The transition to veganism doesn't have to be as overwhelming as we make it, but there are a few truths I learned the hard way.
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When I went vegan at 35, I approached it the way I approached everything in my finance career: with spreadsheets, meal plans, and an almost obsessive need to get it perfect from day one. I'd spent weeks reading about factory farming, and the urgency I felt translated into pressure. I wanted to do this right, immediately, flawlessly.
Looking back five years later, I can see how much unnecessary stress I created for myself. The transition itself was one of the best decisions I've ever made, but the path there? It was rockier than it needed to be. Here are the things I wish someone had told me before I started.
1. You don't have to be perfect on day one
I remember standing in my kitchen the first week, nearly in tears because I'd accidentally bought bread with honey in it. I felt like a fraud. Like I'd already failed at something I'd barely started.
Here's what I know now: veganism is a practice, not a performance. The goal is reducing harm, not achieving some impossible standard of purity. When you're learning to read labels, navigate restaurants, and rethink recipes you've made for decades, mistakes happen. They don't erase your intention or your impact.
What if you gave yourself the same grace you'd give a friend who was trying something new and hard?
2. Your protein anxiety is probably overblown
I spent my first month obsessively tracking protein, convinced I'd somehow wither away without chicken breast. My former analyst brain loved the numbers, but the anxiety was exhausting.
The reality? Most people eating a varied vegan diet get plenty of protein without much effort.
Research published in the Journal of the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics confirms that well-planned vegan diets are nutritionally adequate for all stages of life. Beans, lentils, tofu, tempeh, nuts, seeds, and whole grains add up faster than you'd think.
The nutrient worth paying attention to? B12. That one you actually do need to supplement. But protein? Take a breath. You're probably fine.
3. Some relationships will get temporarily weird
Nobody warned me about the dinner party tension. The way my mother would sigh when planning holiday meals. The coworker who suddenly felt the need to defend his bacon habit every time we ate lunch together.
I've learned that people sometimes react to our choices as if they're judgments of theirs, even when they're not. It's uncomfortable, but it usually passes. Most of my relationships settled back into ease once everyone realized I wasn't going to lecture them or refuse to sit at a table where meat was served.
The ones that stayed weird? Those revealed something about the relationship that was already there. Have you noticed how our choices sometimes become mirrors for others?
4. Simple meals are your secret weapon
In the beginning, I thought every dinner needed to be an elaborate vegan recreation of something I used to eat. Cashew cheese that required soaking and blending. Seitan from scratch. It was unsustainable, especially for someone already dealing with burnout.
The meals that actually saved me were boring by Instagram standards: rice and beans with avocado, pasta with marinara and white beans, big salads with chickpeas and tahini dressing. These became my foundation, and the fancier recipes became occasional weekend projects rather than daily obligations.
What would it look like to let dinner be easy sometimes?
5. Your taste buds genuinely change
I didn't believe this one until I experienced it. About three months in, I bit into a ripe mango and it tasted almost unbearably sweet, in the best way. Vegetables I'd tolerated before became foods I actually craved.
There's science behind this. Studies on taste perception suggest our palates adapt to dietary changes over time. The foods that seem bland or unsatisfying in week two often taste completely different by month three. Your preferences aren't fixed. They're more flexible than you think.
Give it time. The cravings that feel urgent now often fade into distant memories.
6. Finding your "why" matters more than finding the perfect recipe
When things got hard, what kept me going wasn't a great vegan cheese or a restaurant with good options. It was remembering why I started. For me, it was the animals. For others, it might be environmental impact, health, or something else entirely.
That core reason becomes an anchor when you're tired, when you're traveling, when someone at Thanksgiving asks for the fifth time if you're "still doing that vegan thing."
Without it, veganism can feel like a diet you're white-knuckling through. With it, the challenges feel like small prices to pay for living in alignment with your values.
What's the reason that resonates most deeply for you?
Final thoughts
Five years in, veganism feels less like a set of restrictions and more like a quiet alignment between my values and my daily choices. But I won't pretend the transition was seamless. It asked me to be patient with myself, to let go of perfectionism, and to trust that the discomfort was temporary.
If you're at the beginning of this journey, know that it gets easier. Not because the world becomes more accommodating, but because you become more confident. You learn what works for your body, your budget, your life.
And somewhere along the way, it stops feeling like effort and starts feeling like home.
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