Your morning self needs a favor

Rewind to the first ten minutes of today. You woke up tired. Maybe you reached for your phone and took in whatever was on it. Then you lay there running the whole day in advance and finding it too big. By the time you sat up, the verdict was in. Most heavy days aren't built at noon. They're built before breakfast.

Morning you, half awake, has no bargaining power. It won't choose the walk or the shower first. It's running on empty, and handing it big decisions is bad planning. The version of you reading this can plan. You always knew where the next cigarette was coming from. It hogged your best planning. Tonight, spend some on yourself.

Set one anchor for the morning, decided now. Pour a glass of water and put it where your hand lands when you wake. It's small on purpose. You'd still drink it at your worst. Setting it up tonight costs almost nothing. You're removing one decision from the exact minute you're least equipped to make it.

Tomorrow opens differently. Maybe not brighter, but with something already settled. You'll reach over and find the glass waiting, poured by someone who was thinking about you. That someone was you, free, the night before. Before you sleep, hand God the morning. Lord, be there when I open my eyes. He never sleeps, so He'll be there first. You're going to bed already ahead of tomorrow.