From image.ie
Daniella Moyles, writer, psychotherapist and founder of The STLL, answers your dilemmas
Q: I want to stop being vegan, but I can’t get past the emotional and psychological block. How do I untangle food choices from identity?
There’s a particular kind of panic that comes when we realise we might be changing in a way our past self wouldn’t approve of. Sometimes it’s smaller and stranger than we’d expect, like standing in front of a café menu, wondering why ordering eggs suddenly feels like a moral identity crisis.
As you’ve already noted, one of the most psychologically difficult things about veganism is that, for many people, it becomes strongly woven into their sense of self. You’re not just someone who eats vegan, you become ‘a vegan’. And identities, once adopted publicly, can begin to feel fixed – even more so if they’ve brought with them community, certainty, admiration, or a sense of moral coherence. So if you’re now craving change, it makes sense that your brain is treating this less like a dietary adjustment and more like a threat to your character.
We often assume identity is something stable and authentic, something we discover once and then defend forever. In reality, healthy identity is flexible. Psychologically mature people are usually capable of revising themselves. Rigidity comes when we confuse changing our behaviour with betraying our values. Deciding to eat eggs again does not automatically erase the compassion, environmental concern, or ethical awareness that may have led you to veganism in the first place.
What’s likely happening is cognitive dissonance – the psychological term for the uncomfortable feeling of holding two conflicting truths simultaneously. For example, “I still care about animals, and I no longer want to eat this way.” Our brain hates the uncertainty of this contradiction, so it rushes to resolve it by creating dramatic narratives that might sound like “This is weakness.” “I’m fake.” “I’ve failed.”
In therapy, we’d slow that process down considerably. Instead of arguing with the feeling, we’d get curious about what it’s protecting. Because underneath the loud food narrative, there’s often a quiet, self-defining question like, “Who am I allowed to become?” That question tends to carry particular weight for women, who are frequently rewarded (socially, politically, aesthetically) for consistency and coherence. Once we’ve declared ourselves publicly, changing our minds can feel embarrassing or even socially dangerous, as if revision is the same as unreliability. There’s also the modern pressure to turn every lifestyle choice into a personal brand. Wellness, fitness, clean eating, sustainability, these things easily become moral shorthand for being a “good” person. When your diet has been doing some of that identity work for you, stepping away from it can feel like losing a credential rather than simply adjusting what you eat.
Your morality is not measured by your dietary purity. That framing, where our food choices stand in for aspects of our character, is one worth dismantling, because it tends to produce an exhausting all-or-nothing logic. “If I can’t do it perfectly, I’m a hypocrite.” But all of us live with compromises between our ideals and our reality – our health, pleasure, finances, and changing bodily needs. Nuance is a fact of being human.
Practically, it can help to stop framing this as “becoming a different person” or denouncing your former self. Try to view it as an expansion of your choices. You’re updating your relationship with your body and your values in response to new information, needs, or feelings. That’s psychologically healthy behaviour. In time, you might find yourself ordering a dish without thinking, enjoying it, and only later noticing that you didn’t feel guilty, and that’s your nervous system recalibrating in response.
However, if the emotional block remains strong, please approach it with curiosity rather than force. Shaming ourselves is rarely to never effective. Instead, ask yourself, “What exactly am I afraid this says about me?” Is it a weakness? Selfishness? Loss of belonging? Name the fundamental fear underneath the food, and the food usually loses its power. Becoming fully yourself over a lifetime will require you to disappoint several former versions of yourself. That’s the price of real growth.
