In my 20s, I lived life like sleep was optional. I worked three jobs, somehow still managed to go out with friends afterward, and thought nothing of dancing until the lights came on and the music finally shut off. Sleep? That was a suggestion, not a requirement. Four hours—or sometimes less—was just fine, as long as I had an energy drink (or three) in hand the next morning. I wore exhaustion like a badge of honor, convinced that “living life to the fullest” meant filling every waking moment with something from hiking to dancing.

And honestly, I loved it at the time. The excitement, the noise, the people—there was always something happening. The girl I was back then could run on fumes, pull a double shift, and still be talked into a night out. Looking back now, I’m not sure if that was resilience or just pure caffeine and stubbornness. Probably both.

Fast forward to my 40s, and things couldn’t look more different. These days, I’m in bed by 8:30 or 9, face washed, pajamas on, book or kindle in hand. By the time my 20-year-old self would’ve been just starting her night, I’m already drifting off to sleep—and honestly, I wouldn’t trade it.

Do I miss the endless energy of those days? Sure, sometimes. But I’ve traded it in for something else: a slower pace, and more room for the things that matter. I may not bounce out of bed feeling “refreshed,” but I’m at least functional. And more importantly, I get the gift of quiet mornings. There’s something magical about waking up early on a Saturday, pouring a cup of coffee, and watching the world slowly brighten. Those little pockets of peace matter so much more now than the craziness in my 20’s ever did.

Of course, my shift hasn’t gone unnoticed. Recently, even my parents poked fun at me for going to bed so early. Imagine that—your mom and dad becoming the “night owls” while you’re tucked in like a happy toddler. But the truth is, I’ll happily take the joke if it means I get to enjoy the calm, unhurried rhythm of my mornings.

Maybe that’s the real beauty of boring: realizing that what once seemed dull is actually where the good stuff lives. The peace, the comfort, the little rituals that make you feel steady in a world that’s always rushing.

So yes, I used to stay out until dawn, and now I sometimes fall asleep before my kid finishes a movie. But you know what? At this stage in life, boring isn’t just beautiful—it’s bliss. Besides, let’s be honest—I couldn’t survive three jobs, no sleep, and a dance floor now even if I wanted to.