When Owls Enroll in Rooster Training Camp

“Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise,” they say. But what if your brain replies, “Nice try, but I run on nocturnal fuel!” For years, I’ve proudly embraced the night owl lifestyle, with my brain firing on all cylinders long after the world has gone to bed. Staying awake until 4 a.m.? Easy. Waking up at 4 a.m.? A nightmare in motion.

During exams, while my classmates woke with the sunrise to study, I thrived under moonlight, burning the midnight oil. Once, in a surge of misplaced determination, I decided to join the early bird club. At 5 a.m., I cracked open my books, armed with optimism. By 5:45 a.m., I was back under my blanket, snoozing my way back to comfort. Mornings and I, I realized, were a mismatched pair—like oil and water, destined to stay apart.

But life has a way of forcing evolution. “Change is the only constant,” they say, and with kids to nurture and work to manage, my late-night habits began to feel like thieves stealing away my precious evening family time. Mornings, once my nemesis, now appeared as untapped treasures of productivity and peace.

The transition, however, has been anything but graceful. Imagine trying to turn an owl into a rooster—it’s as chaotic as it sounds. Yet, “where there’s a will, there’s a way,” and I’m determined to make it work.

These days, I wake up groggily, squinting at the sunrise like a vampire greeting daylight. As I sip my morning tea and plan my day, I remind myself, “Small steps lead to big changes.” Who knows? This night owl might just find her voice to chirp at dawn after all.