The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)
We’ve all been there. Scrolling through Instagram at midnight, stumbling upon a post of some impossibly perfect human who’s already finished their morning yoga, green smoothie, and daily meditation before the sun even thinks about rising.
And in that moment, bathed in the pale glow of our phone screens, we think, “I could be like that! I could be a morning person!”
The Pact I Made with the Devil (aka My Alarm Clock)
My attempt to join the ranks of chipper morning people started innocently enough. It was a particularly brutal Monday morning, the kind where even my coffee looked at me with pity. I was running late, hair a mess, tripping over my own feet, and desperately trying to find my keys (spoiler alert: they were in the fridge).
That’s when I decided, “Enough is enough! I’m going to become a morning person, conquer the day, and be the envy of all who cross my path!”
The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)
We’ve all seen them—those infuriatingly chipper morning people who practically bounce out of bed, chirping about sunshine and productivity. I’m not one of them. I’m a card-carrying member of the Night Owls Association, where the motto is “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” (which, ironically, might be sooner than later if I keep up my nocturnal habits).
But recently, seduced by promises of increased productivity, boundless energy, and maybe even the ability to make a decent breakfast for once, I decided to embark on a noble and possibly foolish quest: become a morning person.
The Great Alarm Clock Standoff of 2023
My first mistake, I now realize, was going all-in on day one. I set my alarm for 5:00 AM, a full three hours earlier than my usual wake-up time. I even downloaded one of those apps that makes you solve math problems to turn it off. (Let me tell you, nothing screams “I hate the world” like long division at the crack of dawn.)
Yoga Fail: My Downward Dog Was More Like a Dying Walrus
The internet, in all its infinite wisdom, assured me that the key to becoming a morning person was establishing a positive morning routine. So, naturally, I signed up for a 6:00 AM yoga class.
Now, I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe some graceful stretching as the sun gently peeked over the horizon, bathing me in its golden rays. What I got was a dimly lit studio full of terrifyingly alert individuals who looked like they’d already run a marathon and filed their taxes before I even managed to get dressed.
morning person!” I declare to my bewildered cat. Now, for anyone who knows me, this was a bold statement. I’m not just not a morning person; I’m practically allergic to mornings. My spirit animal is a grumpy sloth that just wants to be left alone until at least 10 AM.
But this time felt different. This time, I was going to conquer the morning. I set my alarm for a horrifying 5 AM, visualized myself jogging at sunrise with a green smoothie in hand (delusional, I know), and drifted off to sleep, feeling strangely optimistic.
Day 1: The Snooze Button Became My New Best Friend
The first sign that things were going downhill was the sound of my alarm clock the next morning. Or rather, the sound of me violently swatting at it like a bear defending its cubs. After several rounds of this aggressive snooze button tango, I finally dragged myself out of bed at the ungodly hour of 6:45 AM.
Remember that sunrise jog and green smoothie I envisioned? Yeah, that didn’t happen. Instead, I stumbled around my apartment like a zombie, tripping over furniture and mumbling obscenities at the coffee maker for not brewing fast enough.
Morning Misadventures
By day three, the novelty of my “new life” had worn off faster than a cheap pair of tights. My attempts to be productive before work mainly consisted of:
Staring blankly at my computer screen while mentally writing strongly worded letters to the inventor of alarm clocks.
Accidentally flipping off a cheerful jogger who had the audacity to smile at me while I was wrestling with my coffee thermos. Sorry, not sorry, Brenda, you should see the other guy (me).
Daydreaming about all the glorious sleep I could be having if I just gave up on this whole “morning person” charade.
Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never been mistaken for those of a seasoned gardener. In fact, my plant-parenting track record was more of a graveyard of good intentions and crunchy brown leaves. So, when my friend gifted me a fern – a FERN – I accepted with a mix of hope and trepidation. This, my friends, was a test. Could I keep this delicate creature alive? Spoiler alert: I did, and in the process, I learned a thing or two about more than just watering schedules.
fern, convinced it was thirsty, only to realize later that overwatering is a thing. (Who knew?) It was a classic case of “doing too much” – a pattern I’m unfortunately prone to in other aspects of life. The fern, in its quiet wisdom, taught me the art of observation and patience. Instead of rushing in with solutions, I learned to take a breath, assess the situation, and respond with a gentler touch. Turns out, sometimes the best thing you can do is just let things be.
