Waking Up with a Racing Mind

Some mornings, I wake up and my head is already sprinting. 

Not with clarity, not with inspiration — just loud, messy thoughts crashing over each other. Honestly, it feels like my brain got a head start and left the rest of me behind.

For years, mornings like this ruined me. I’d toss and turn, grab my phone, scroll until my eyes hurt, swear under my breath, hate myself for being awake before dawn. By the time the sun came up, I already felt defeated.

Now I do something different. Not because I figured out some magic fix but because the old way was slowlly breaking me.

1. I sit on the edge of the bed for five minutes. 

I set the timer because otherwise I’ll bail. Sometimes I breathe. Sometimes I mutter a thank you that feels more like a question than a prayer. Sometimes I just stare at the wall, pissed off that I’m awake this early, but also a little relieved to be able to take the time to just… PAUSE.

2. Then I crack the door and step outside.

Doesn’t matter if it’s raining, if it’s freezing, if I’m still in yesterday’s hoodie. The air hits my face and the light hits my eyes, and something in me remembers I’m still part of this world. The loop in my head doesn’t stop, but it softens for a second.

3. I move my body.

Shoulders rolling, arms stretching, swaying like I’m rocking myself back into place.  For me: It’s just a reminder that I have a body and I’m still here.

4. And then I write.

I dump everything out — the nonsense, the fears, the prayers I’m half-embarrassed to admit. Scribbles that won’t win any awards but keep me from drowning in my own damn mind.

The Do’s and Don'ts that Work for me:

Over time, I’ve learned what actually helps on mornings like this — and what just makes it worse.

Do: 

• Sit for a few minutes, but don’t force it to be peaceful.

• Step outside, even if it’s just one breath of fresh air.

• Move — even if it’s barely a stretch or a sway.

• Write down whatever’s running through your head. It doesn’t need to make sense.

Don’t: 

• Force yourself into silence you’re not ready for. (It only makes the noise louder.)

• Stay in bed hoping the racing thoughts will magically disappear.

• Pretend it’s fine when your whole system is buzzing.

"These aren’t rules. They’re the little anchors that keep me from spiraling when my brain takes off without me."

Does it fix me? No.

Do the racing thoughts disappear? Hell no.

But I’m not stuck under them the same way. I’ve given myself somewhere to land.

Messy mornings like this used to feel like failure. Before, I’d crawl back under the covers, shut out the world, pretend the day hadn’t already swallowed me whole.

Now I meet them differently. Not as something to escape, but as part of living. Part of being human. 

 And maybe that’s what the Inner Peace Club is here for too — to remind us we don’t have to clean up our mess to belong. We just have to show up, exactly as we are.

I’ve left a light on for you. 

—Shannan