I’ve never been a morning person, not once in my life. I was always sleeping in and groaning and asking for five more minutes. I hated the energy of the morning and I hated the whole process of getting up and ready and positivity. I wrote about the ridiculousness of waking up with fervor.
But, I’ve got a secret. Saturday mornings are now my new favorites, and the earlier the better.
My internal clock is all sort of messed up from my work schedule, and it’s not novelty, but it still hurts. There are people all over the world who operate on strange schedules and don’t complain, but I’ve been sensitive lately, and more than I want to admit to. I’m so grateful to have this new job, but no matter what the seasons bring, rolling out of bed at 3 AM always means it is dark outside, and my body just about gives up trying to stay up past 9 PM these days. So I’m adjusting slowly, but there’s something still so off about it, no matter how many alarms I set or articles I read on REM cycles and adjustment techniques, it just seems so strange.
But Saturday mornings are my own, and selfishly so. No matter how far the week seems to have stretched me or how many unanswered text messages and emails I have ignored or not seen, those hours are perfect. I can’t sleep in like I used to, but even 8 AM feels like heaven. The sun spills in and it feels like a little bit of normalcy. I don’t have to be anywhere or anyone’s but my own and I can drown in leisurely reading or coffee sipped slowly instead of chugging it down in my car at a stoplight. I can be slow and old lady-ish and take my time. My anxiety of needing to see people and be the center of attention vanishes in alone time that is truly earned and a morning that doesn’t need to move fast. I’m forever an extrovert, and I firmly believe that a loud fun night with people can heal the soul, but the slowness and stillness is becoming as addictive in its own way.
Saturday morning when the sun just starts to creep in my windows is like a magic hour, and even though that sounds cheesy, I’ll take all the pixie dust I can find to believe in right now.
I can’t be your Friday night right now, but I can be your Saturday morning. And in all the moments of doubt and nervousness that I still have about my life and where it will go, I can relax in those moments alone. All the feelings of missing best friends in other states who are just trying to figure this out too and a boy who moved across the country to chase a dream are soothed with some quiet time.
Yes, there is something to be said for fast-paced and keeping up with the hustle, but I urge you that sometimes there is something almost romantic about taking your time. It’s like taking yourself on a date and forgetting curfew while it’s still light outside.
I’m not trying to start a revolution (not yet, at least) but if I could offer one piece of advice to you, internet: if you can, wake up early on Saturdays, but wake up slow. Put on something comfy, sip on something delicious, talk to God or talk to your dog or talk to yourself, but just rest. Turn off your phone, close your computer and stop getting hung up on connecting. Be ridiculously good and gentle to yourself in those quiet hours, and I promise it’ll pay off.
And if all else fails, I made you a playlist to help.
Because if I can’t tell you to enjoy it, men and women with acoustic guitars and smooth voices should do the trick.