Lesson 2: Celebrate Small Wins (Like New Fern Fronds)
Remember how I mentioned my history of plant-related casualties? Yeah, that made every new fern frond feel like a monumental victory. Seriously, I’m talking full-on happy dance, maybe even a little victory song. The fern, in its own subtle way, reminded me to celebrate the small wins – those tiny triumphs that often go unnoticed in the hustle of everyday life. A completed to-do list, a heartfelt conversation, a perfectly brewed cup of coffee – these are all moments worthy of a little internal high-five.
The Time I Tried to be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)
We’ve all seen them – those infuriatingly chipper morning people who practically skip out of bed with the sunrise, chirping about how “great it is to be up early!” Meanwhile, I’m usually peeling myself out of bed after hitting snooze for the tenth time, wondering if it’s socially acceptable to wear pajamas to work.
The Pact (and My Unrealistic Expectations)
My journey into the supposed utopia of early rising began, as most bad decisions do, with a conversation over coffee – well, more accurately, over my third cup of coffee while my friend, let’s call her Sunshine Sally, sipped her green smoothie.
“You know,” Sally chirped, “You’d be so much more productive if you woke up early!”
Thus began our pact. We’d both wake up at 6 am, go for a jog, and have a healthy breakfast. I even bought a juicer.
person: energized, productive, and maybe even capable of making my own sourdough bread before work.
Day 1: The Alarm Clock Becomes My Nemesis
The first morning arrived, and my alarm clock (which I swear was judging me) blared its obnoxious wake-up call. I stumbled out of bed, feeling like I had just fallen asleep. My attempt at a “jog” resembled something closer to a zombie shuffle.
Sally, naturally, was already back from her run, looking annoyingly refreshed. She greeted me with a perky, “Good morning! How was your run?”
I mumbled something about “enjoying the fresh air” while mentally composing a strongly worded letter to the inventor of the alarm clock.
Day 3: The Great Coffee Caper
The next few days followed a similar pattern of sleep deprivation and failed attempts at athleticism. By day three, I was running on fumes and caffeine. I even resorted to hiding emergency coffee stashes around my apartment for those pre-dawn moments of desperation.
The Time I Tried to Be a Morning Person (and Failed Spectacularly)
We’ve all seen them – those mythical creatures who bound out of bed at the crack of dawn, practically vibrating with energy and cheer. They’re the ones posting sunrise yoga selfies while I’m hitting the snooze button for the third time, convinced the sun is personally attacking me.
For years, I’ve watched these morning people with a mixture of envy and suspicion. Surely, they’re not human, right? But a tiny voice inside me whispered, “Maybe…just maybe…you could be one of them too.”
Armed with the unyielding optimism of someone who has clearly never experienced 6 am, I decided to embark on a journey of self-improvement disguised as “The Great Morning Person Experiment.” I envisioned myself jogging in the crisp morning air, sipping green smoothies, and generally being one of those annoyingly productive people you see in motivational stock photos.
Let’s be honest, my thumbs have never exactly been emerald green. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve managed to kill a cactus with kindness (RIP, Spike). So, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant—“It’ll brighten up your space!” she chirped—I accepted it with the same enthusiasm I reserve for dentist appointments. Little did I know, this leafy green roommate would soon become my unlikely life coach.
Leafy,” seemed content to just…exist. It wasn’t exactly thriving, but hey, at least it wasn’t a pile of brown mush like my previous attempts at plant parenthood. Then came the day Leafy decided to sprout a new leaf. This wasn’t just any leaf, mind you, this was a monstrous, gangly thing that shot out at an alarming angle. It looked like Leafy was trying to flag down a passing airplane.
“Seriously?” I muttered, staring at the botanical anomaly. “You couldn’t have grown a nice, normal leaf like a normalplant?”
But as the days passed, that awkward leaf unfurled, revealing itself to be the most magnificent, vibrant leaf on the entire plant. It was a stark reminder that growth is rarely linear or graceful. Sometimes, we have to embrace the awkward stages, the unexpected detours, and trust that something beautiful will bloom eventually.
