An honest look at my tug-of-war between being a morning person and a night person, and learning to embrace both.

I have spent most of my life trying to figure out whether I am a morning person or a night person, and the older I get, the more I realize that the answer refuses to stay consistent. Some weeks, I swear I am meant to rise at dawn and drink cucumber water as I go to a 7 a.m. pilates class. Other weeks, I am convinced my brain is not fully functional until the sun goes down. I feel like I am always existing in this weird limbo of both and neither, where I am awake early but productive late, or tired early but energetic later. I know it sounds confusing. Honestly, it feels like trying to label something that keeps changing shape the more I look at it.

On paper, I should be a morning person. I like the feeling of being ahead of my day rather than dragged behind it. On the days when I have an 8:30 a.m. class, something about that schedule forces me into a version of myself that looks and feels put together. I am productive and alert, which sometimes makes me feel proud of myself for being up. There is something efficient about mornings that nothing else quite replicates. I get a lot more things done in the morning, which can be different from the quiet at night.

However, all of this is only possible in this process because of one crucial, but fragile part for me, which is waking up. Unfortunately, in my case, I am not the type of person who wakes up gracefully. I have never known peace in the first 10 minutes of my day. It is always a negotiation within me, mind you, a very dramatic one. I convince myself that maybe time is an illusion, and surely it must still be 3 a.m. I promise myself I will go to bed earlier tomorrow (a promise that is sometimes fulfilled), or that I will start waking up at the same time every day to build a routine (another promise that is sometimes fulfilled), or that I will “just rest my eyes for five more minutes” (a promise I do not think I have ever fulfilled).

Once I am out of bed, I am usually fine, even great at times. The morning version of myself becomes this productive machine that the version of me at night could never dream of being. However, the journey from being horizontal on my bed to vertical with my feet planted on the carpet is rough every single time, and the morning version of me is not someone who appreciates when I am being told to do so forcefully.

The night version of me, on the other hand, is practically a different personality altogether. I thrive on stillness but in a softer, more reflective way. The night for me feels like taking a deep breath after a long run of day. Everything slows down, and the noise of the day stops pushing at me. I can think without interruption, which means a lot to me as someone who spends so much time juggling tasks, expectations, classes and responsibilities. That feeling of being quiet with myself is something I crave all the time.

The version of myself at night is someone who finally has space to hear my own thoughts. I am calmer and more creative with how I go about things, even the mundane tasks. When I start working around 7 or 8 p.m., I always almost fall into a flow state. Suddenly, I am working for hours without noticing the time passing. It is as if there is no external buzzing of noise demanding my attention. It feels like stolen time, like the world finally leaves me be long enough for me to breathe and think and create. It is peaceful in a way that morning productivity never is.

However, if I start too late in the night, around midnight or later, my ability to function drops dramatically. Every tiny task feels overwhelming. My open laptop remains unused, as I stare at it blankly, and decide that I need to reorganize my entire room instead. Sometimes I will get hungry, wander off for a snack and then forget what I was originally doing. The night version of myself becomes nostalgic at the wrong moments and motivated at even worse ones. I will think way too deeply about life at 2 a.m. and then be shocked the next morning when the morning version of me is left to clean up the consequences of grogginess throughout the day.

This brings me to the ongoing war between being a morning person or a night one. They genuinely do not get along. It is like having two incompatible roommates living in the same brain. One wants discipline and routine, while the other wants reflection and quiet.

For the longest time, I thought I needed to pick one. People love labelling themselves as a night owl or an early bird because it solidifies a sense of identity. However, the more I tried to commit to one lifestyle, the more I realized how unrealistic that is for me right now. As someone in their twenties, my life changes constantly. Some weeks, my responsibilities force me into early mornings. Other weeks, emotional overload pushes me into the comfort of late nights to get things done.

I have come to understand that both versions of me serve important roles. The morning version of myself is the part that keeps my life structured, keeps deadlines under control and keeps me feeling grounded. My time is used efficiently, and it sets the tone for the rest of the day. The night of myself, on the other hand, is the part that keeps me human. I do a lot of my processing, reflecting and creating in this time. It gives depth to the parts of life that the morning only wants to organize.

I am not saying either one is “better.” For me, both together somehow make me functional. Some days, I wake up early and feel proud of myself for being on top of my life. Other nights, I stay up late and finally understand things I have been avoiding all day. At all times, I am just navigating whichever version of me shows up, knowing that both sides have something important to offer.

Maybe I am not just a morning person or only a night person. I am someone who shifts and adapts, who needs different things on different days. This may change once I enter different chapters of my life where I need to choose a set routine. For now, as a student, what is more important is that I am learning to listen to myself and to what I need at any given moment.

Honestly, that is enough for now, and I can only hope that one day I can resolve this inner tug-a-war of what part of the day I belong to, and finally settle into the rhythm that feels most like the truest version of me.