Day 4

Day 4: The Morning Freud Lost, Adler Won, and AI Called Me Out

This morning I woke up at 4 a.m.—which sounds heroic, until you realize I didn’t choose it. My brain decided sleep was overrated and launched the “let’s worry about reels and blog posts and everything you’re behind on” playlist. At 4 a.m. No coffee, no cozy wake-up—just panic brain.

The irony? I’m not actually behind. If I zoom out, I can see I’ve done a ridiculous amount in the last week. I built an entire blog (do you know how many rabbit holes are involved in that?), launched a new series, and stretched myself in ways that honestly deserve at least a gold star. And yet… my first thought was, “You’re late.” Apparently my inner critic runs on its own time zone.

Old me would’ve grabbed that 4 a.m. wake-up as a hall pass. “You’re tired. Take the morning off.” That version of grace used to feel really good. Lately, I’m rethinking what grace actually means.

Enter Freud versus Adler

Freud—the guy everyone quotes—was basically obsessed with the past. His whole thing was, “Tell me about your childhood, and I’ll tell you why you hate Mondays.” Which, sure, explains a lot, but it also traps you in analysis forever. Adler, meanwhile, shows up like the rebellious sibling: “Cool story, but what’s your goal?” Less skeleton-hunting, more direction-finding.

I first hit this in The Courage to Be Disliked. The authors unpack Adler’s idea that life isn’t about what happened before; it’s about the purpose you assign to where you are right now. Freud might say, “You can’t help it—X wound made you this way.” Adler says, “You’re using that story to justify today’s choices—so what if you wrote a different one?”

One tiny question, whole new direction. Instead of digging into why I feel behind (Freudian rabbit hole), it points me toward what’s next (Adler’s lane). That little reframe keeps me from scrapping the morning and sliding into old patterns.

By 7 a.m., my brain was already pulling its favorite trick: skip the rhythm I’ve built and sprint straight into creative. Forget Pilates, forget breakfast—just finish content. Because apparently I have two speeds: STATUE or USAIN BOLT.

Middle gear? Never heard of her.

I thought starting from zero would make balance easier. Once I got moving, surely rhythm would stick. Turns out—nope. My brain still prefers extremes. Either I’m a statue or I’m Usain Bolt… with more coffee and less muscle definition.

So today became another experiment in pacing. Not pushing into hustle just to prove I can. Not hiding under the “be gentle with yourself” blanket either. Just this awkward, clunky attempt to live in between. To keep the rhythm even when my brain screams to skip it.

And maybe that’s the real work. Not the reels or the blog or the to-do list. It’s learning how to move at a pace I can actually live with. If I don’t, I’ll keep swinging between burnout and stall-out forever.

Yes, I woke up at 4 a.m. feeling behind. But tonight I can see it differently: I caught myself. I didn’t fall into the old pattern. And maybe part of that is the AI nudge in my back pocket—reminding me being the main character isn’t about perfection; it’s about direction. Today, that 1% forward was enough.