I am NOT a Morning Person

There’s a funny story from my childhood that comes to mind whenever I think about mornings. I was about seven years old, and I decided I wanted to learn how to ride horses. My dad, being the supportive and resourceful person he was, took me to the only place for that in our town at the time—the military base camp. My father knew the General there. Whether they were friends or just acquaintances, I never really knew.

Little me was in awe of the horses and the whole military scene. The General was a tough, no-nonsense man with impeccable manners, and the soldiers’ respect for him was absolute. It was an impressive experience, and after just two visits, I proudly announced to my dad, “Daddy, I want to be in the military!”

He laughed so hard and for so long that it became a running joke in our family. He told me, “You wouldn’t last a day there. You don’t know this, but they take cold showers every day, and they’re up and running by 5:00 a.m.!” And just like that, my dreams of a military career were crushed. The horses and the grandeur didn’t matter anymore. The idea of waking up at 5:00 a.m. and enduring cold showers was enough to scare me away for life.

Even now, at 46, I lack what I’d call the “morning ability.” It truly feels like a skill that some people have mastered and I haven’t. With age, I’ve found more peace in accepting this about myself. Maybe it’s because I’m less stressed about trying to fit a mold, or maybe I’ve just learned to embrace who I am. In my case, living with cancer has its unexpected perks. Being in chemotherapy or undergoing radiation treatments has forced me to prioritize rest, and I’ve learned to let go of guilt when my body demands it.

This wasn’t always the case. When I was diagnosed, the mental shift was incredibly difficult. I wanted to keep doing everything, but my body simply couldn’t. The idea of taking a nap during the day or spending an entire day on the couch felt unimaginable. I had always been someone with a long to-do list, brimming with things I wanted to accomplish. But cancer—and my body’s new reality—didn’t give me a choice.

Now, I can wake up at 10 a.m. and take a nap three hours later without an ounce of guilt. Sleeping isn’t the problem; my mind has always been the real challenge. Acceptance and patience have been my saving graces.

Cancer treatments come with many side effects, but fatigue is one of the hardest. I like to imagine that my good cells are valiantly battling the bad ones in an endless fight. That’s where all my energy goes, leaving me with little for anything else. Getting frustrated doesn’t help; it’s just another layer of stress I don’t need. Instead, I’ve learned to cooperate with my body. If rest is what it needs, rest is what I give it.

Fatigue isn’t exclusive to cancer patients. Stress, overwork, and even life’s constant demands can leave anyone feeling drained. It’s a universal struggle. My advice to anyone battling fatigue, whatever the cause, is this: Be kind to yourself. Listen to your body. Rest when you need it. Sometimes, the best thing you can do is simply allow yourself to be.

Mornings may never be my favorite, but I’ve found joy in meeting the day on my own terms. And that, I think, is something worth celebrating.

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See y'all in my next post!

With love,Malena 🌿