Sometimes the real reason someone stops being vegan isn’t what they say—it’s what they quietly don’t.

I’ve had more than one conversation that started like this:

“I used to be vegan…well, mostly. But then life just got…complicated.”

And then comes the awkward pause. A sheepish smile. A quick pivot to something else.

No big confession. No drama. Just a quiet kind of retreat. And the more I’ve noticed it, the more I’ve realized: it’s not uncommon. Some people give up veganism without saying they’ve given it up. They just…fade out.

Soften the edges. Add a little dairy back in here, a bit of seafood there. Not because they’re “anti-vegan” now. But because something quietly stopped working—and they didn’t know how to talk about it.

So they don’t.

Let’s talk about why.

It stopped aligning with their energy, but they felt guilty saying so

For some, the shift happens slowly. They notice they’re tired more often. Craving things they didn’t before. Feeling mentally foggy or emotionally drained in ways that weren’t happening before they made the switch.

But instead of questioning the lifestyle, they question themselves.

Did I not meal prep enough?

Am I being lazy?

Am I just not “doing it right”?

This kind of inner dialogue is common—and it can turn the choice into a quiet stressor. As noted by registered dietitian Taylor Wolfram, “When people try to follow strict food rules without considering their unique needs, it can backfire both physically and emotionally.”

And so, some people opt out—not loudly, but softly. One scrambled egg at a time.

They got tired of being “the difficult one” in social settings

Here’s a situation I know too well: showing up to a dinner party only to find out the “vegan option” is just salad—hold the dressing, because it has honey.

Or going on vacation with friends and spending half the trip scanning Google Maps for anything remotely plant-based.

Eventually, for some people, this becomes less of a fun challenge and more of a social tax. You start to dread being the “one with the special needs.” And in moments where connection feels more important than consistency, it’s easy to let things slide.

One former vegan I spoke to recently told me, “I didn’t want to keep being the reason everyone had to change plans. So I just…stopped mentioning it.”

And that’s how it often begins—not with a decision, but with an accommodation.

They were never doing it for themselves in the first place

This one is uncomfortable to admit—but it happens more than we think.

Sometimes people go vegan because a partner is. Or a roommate. Or because everyone in their online wellness circle is doing it and it seems like the “right” thing to do.

And if the motivation was never internal, it’s easy for the habit to evaporate the minute the external pressure disappears. A breakup. A move. A shift in social media algorithms. Suddenly, the behavior doesn’t have an anchor.

As psychologist Dr. Susan David has noted, “Values are not what you say you believe. They’re what you do consistently.” So when the doing stops, it’s worth asking: was this ever about me?

For many quiet quitters, the answer is…not really.

The pressure to be “perfect” became exhausting

The online vegan space can be inspiring—and also wildly unforgiving.

If you accidentally use white sugar that was processed with bone char, someone will call you out. If you admit you miss cheese, someone will say you never really cared about animals. And if you try to reintroduce something for health reasons, the accusations of being “plant-based, not vegan” come fast and fierce.

There’s this unspoken pressure to be not just consistent, but ideologically pure.

And for people who came in with good intentions but without the desire to debate food politics daily, it can be too much. They start shrinking from the label. Stop identifying with the community. Not because they’ve changed their values, but because the space no longer feels safe to evolve in.

They experienced health challenges and didn’t know who to trust

Let’s be honest: not all vegan diets are healthy. Swapping chicken for Oreos and fries is still vegan—but it’s not going to make you feel great.

Unfortunately, when health issues come up—like fatigue, gut imbalances, or blood sugar crashes—some people struggle to find a practitioner who gets both the science and the ethics. They’re either told to “just take supplements” and hope for the best, or urged to “just eat meat again” with zero sensitivity.

Somewhere in between those extremes is a nuanced conversation. But many never find it. So they give up—not just on the food, but on the process of trying to figure it out.

And once they feel better, they don’t want to open that door again. Especially if they’re scared of being judged by the very people who once cheered them on.

They still care—but they don’t want to talk about it

This is perhaps the quietest reason of all.

They still believe in animal welfare.

They still worry about the climate.

They still try to make plant-forward choices.

But they’ve stopped identifying as vegan because they’re afraid of being seen as a hypocrite if they slip.

This is something therapist Judith Matz has spoken about in a different context: “When people feel shame about food choices, they often go silent—not because they don’t care, but because they care too much and feel like they’ve failed.”

That’s the tension so many face. They don’t want to make a public statement. They don’t want to argue on Reddit. They just want to live in peace—and maybe quietly order the falafel even if the sauce has yogurt in it.

Why we should talk about it anyway

I think it’s important to make space for these quieter stories. Not to shame anyone. Not to dissect their “why.” But to remind ourselves that identity is fluid, and food is personal.

Just because someone no longer labels themselves vegan doesn’t mean their choices don’t matter.

Just because they don’t want to debate their ethics on Instagram doesn’t mean they’ve stopped caring.

And just because something stops working doesn’t mean it was a mistake to try.

Final thoughts

When someone fades out of veganism, it doesn’t always come with a dramatic post or a defensive explanation. Often, it’s just a quiet recalibration. A new set of needs. A softening of rules.

And sometimes, the best thing we can do—for ourselves and others—is to stay curious, stay compassionate, and let people grow in the direction that nourishes them most.

Even if that growth doesn’t fit neatly into a label.