letting everyone down. But you’re not. You’re just learning what works for you.

Those supportive comments gave me space to think clearly, but it still took me eight more months to actually follow through. That’s how powerful the fear of judgment can be, even when the judgment isn’t really there.

Why I Waited Eight Months to Make the Final Call

I didn’t rush back into eating meat because I wanted to be absolutely sure. This wasn’t about a craving or a moment of weakness. It was about making a conscious, informed decision that I could stand behind without regret.

Here’s what I worked through during those eight months:

• Would I feel guilty every time I ate meat? I needed to know if this was something I could do without hating myself for it.
• Was I making this choice for me, or because it was easier? I didn’t want convenience to be the only reason I quit vegetarianism.
• Could I separate the packet of meat from the animal it came from? I refused to be ignorant about what eating meat actually means.
• Was I okay with the ethics of it? This was the biggest one. I had to get real with myself about whether I could live with this decision long-term.

I didn’t want to flip-flop. I didn’t want to quit, regret it, and then feel even worse. So I sat with it. I researched. I thought about what mattered most to me. And slowly, I realized that the guilt I was feeling wasn’t about the actual choice. It was about what other people might think of me for making it.

Once I separated those two things, the decision became clear. I was ready.

Setting a Date Three Weeks Out to Prepare Mentally

Early December, I made the call. I was going to start eating meat again. But instead of just diving in, I put a date on it three weeks in the future.

I know that sounds weird. Why would you need to schedule eating a meal? But I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when the moment actually came. Would I sit down with a plate of meat and freeze? Would I feel upset or conflicted? Would my body reject it after so long without it?

Giving myself a deadline created mental space to prepare. It wasn’t about building up drama. It was about making sure I was emotionally ready to follow through without second-guessing myself in the moment. I didn’t want doubt creeping in when I was halfway through a meal.

During those three weeks, I kept checking in with myself. Did I still feel good about this? Was I doing it for the right reasons? By the time the date arrived, I felt calm and certain. No hesitation. No last-minute panic. Just readiness.

That buffer made all the difference. It turned what could have been an impulsive, guilt-ridden moment into a deliberate, empowered choice.

Why I Didn’t Talk About It Right Away

When I finally ate meat again in December, I didn’t post about it. I didn’t mention it. I kept it quiet for months.

The reason? Fear. Even though most vegetarians and vegans I know are respectful of other people’s choices, there’s a loud minority that isn’t. The ones who attack. The ones who make you feel like a monster for not aligning with their beliefs. And those are the voices that stick with you, even when they’re not the majority.

I was afraid of being judged, criticized, or attacked for changing my mind. It felt safer to just stay silent and avoid the whole conversation. But that silence came with its own weight. I was hiding a decision I’d spent eight months making, and that didn’t feel right either.

Eventually, I realized something important. If I’m only willing to share the parts of my life that are controversy-free, I’m not being honest. And if my story could help even one person who’s struggling with the same decision, that’s worth more than protecting myself from a few harsh comments.

So here I am, talking about it. Openly. Because you deserve to hear the messy, uncomfortable truth, not just the polished version.

The First Meal Back and What It Actually Felt Like

My boyfriend made me lamb for my first meal back. I thought I’d be nervous. I thought I might feel sick, guilty, or conflicted when I actually had meat in front of me.

None of that happened.

It felt like I’d never stopped eating meat. No guilt. No nausea. No emotional breakdown. Just a normal meal that tasted good and didn’t come with any of the baggage I’d been carrying around in my head for months.

I’d read that some people get sick when they reintroduce meat after a long time, so I did a little research beforehand. Turns out, it takes several years without meat for your body to lose the enzymes needed to digest it properly. At 23 months, I was nowhere near that point. So my stomach handled it just fine.

The lack of drama was almost anticlimactic. After all that buildup, all that mental preparation, it was just… fine. And honestly, that was the best possible outcome. It confirmed that I’d made the right choice for me, without any of the fear or regret I’d been worried about.

How Telling People Beforehand Made It Easier

One thing that really helped was letting people know ahead of time. I didn’t make a big announcement, but I casually mentioned to friends and coworkers that I was going to start eating meat again.

That advance notice took the pressure off when I actually did it. When I sat at my desk eating a bacon sandwich, nobody looked at me sideways. Nobody questioned me. Nobody made me feel like I owed them an explanation. Because they already knew, and they’d already processed it.

If I’d just shown up one day eating meat without saying anything, I would have felt the weight of every glance and every unspoken question. But by giving people a heads-up, I removed that layer of social anxiety completely.

It also made me more accountable to myself. Once I’d told people, backing out would have felt worse than following through. It locked in my decision in a way that made it easier to stick with.

What I Learned From Being Vegetarian for 23 Months

I’m genuinely glad I spent nearly two years as a vegetarian. It taught me things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise.

1. I learned how to cook in completely new ways. I got creative with vegetables, grains, and plant-based proteins. My cooking skills expanded in ways they never would have if I’d stuck to meat-based meals.
2. I learned what my body actually needs. I paid closer attention to nutrition, energy levels, and how different foods made me feel. That awareness didn’t disappear when I started eating meat again.
3. I learned that food choices are deeply personal. What works for one person doesn’t work for another, and that’s okay. There’s no one-size-fits-all answer to how you should eat.
4. I learned that changing your mind is a strength, not a weakness. Being able to reassess and adjust based on what you need right now is a skill, not a flaw.

Vegetarianism wasn’t a failure just because I didn’t stick with it forever. It was an experience that shaped how I think about food, ethics, and personal choice. And I’m better for having done it, even though it’s over.

You’re Allowed to Change Your Mind

If there’s one thing I want you to take from this, it’s this. You are allowed to change your mind about anything. Food. Career. Relationships. Beliefs. Commitments.

Changing your mind doesn’t mean you were wrong before. It means you learned something new about yourself. It means you’re growing. And it means you’re brave enough to admit when something isn’t working for you anymore, even if it worked in the past.

People will always have opinions. Some will support you. Some will judge you. But at the end of the day, you’re the one living your life. You’re the one who has to sit with your choices. And if something doesn’t feel right anymore, you have every right to walk away from it.

That doesn’t mean you should take your commitments lightly or quit at the first sign of difficulty. But it does mean you should give yourself permission to reassess and adjust when your circumstances, beliefs, or needs change.

One life. Your rules. Make choices that sit right with you, not with everyone else.

I spent 23 months as a vegetarian. It was meaningful. It was intentional. And now it’s over. I don’t regret starting, and I don’t regret stopping. Both decisions were mine to make, and I made them for the right reasons.

If you’re wrestling with a similar choice right now, whatever it is, I hope this helps. You’re not a quitter. You’re not weak. You’re just figuring out what works for you, and that’s exactly what you’re supposed to be doing.