It’s time to get a little bit ahead of the day. I got to finish what I have to do before the day starts. Or at least get as much of it done as I can. So I’m here pushing it. Sleep would be nice, but not in the long run. In the long run I know me. I will be wishing I already had this done. So as much as I don’t want to be here, deep down I do want to be here. By acknowledging that, it makes what I’m doing now not that hard. It makes it bearable. Nothing like some voluntary discomfort in exchange for a comfort that cannot be bought later. A comfort that comes with knowing that you did everything you had to do for the day. The rest of the day becomes yours.
There’s a kind of power in doing the hard thing before anyone’s watching. Before the day has even started, I’m already in motion—planting the flag in the hours ahead. It’s not about punishment. It’s about strategy. The earlier I chip away at the weight, the more space I create for freedom later. That’s how I win back time—not by waiting for motivation, but by moving through resistance while it still has its grip on me.
I’ve learned to appreciate the discomfort that comes with these early pushes. It’s not pleasant, but it’s meaningful. Every minute I spend working when I’d rather sleep is a minute I’m trading for peace later. That kind of peace doesn’t come with a price tag—it comes with pride. I’d rather feel the ache now than the regret later. Regret is loud. Discipline is quiet. But only one of them serves me.
So I keep going. I keep working. I keep showing up. Not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary. I remind myself that I’ve been here before and I’ll be here again. This is where I sharpen. This is where I earn the right to breathe deeper later. I won’t always want to be here—but some part of me always will. And that part of me is the one building the life I said I wanted.
