Week 1: I set my alarm for 5:30 AM. The internet told me that successful people wake up before the sun. “The early bird gets the worm,” they said. Nobody mentioned that the early bird also gets existential dread and a headache.
Day 1: Alarm goes off. I stare at the ceiling for eleven minutes contemplating whether “success” is really worth it. I decide it is. I get up. I make coffee. I stand in my kitchen at 5:47 AM in the dark, alone, wondering what I’m supposed to do now. The internet said to “journal.” I write: “It is dark. I am tired. This was a mistake.” I go back to bed at 6:15.
Day 3: I discover that 5:30 AM has a smell. It smells like regret and cold tile. My cat looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. He’s not wrong.
Day 5: I manage to stay up. I meditate for ten minutes, which mostly consists of me making a mental grocery list and then feeling guilty about not being mindful. I try to read. The words swim. I try to exercise. My body sends a strongly worded letter of complaint. I eat breakfast at 6 AM and then second breakfast at 8 AM because apparently I’m a hobbit now.
Week 2: I adjust the alarm to 6:00 AM because 5:30 was “too aggressive” (my therapist’s words, not mine). This is marginally better. I can now form complete sentences before 7 AM, which feels like progress.
Day 9: I watch the sunrise for the first time in my adult life. It’s genuinely beautiful. I take a photo. Instagram gives me 4 likes, which is 4 more than my sunset photos get, so maybe there’s something to this.
Day 11: I fall asleep at my desk at 2 PM. My coworker takes a photo. It gets 47 likes. Life is unfair.
Week 3: The internet now tells me that morning routines should include “cold showers for mental clarity.” I try this once. The clarity I achieve is the crystal-clear understanding that I will never do this again.
Day 16: I notice I’m going to bed at 9 PM. Like a grandparent. My friends invite me out on a Friday night. “Sorry, I can’t,” I say. “I wake up early now.” They look at me like I’ve joined a cult. Maybe I have.
Week 4: I’ve been waking up at 6 AM consistently. My mornings are structured. I journal (real thoughts now, not complaints). I read for twenty minutes. I go for a short walk. I feel… fine. Not transformed. Not enlightened. Fine.
And here’s the truth nobody puts in the productivity articles: becoming a morning person doesn’t change your life. It just moves your life earlier. The same problems you had at 10 AM, you now have at 6 AM. The difference is that nobody’s awake to bother you while you have them.
Final rating: 6/10. Would recommend only to people who enjoy silence and don’t have cats that judge them.