On the verge of selling my car almost four years ago, I said to myself: « You won’t be able to act like a little asshole anymore. » No more late nights, no more sleeping in until the very, very last minute, rushing out the door at seven or quarter after. I’d have to be more responsible, and instantly. It is the best thing I ever did for myself.
I sold my car, I started going to bed earlier, ten, eleven, getting up earlier, a very fresh five thirty, taking the subway. Suddenly I had hours of extra time in the morning, time to myself: the hour on public transit, then the extra time after arriving to school, the cushion time built in (and left over) just in case there was an issue in the subway (there never is). I read thirteen novels in the first two months of taking public transit to work. I was in disbelief, amazed, I’d found a hidden treasure, a huge pocket of « me » time, and the glory of the still, silent mornings. Instead of the first order of business of the day being about work, the first order of business was me.
After making this change, I took it one step further. Instead of getting up at 5:30 to shower and leave for 6:30, I started going to bed at nine or ten and getting up at 4:30 to exercise for an hour. In the winter I’d run up the thirty flights of stairs of the apartment building where I live. I could do that eight times in the allotted hour without feeling too rushed.
Waking up and starting to exercise right away began to feel rushed, too. I decided I needed an hour of slow, relaxed, snooze, coffee, podcast, wake up time first. And. So. I began going to bed at eight or nine and waking up at three thirty.
Three thirty. There’s not a sound in the city, so much room to breathe.
What a wonderful way to start the day: a slow hour of peace and reflection, an hour of hard work, using my able muscles, releasing endorphins, an hour to prepare for the day, un-rushed, I am ready, I have taken care of my insides, now ample time to primp the outside, then another whole hour in public transit, reading or writing; four whole hours focusing on my interests, passions, feasting on my soul food, as the first order of business, the priority of the day. Like this, I am well-fed and have so much positive energy to give to my day.
Partying and acting like a mischievous little turd was fun. It was. But I’m glad it ended. My subconscious was ready to move on and my conscious readily complied. Or was it my conscious that was ready for betterment and my subconscious that complied? Hmm. Either way, this is so much more fulfilling, evolved, healthy, it’s progress. I am in love with my early mornings. When do you think I write these posts, after all?