Today marks 14 days in a row of waking up between 5:30 and 6:30am. 

I’ve tried to do this sort of thing before, but it’s never worked. It was never sustainable. I’d make the declaration that I was going to start waking up early, but I wouldn’t adjust my bed time. I’d set my alarm for 6:30am as I was crawling into bed at 1:00am. By day three I’d be so sleep deprived that my ex would find me passed out on the couch with half a banana in my hand. I’d wake up feeling groggy, disappointed and annoyed at myself for my failure to commit. I didn’t realize that the problem wasn’t my commitment in the morning, my problem was my commitment at night.

I’m doing things differently this time. I’m going to sleep earlier: everyday between 10 and 11pm (10 being my target bed time, but life happens) I’m turning out my light and breathing in the day as I hug my stuffed animals close my chest. Yes, I realize that I am a female in her mid-twenties and that I should be out there “enjoying my life” – I’ve had this reasoning told to me before – but I actually feel happier than I’ve felt in a really long time.

Perhaps I haven’t been perfectly alert everyday, but I’ve never felt groggy. I’ve even started waking up 5 minutes before my alarm. My body LOVES the regularity of schedule, and I can feel it. My productivity has gone through the roof. I feel creative, driven and open to possibilities. I feel like I’m waking up to my life.

I’m also waking up to my most deeply buried fears

What’s helped me to get up early is having a place to go. Every weekday I’m at Yyoga doing either TRX, spin, or yoga at 6:15 or 6:30am. On weekends they’re not open that early.

Waking up early is empowering… but I find it hard to kick back the covers if I don’t have a class to make.

The last two weekends have taught me that getting up early is uncomfortable when I’m not actually in a rush. My life is uncomfortable when I’m not in a rush.

The house is quiet. Both my roommates are asleep. I lay in bed for a half hour starring at my ceiling. I’m warm underneath my blankets. I don’t move and my thoughts take over. I pack my days full of coffees with friends and work. I feel enormously empowered and alive, but it doesn’t escape me that I’m also running from myself; from this feeling of being lonely that I’m not incredibly familiar with.

I went to see a movie with two friends two weekends ago. As the credits rolled a pang of panic hit my chest. Both my roommates were away. Soon I was going to be alone again. I’m an introvert. I love being alone. But there’s something different about this feeling. Despite hours of journalling, I don’t know if I can explain it yet.

Early in the morning, no matter who you are and how much support you have around you, you are alone. I spoke to the spin instructor after class two days ago. She told me that before the sun comes up our cortisol levels are low. That’s why it’s the perfect time for reflection. I’ve never spent so much time in reflection. I’ve never grown so quickly. I’ve never felt so in control. I’ve never felt so uncertain and scared.

In the morning the world is quiet. That’s why I love it. The quiet scares me. The quiet challenges me. The quiet reminds me that I’m not perfect and that I never will be. It reminds me that, although I’m enormously grateful for the relationship and that it has ended, I still have some healing to do. It’s okay that I’m feeling two things at once. I can feel incredibly happy and sad at the same time. My life is different now. Without a doubt it’s a good different, but different nonetheless. Different is scary.