When I was in school, I used to wake up at 5:00 AM.
There was a rhythm to those mornings.
The world was quiet, and I felt like I had a head start on life.
Back then, I didn’t think much about discipline or mindfulness.
It was just how things were, routine, simple, and peaceful.

But everything shifted once I moved to the hostel during university.
Nights got longer.
Sleep became irregular.
Late-night conversations, movies, junk food, and scrolling till my eyes burned became normal.
I gained weight, lost my energy, and mornings slowly disappeared from my life.
I started to believe I was a night person, that creativity only struck after midnight.
It felt cool back then, but I didn’t realize how much it was draining me.

Now, running three startups, that habit followed me.
Working late became a badge of honor.
I told myself that success meant late nights, endless hustle, and little rest.
But somewhere in those quiet 2 AM hours, when my laptop screen was the only light in the room, I started feeling lonely.
Not the kind of loneliness that comes from being alone, but the kind that comes from being disconnected from yourself.
After work, I’d lie in bed, overthinking everything.
Ideas, worries, and regrets are all playing on repeat.
By the time I slept, it was already 3 AM.
And every morning, I’d wake up late, rushing, guilty, and already behind.

One day I just decided to change it.
Not because of productivity hacks or some YouTube motivation video, but because I missed peace.
I missed mornings.

So I made a deal with myself to wake up at 6:00 AM for 30 days, no matter what.
To make sure I didn’t fall back into old habits, I even told my maid to come at 7:00 AM.
That way, the noise of sweeping and utensils would keep me from crawling back into bed after my exercise.
It worked better than any alarm ever could.

At first, it was painful.
My body resisted it.
Every morning felt like a fight against gravity.
But I showed up anyway.
Fifteen minutes of exercise became twenty, then thirty.
Not for fitness, but to wake myself up, to tell my body that I was back in control.

After a few weeks, something changed.
It wasn’t just my sleep cycle.
It was the way I experienced time.
Those early hours became a space where I could think without noise.
No notifications. No expectations. Just silence.
I started journaling some mornings, planning others, and sometimes just sitting quietly with tea, watching the sun climb up the sky.

That stillness began to spill into the rest of my life.
I felt calmer during the day.
My thoughts were clearer, and my work felt lighter.
For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t reacting to life, I was moving with it.

The lesson wasn’t about waking up early.
It was about discipline and alignment.
You can’t control most things in life, markets, people, luck, but you can control when you show up.
And how you start your day decides how you live it.

Time doesn’t multiply when you wake up early.
It deepens.
The same 24 hours suddenly feel different when the first two belong fully to you.

Now, after 30 days, I realize that mornings are less about hours and more about energy.
They’re a reminder that peace isn’t something you stumble upon at the end of the day.
It’s something you create at the start of it.

We often chase control in the big things: success, money, recognition, but it actually begins in small choices.
Like waking up when you said you would.
Like exercising when no one’s watching.
Like keeping promises to yourself.

It’s funny how something as simple as waking up early can feel like reclaiming a part of your soul.
Because when you do, you stop living on autopilot and start living with intention.

I started waking up at 6:00 AM, thinking I’d gain more time.
What I really gained was myself.