I’m officially throwing in the towel on trying to become a morning person. Honestly, it’s better for everyone if I ease into my mornings. I’m at my best around 10 or 11 a.m., and I’ve accepted that. There was a time when I didn’t have the luxury of choice I had children to care for, school drop-offs, and endless to-do lists that demanded I hit the ground running. But now, that chapter has passed. I remember the first morning when no one needed me to be anywhere or take them anywhere. I woke up when I wanted to, with no agenda other than my own. It was liberating and, frankly, a little surreal.

Back then, my identity was completely wrapped up in being a mother. Everything I did revolved around my children. Now, I’m stepping into a new phase of life, one where I get to discover me. I’m learning that I’m funny, that I’m compassionate, and that I love being around people who make me smile. Who would’ve thought I could be this person without the constant tasks of motherhood? Strangely, some people I meet don’t even know I have adult children and I’m okay with that. It reminds me that I’m more than “mom”; I’m a whole person with layers waiting to be explored.

This journey started with me admitting that I’m not a morning person and slowly waking up to the truth of who I am now. I’m not mad about it not even a little. In fact, I’m embracing this stage of life with gratitude. Letting go of who I thought I should be has given me the freedom to love who I actually am, whether that’s a slow riser or someone savoring life’s quieter moments.