The Morning I Finally Slowed Down

For years I woke up like my day was already chasing me.
The alarm would ring, and before I even opened my eyes, my mind was already at school, at work, at everything. My mornings weren’t mornings — they were races.

One day, I decided to change that. Not because I planned to — but because I burned out. My body just said, “enough.”

So the next morning, instead of rushing straight to my phone, I sat by the window and turned on my red light panel. The room was quiet except for the faint hum of it glowing. It was the first time in months that I didn’t feel like I had to earnmy peace.

Those five minutes became a small ritual. No music, no podcast, just me and the warmth on my skin. I started noticing things again — the sound of my breath, the way the light hit the wall, how soft everything looked before sunrise.

I realized slowing down isn’t laziness; it’s clarity.
You can’t see your own life clearly when you’re sprinting through it.

Now, that same five minutes has become the most consistent thing in my day. It’s the moment where I remind myself I’m not behind. I’m just human — trying to start again, one calm morning at a time.