I Tried to Be a Morning Person. It Lasted 3 Days.

You know that fantasy we all have? The one where you wake up at 5 a.m., journal your dreams, do yoga in soft lighting, make a smoothie with ingredients you can’t pronounce, and face the day with the calm of a Buddhist monk?

Yeah. I tried that.

For three glorious, chaotic, and slightly delusional days, I tried to become a morning person.

Spoiler alert: I failed.

Spectacularly.

But I learned a lot along the way—mostly that my body is about as compatible with early mornings as a cat is with a bubble bath.

Day 1: The Optimism Phase

I started strong.

Alarm set for 5:30 a.m.? ✅

Sleep playlist with rain sounds? ✅

Cute journal and overpriced candle ready for “intentional reflection”? ✅✅✅

I woke up to the soothing sounds of a harp and immediately slammed my alarm like it owed me money.

But I did it. I got up.

I brushed my teeth while whispering affirmations like a caffeinated cult leader.

I drank lukewarm lemon water.

I sat cross-legged in silence and tried to meditate, but my brain screamed, “Is this how monks live? Why are my legs numb?”

Still, I was proud. This was the new me. Enlightened. Disciplined. Possibly insufferable.

Day 2: The Crack in the Dream

I woke up 17 minutes late because I accidentally hit snooze on my affirmation alarm. The affirmation?

“I am in control of my time.”

The irony stung.

I rolled out of bed like a rotting avocado and lit my fancy candle. Instead of peace, it gave me a headache. I think the scent was called “Cedar Forest Mist but Make It Existential.”

During my journal time, I wrote:

“I hate this. I miss sleep. Is this growth?”

I still did yoga, though. Or something resembling yoga. I think the downward dog turned into a defeated walrus at some point.

Day 3: The Great Collapse

The alarm went off. I did not.

My body said no. My soul said absolutely not.

Instead of rising with the sun, I rose at 10 a.m. with crumbs on my pillow and a half-eaten granola bar stuck to my shirt.

I no longer cared about lemon water. I drank coffee that had been sitting in the pot since the night before.

I did not journal. I did not affirm. I did not glow.

In a fit of dramatic irony, I turned on a motivational podcast titled “Conquer the Morning, Conquer Your Life.”

Five minutes in, I was yelling “YOU DON’T KNOW ME” at my speaker while eating dry cereal out of a coffee mug.

What I Learned From This Entirely Preventable Failure

Not everyone is built for mornings.

And that’s okay. I do my best thinking after 8 p.m. and my worst decisions before 7 a.m.

Routines aren’t one-size-fits-all.

Some people thrive on structure. Others thrive on chaos and reheated tea. I’m the latter.

Trying to force yourself into someone else’s success formula is a recipe for resentment.

I can love the idea of 5 a.m. me without becoming her. She's fictional. Like Narnia. Or healthy group texts.

You don’t have to wake up early to be “doing life right.”

You can be a night owl with existential dread and still live a full, meaningful, meme-worthy life.

The Real Morning Routine That Works for Me

Wake up when my body stops fighting.

Stare at the ceiling for a solid three minutes wondering what year it is.

Check my phone. Hate myself for checking my phone. Continue checking my phone.

Make coffee. Burn toast. Forget I made toast.

Think about meditating. Get distracted.

Sit in silence and sip coffee like a mysterious novelist.

Begin the day. Or not. Who’s judging?

If you’ve ever failed at waking up early, sticking to a routine, or trying to be someone you’re just not—welcome. You are not alone.

💬 Drop a comment with your funniest failed routine story—I need the solidarity.

❤️ Click the heart if you’ve ever cursed an alarm clock.

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Let’s stop pretending we have it all together. The snooze button is sacred, and so are you.