If blogging is the new therapy, pace yourself because I’m going to be here for a while.
Sleep time clocked in around 3-4am.
Wake-up part 1 was around 7:30am and wake-up part 2 was around 9am.
Now here’s where it gets tricky. Waking up and getting up are not the same. The words are different. The definitions are different. The actions are WAY different. At least for me.
I drew a line in the sand. Expectations were set and they’re low, really low. Right now I’m content with not waking up at 2pm but I’m extending the boundaries of what’s acceptable to be realistic about change. Crashing at 3:30am is just not going to fly.
Success is a story we tell ourselves, like fairy tales from our childhood. “I want to be” is a classic ode to the happily ever after fables that would reassure us “good trumps evil” and the world is all well.
When we get older, we tend to reinvent those stories. We look at peers and mentors for inspiration. “Beyonce replaces Cinderella” kind of thing.
We still hold on to “I want” that we ignore “I am” since it’s not part of the narrative.
Stories are all we have. When we’re on our death beds at 90, we have countless of stories locked up in our minds. Those memories are what defines the lives we lived.
- Cinderella can recall the time she dropped a surprise album in her prime.
- Sleeping Beauty can recall the time some stranger woke her up from a coma.
- Snow White’s stories are what most porns are made of.
So as I look to my self-rehab of becoming an early riser, I will be wise to remember that the stories I tell myself every morning in bed are what defines the future I will have. Staying in an extra hour doesn’t really do much for my narrative, at least not for the version I want to be proud of.
There’s being good enough and being awesome.
Every morning I hope to be awesome.
Every day I settle for being good enough.
Somewhere in there is a disconnect that keeps me from living the life I imagine for myself. I don’t have to fall off the wagon to realize I’ve stumbled but I do have to own up to it as it happens without telling myself that the bar “is so low.”
With managed expectations comes realistic accountability.