I Tried Being a Morning Person for a Week and Became a Delirious Zombie With Granola

Let’s get one thing out of the way: I am not a morning person.

Never have been. Never will be—unless science invents a way to make espresso intravenously available the second I open my eyes.

My natural habitat is somewhere between 10:45 a.m. and “Oops, I missed lunch.” I have always viewed people who bounce out of bed at 5:30 a.m. as mythical woodland creatures—beautiful, but deeply suspicious.

Still, I decided to give it a go.

I wanted to know: Could I become a morning person in just one week? Could I embrace sunrises, meditation, and early productivity like the Pinterest people?

Could I transform my groggy soul into one of those serene humans who smile during yoga while the rest of us are still wiping crust from our eyes?

Let’s find out.

Day 1: The Reckoning

Alarm: 5:30 a.m.

Mood: Betrayed by the universe.

The sound of my alarm felt like being slapped by a tambourine. I flailed for my phone like it was a grenade and groaned so loudly I startled my neighbor’s dog (sorry, Peaches).

I dragged myself out of bed, convinced that every cell in my body had staged a protest. My limbs refused to coordinate. My brain was just flashing the word WHY in all caps.

I made a cup of tea, sat on the couch, and tried to “greet the day.” Instead, I stared at a sock on the floor for 22 minutes and accidentally fell back asleep with it in my hand.

So far, so not enlightened.

Day 2: I Accidentally Meditated (a.k.a. Dozed Upright)

Determined to redeem myself, I set an intention for the day: “I will be present and energized.”

Then I sat cross-legged and opened a guided meditation app.

The voice was calming. The breathing was nice.

Then it said, “Focus on your breath.”

I focused so hard… I passed out sitting up.

Woke up 40 minutes later with a crick in my neck and a mysterious crumb on my forehead.

On the bright side, technically that’s still quiet time. So maybe I’m not failing? Just… creatively succeeding?

Day 3: The Breakfast That Changed Nothing

People say breakfast is the most important meal of the day. Morning people make smoothie bowls topped with chia seeds and fresh hope.

So I tried.

I made granola with yogurt, blueberries, and a drizzle of honey. It was Instagrammable. It was wholesome.

It also tasted like a nap.

I sat there chewing, silently mourning the full 9 hours I wasn’t sleeping. Then I looked out the window and saw a jogger smiling while running. Running. Smiling. In the same activity.

I wanted to call the police.

Day 4: Peak Delirium

By Day 4, I hit the sleep-deprived version of enlightenment—somewhere between total exhaustion and vague euphoria.

I found myself cleaning the kitchen at 6:12 a.m., humming an original song called “Why Is the Sun So Aggressive?” I spoke to my toaster like it was a supportive roommate.

I also watched two full YouTube videos on how to fold fitted sheets, even though I only own one and I’ve accepted it will forever be a fabric blob.

My brain was operating like a Windows 98 computer. Slow. Loud. Slightly haunted.

Day 5: The Betrayal of the Sunrise

I figured if I couldn’t enjoy being awake, maybe I could enjoy why I was awake.

So I set out to watch the sunrise.

I made tea, wrapped myself in a blanket like a wise woman of the woods, and perched by the window like I was about to unlock ancient secrets.

I waited.

And waited.

It was cloudy.

The sun kind of… shrugged its way into the sky. There was no golden burst. No Instagram-worthy light rays. Just a grayish smear of light that felt like a slap in the face.

I whispered, “I woke up for this?” and then went back to bed. Dramatically.

Day 6: Productivity, Sort Of

To be fair, this was my best day.

I managed to write two emails, do yoga without falling over, and even take a walk—all before 9 a.m. I felt alive. Capable. Slightly smug.

I strutted around like a rooster in leggings. “Maybe I am a morning person,” I thought.

Then 2 p.m. hit like a tranquilizer dart.

I fell asleep mid-sentence while responding to a text. My phone autocorrected my exhaustion into gibberish and sent someone a message that said “Yes, grapejob indeed. 🌾”

I do not remember this. I only know it happened because my friend texted back, “Are you okay? Blink twice.”

Day 7: The Grand Conclusion

I gave it my all. I really did.

But here’s the truth: I am not a morning person.

I am a mid-morning, strong-tea, start-slow, build-momentum kind of person. And that’s okay.

Waking up early didn’t unlock any cosmic productivity superpowers. It just gave me more hours in the day to question my choices and stare at the kettle.

Sure, I got a few things done earlier. But I also spent a lot more time wondering why I do that thing where I start scrolling through kitchen organization hacks even though I live in a rental with three drawers.

So yeah. I learned things. But I also learned that sleep is not the enemy—it’s the soft, warm ally I betrayed for the false promise of sunrise clarity.

What I Actually Learned (When I Wasn’t Sleepwalking)

Morning routines aren’t magical unless they’re yours.

Don’t copy what works for people with different bodies, brains, or alarm clock trauma.

Your worth is not determined by your wake-up time.

You’re not lazy if you get your best work done at 11 a.m. with a cinnamon bun in your hand.

Granola does not equal inner peace.

Sometimes, it just means you’re chewing aggressively while questioning your entire lifestyle.

Don’t chase someone else’s perfect schedule.

Chase what energizes you. Even if it starts with a snooze button and a snack.

Would I Try It Again?

Maybe… with training. Like a sleep Olympic event.

But for now? I’m embracing my natural rhythm.

I may not rise with the sun, but I rise eventually. And when I do, I bring coffee and cozy vibes. That has to count for something.