I, too, like many, have considered myself a morning person. And I’ve even created one in my last child still at home. We both relish those quiet hours when the world sleeps, and we can roam about the cabin like ninjas. Now that he’s living in my “morning time,” I’ve had to move mine even earlier.
Today, for example, he needed help uploading a gift card to his phone.
Ugh. The interruptions.
Let me be clear… I do not wake up happy and ready to go. No, it takes a full cup of coffee and at least two solid hours of pre-dawn silence before I am capable of human interaction. If I wake up at 5 a.m. or later, my whole day is shot. My attitude will stink.
I am definitely not a night person. By 9 p.m., my head and eyes are far too heavy to do anything but crash.
So if I had to define it, I’d say I fall into a third category: a “middle-of-the-night” person. A true 3 a.m.-er. Sometimes I’ll toss and turn from midnight to three, unable to get that precious shut-eye all the doctors and fitness apps swear I need. Which, by the way, I’m tired of hearing. I’ve always been a 4–6 hour sleeper, for as long as I can remember. Eight hours? Sounds great, but just not for me.
As long as I have breath, I will wake while it’s dark and wait for the sunrise to catch up with me.
Yoli's Write To Sanity 
Your “middle-of-the-night” hours feel like a secret superpower waiting to greet the sunrise.
I love how you capture the quiet magic and fierce independence of those early hours.
Reading this makes me want to savor my own pre-dawn moments with the same reverence.
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some call it the “witching hour” but maybe it should be the “b!tching hour” instead.
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