waking up late…


Two mornings in a row this week, I woke up late. Panic and adrenaline pushed me through my morning routine (I’m huge on my morning routine and my day is all out of whack if I can’t do everything I want/need to do). I always feel as though I won’t make it – that I won’t have time to finish everything or that I’ll forget something before walking out the door. Plus, with the construction everywhere, road rage is also an issue once I hit the highway (more like the back roads since the highways are jammed). But both mornings (consecutive mornings) I made it, although one I arrived late (due to oversleeping and traffic).

I always get out the door. I always arrive. My life history has proven that waking up late is no cause for alarm, but still when I oversleep my alarm, I always freak out.

Back in college, my junior year, there was one week where I think I woke up late three days in a row.

One morning I woke up super late. My roommate was scheduled for her shower, so I washed my hair in the kitchen sink. Another morning that week, I showered, dried and flat-ironed my hair, put in contacts, ate breakfast, and brushed my teeth, and arrived at school the exact minute class started. I was rather impressed with my speediness that morning. One of my roommates told me it was the fastest she’d seen someone get completely ready – dry hair and all!

The year before, sophomore year, in the middle of January, I had to be in the dorm parking lot to meet my friend at 6:15 am every Tuesday. We couldn’t wear sweats and pony tails, either. We had to be somewhere where our appearance mattered and dress code was “enforced.” And since it was winter, we had to make sure there was time to scrape off the car windows and warm up the interior so as not to freeze to death.

But one morning, I missed my alarm. I was out cold. The friend I met in the mornings went to the parking lot…and then came back in the dorm…to my room…and knocked. One of my roommates heard the door. In her half-awake state, she opened the door…and let my driving buddy in. I woke up that morning to her standing by my bunk bed calling my name.

I more than freaked out. Quietly, I had to rush to get ready. No shower. No breakfast. No double-checking my outfit to ensure it matched. No time to put contacts in. No time to wash, dry, or flat-iron my hair.

Despite not accomplishing my morning tasks, I survived that day. And the other days that I have missed the alarm.

But that’s OK.

These late mornings force me to hurry. To move faster. And sometimes I think that’s what I need more of. I need more urgency. I need to have a fire lit under me. I need to be pushed. I need to race to the finish. I need to get out of my routine – my rut. I need to push aside my doubts and just go for it.

And if my hair isn’t dry, my clothes don’t match, and my breakfast non-existent, I’ll smile and remember that sometimes waking up late is the only way to arrive on schedule.

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