When 5am was for cartoons

Recently, I had a thought. Well, one of many. But this one felt different. It unlocked a memory: waking up at 5am as a kid. Not for school. Not because I had to. But during weekends, during holidays, just to watch cartoons.

Back then, it was effortless. I would open my eyes before the sun, quietly step into the living room, and press the TV button like I was entering a secret world. Everyone else was asleep. The house was silent. And yet, I was wide awake and excited.

There was something so special about those early cartoons. They never aired during the day. It felt exclusive, like I had access to something rare. Like I was part of a VIP club no one else knew about.

Those mornings felt magical. The closest feeling I can compare it to now is watching a sunset: still, quiet, almost unreal.

And it made me think: what happened to that girl? The one who kept promises to herself so effortlessly. The one who didn’t negotiate with her alarm clock. The one who woke up because she wanted to.

Somewhere along the way, things shifted. Now, waking up early feels like going to war. Promises to myself feel optional, fragile, easy to break. Meanwhile, promises to others feel sacred, non-negotiable. We stay up all night talking to someone we love. We show up. We adapt. We try. But when it comes to ourselves? We postpone. We compromise. We let it slide.

It’s strange how easy it is to be devoted to others, especially when we’re hyper-aware, self-conscious, wanting to be enough (chosen, loved). And yet, giving that same level of care to ourselves feels… harder, almost undeserved, like we don’t owe ourselves the same loyalty.

Now, the alarm rings. I hit snooze, once, twice and in that half-asleep state, I’m already negotiating with myself. Maybe I don’t treat myself like someone worth showing up for, or maybe it started when doing things stopped being about joy and started being about performance. We wake up not because we want to, but because we’re supposed to. To follow the same rituals as everyone else. The miracle mornings we’ve been sold, the early pilates sessions, the perfectly whisked matcha, green enough to be posted. It all looks right, it all looks disciplined, it all looks like we’re doing life correctly. But somehow, it stopped feeling like living and started feeling like rehearsing. And I can’t help but wonder what happened to cartoons playing in the background, to doing nothing without needing to justify it?

Then, at night, it hits differently. The guilt, the quiet disappointment, the feeling that you failed something small but important. It seemed so simple in your head, almost effortless: just wake up, just get up, and yet, it wasn’t.

You tell yourself you’ll do better tomorrow, that tomorrow will be different. You mean it, every time. But morning comes, and it’s the same negotiation all over again. The same weight, the same resistance you can’t quite explain. Slowly, it stops being about the alarm. It becomes a pattern, a quiet losing battle with your own mind. You start to question your will, your discipline, your worth. And the more it repeats, the easier it is to turn it against yourself, until the smallest promises begin to feel heavy, and breaking them feels like proof of something you’re afraid to name.

And I keep thinking about that little girl waking up at 5am. She didn’t need discipline. She had desire, maybe that’s what changed. Because it’s not really about waking up early or walking 10,000 steps a day, or keeping every resolution perfectly. It’s about remembering how it feels to want something for yourself and to honor that; to treat your own promises as if they matter, because they do.

At the end of the day, you are the only person who truly lives your life from the inside. The only one who knows what you carry, what you want, what feels right and what doesn’t. Other people can love you, support you, even guide you, but they don’t wake up in your body, with your thoughts. So keeping a promise to yourself isn’t optional. It’s the starting point. It’s the most honest form of self-respect.

Maybe the goal is just to return to that version of you who showed up excitedly, before the world even woke up, just to keep a promise.