Lesson #2: The Importance of a Good Soak
Now, I’m a big believer in routine. I like my coffee at 8:00 am, my yoga class at 6:00 pm, and my existential dread promptly at bedtime. So, naturally, I approached Leafy’s care with the same regimented precision. Every Sunday, like clockwork, I’d give it a little sprinkle of water.
However, it turns out plants, unlike my carefully curated schedule, don’t always adhere to rigid timelines. After weeks of my meticulous mini-waterings, Leafy started to droop. Its leaves went limp, and it looked about as lively as a discarded feather duster. Panicked, I frantically Googled “droopy plant help ASAP!”
The solution? A good, long soak. Apparently, those little sips weren’t cutting it. Sometimes, we need to ditch the surface-level approach and allow ourselves to be fully immersed in what nourishes us—whether that’s a long bath, a heart-to-heart with a friend, or a weekend spent pursuing a forgotten passion.
The Pre-Dawn Pact I Made (and Immediately Regretted)
Let me set the scene: It’s 5:30 AM, the sun is barely a rumor behind the curtains, and my alarm clock is chirping obnoxiously. Now, for most normal, functioning humans, this might be a typical Tuesday. For me, however, this was a declaration of war on my very nature. You see, I am, and have always been, a card-carrying member of the Night Owls Society. My brain fires on all cylinders at 2:00 AM, I get my best writing done when the moon is high, and the mere thought of a 6:00 AM workout used to send shivers down my spine.
But then, it happened. I stumbled across one of those articles – you know the ones – with titles like “10 Habits of Ridiculously Productive People” or “How Waking Up Early Changed My Life (and It Can Change Yours Too!).” Lured by the siren song of increased productivity and maybe even a shot at early-bird discounts at my local bakery, I decided to make a change. I, dear reader, was going to become a Morning Person™.
Person Mishaps
My transformation started out surprisingly well. I woke up at the ungodly hour of 6:00 AM (a full hour earlier than my usual wake-up time!), made myself a smoothie (that I may or may not have spilled on myself due to my still-dormant motor skills), and even attempted some light yoga (let’s just say my downward dog looked more like a confused dachshund).
However, this newfound productivity was short-lived. My early morning jog felt more like a death march, my attempts at creative writing produced sentences like “The sky was blue, but also kind of sleepy,” and I spent an embarrassing amount of time staring blankly into the abyss of my refrigerator, convinced I had forgotten how to make coffee.
The final straw came during an important work meeting. I, fueled by a potent combination of sleep deprivation and an ill-advised amount of coffee, somehow managed to confuse the CEO with a potted plant during my presentation. Needless to say, my dreams of impressing the higher-ups with my newfound morning-person energy went down in flames (along with my reputation, probably).
Embracing My Inner Night Owl (and My Snooze Button)
After a solid week of pre-dawn misery, I finally surrendered to the undeniable truth: I am not, nor will I ever be, a morning person. I accepted that my creativity thrives after the sun sets, that my ideal breakfast involves copious amounts of coffee, and that my sleep-deprived self poses a danger to both office plants and corporate presentations.
So, I returned to my beloved snooze button, embraced the quiet productivity of the late-night hours, and left the sunrise yoga and green smoothies to those who actually function before noon. And you know what? I’ve never been happier (or more well-rested).
Let’s be honest, my thumbs have a history of being less than green. More like a sickly shade of “oops, I forgot to water you for three weeks” brown. So, naturally, when my well-meaning friend gifted me a houseplant – a supposedly “unkillable” ZZ plant – I accepted it with the enthusiasm of someone handed a ticking time bomb.
Little did I know, this leafy roommate would teach me more than just how to keep something alive (a major win, by the way). It would become an unexpected guru, guiding me towards valuable life lessons I hadn’t even realized I needed.
Now, I’m a notorious instant-gratification kind of gal. Want results? I want them yesterday! But this ZZ plant, oh, it taught me the art of slow and steady. I’m talking glacial pace, folks.
At first, I’d stare at it daily, expecting some grand display of growth. “Come on, sprout a new leaf! Do something spectacular!” I’d urge it, as if it were a contestant on a reality show. But the plant remained stoic, unfazed by my impatience. It taught me that real growth, the kind that matters, takes time. It’s about consistency, small efforts over a long period, and accepting that sometimes, you just gotta chill and let things unfold.
