I Tried Waking Up at 5 A.M. Like a Successful Person and Accidentally Started Hallucinating About Toast

At some point in the last few years, waking up at 5 a.m. became the holy grail of productivity. According to social media, if you don’t wake up before the sun and meditate while drinking organic matcha from a handcrafted mug, are you even trying?

So I decided to become that person.

The 5 A.M. Person.

You know the one — organized, focused, powerful… not currently crying into a pillow because their alarm went off before their dreams even ended.

I lasted five days.

This is the story of how I tried to become a morning person and instead found myself talking to toast at dawn.

Day 1: The Heroic Beginning

I set six alarms. SIX.

All with names like:

“You got this!”

“Be the CEO of your life”

“Get up or stay broke”

My phone was aggressively supportive.

At 5:00 a.m. sharp, my eyes opened. Sort of. My body lagged behind like it had no interest in being part of this mission.

I stumbled to the kitchen, made coffee so strong it could’ve legally qualified as a controlled substance, and sat in silence like a raccoon who’d accidentally wandered into a yoga retreat.

“People do this… on purpose?” I mumbled, sipping what was essentially hot regret.

Still, I journaled. I meditated. I even stretched. I felt productive and vaguely smug.

That feeling lasted exactly four hours — until I crashed face-first into my lunch like a tranquilized koala.

Day 2: The Fog Rolls In

I woke up. Barely.

The sun hadn’t risen. The birds were asleep. Even my cat looked at me like, “Seriously?”

I tried to do a morning workout video. Halfway through the first squat, I lay down on the floor and decided I now identified as “horizontal.”

I journaled again. Wrote something profound like:

“I feel tired. Why am I doing this? Time is fake.”

Then I made toast and stared at it for so long I started wondering if it had feelings.

I named it Greg.

Greg was my only companion before sunrise.

Day 3: The Existential Spiral

My body had started staging a rebellion. My eyelids felt weighted. My bones made creaky noises. My dreams were of naps within naps.

I googled “Do successful people actually like mornings?” and found only lies and photos of Elon Musk looking suspiciously awake.

I tried reading. Fell asleep on the book.

I tried yoga. Fell asleep in child’s pose.

I tried affirmations. Stared into the mirror, whispered, “I am powerful,” and immediately yawned so hard I pulled something in my jaw.

By 10 a.m., I’d had two coffees, a breakdown, and one incredibly vivid fantasy about a nap in a warm laundry basket.

Day 4: The Social Decline

Fun fact: waking up early means you become zero percent fun in the evenings.

At 7 p.m., my friend texted, “Movie night?”

I replied, “Only if it ends by 8 and includes a nap intermission.”

At 8:30, I was brushing my teeth while doomscrolling articles about whether humans were meant to be awake this early.

My social life was shriveling like a raisin in the sun I no longer saw rise because I was too busy hallucinating about toast again.

Greg was still with me. Emotionally supportive, if a little dry.

Day 5: The Breakdown

I slept through the alarm. All six of them.

I woke up at 7:42 in a panic, betrayed by my body and Greg the toast, who had clearly jumped ship. (Okay, I just forgot to buy more bread, but emotionally it felt like betrayal.)

I realized I’d become a zombie version of myself:

More alert in the technical sense,

Less functional in every other way.

Also, I hadn't experienced joy since Tuesday. Or carbs that weren’t part of some weird morning fuel plan.

The 5 A.M. experiment was officially canceled.

What I Learned From Failing at Morning Glory

Not every “success tip” is made for every human.

Some people thrive early. Some people peak at 2 a.m. with a bag of Doritos and a dream. Honor your weird rhythm.

Sleep is not optional.

Waking up at 5 a.m. on five hours of sleep is not “grinding.” It’s “slowly unraveling your sense of reality.”

You can’t become a new person overnight.

Especially not a morning person. That kind of change takes time, grace, and probably a medical-grade espresso machine.

You can still have a productive life even if you wake up at 8. Or 9. Or… noon.

(Okay, maybe not noon, but still.)

Do not name your toast.

It leads to attachment. And no one should be emotionally dependent on bread.

Would I Try It Again?

Maybe — with training. With support. With a bedtime that doesn’t involve watching eight TikToks about raccoons being adopted by golden retrievers.

But for now? I’ve returned to my old routine:

Wake up around 7:30.

Roll out of bed with dignity and socks that don’t match.

Make one cup of coffee instead of three.

Wave hello to the sun instead of fighting it.

And that feels successful enough.