Member-only story
Stop trying to fix what isn’t broken
Yesterday I closed my eyes, convincing myself I would wake up at 6 am.
I had big plans for the morning. I would grab myself a steaming coffee, I would plant myself in my office, and tap away on this computer until it was time to work. I’m trying to be better, to write more, to dedicate more time to the craft because the obvious truth is, I’m better when I write. Mentally, emotionally — most of my problems are solved by writing.
It’s just the fortunate truth for me.
And so, of course, I woke to my pounding, snoozed alarm at 7 am. I smiled.
You know, a few years ago this would destroy my entire day. I would have really beat myself up about it — Banging on all day about the fact I wasn’t living up to my potential, that I should be better, that if I wanted to do great things I really needed to start taking things more seriously.
But today? I woke up smiling.
I know I overslept. I know I snoozed the alarm. I know I said yesterday I wouldn’t. But it’s a reminder of this beautifully imperfect life. That I am hopelessly flawed. That I’m not a robot. I won’t wake up every morning on the dot because my alarm goes off. I’m not programmable. I am human. And I might as well be okay with that, because it’s not changing.
