Morning Self and the Storyteller

On the importance of managing our different selves

I edge into the beginning of my days very carefully, like someone in a movie trying to demonstrate calm in a hostage situation. Look, I’m putting my gun down here. Look, you can see my hands. I’m moving slowly. I’m talking softly. See? Eeeeverything’s okay, buddy. We’re all friends here.

Because I’m anxious and an insomniac, mornings have always been hard for me. First thing in the morning I’m like a baby animal: whimpering, puffy and afraid.

My before-bed self, on the other hand, is all over it. That chick has her shit together. She’s got the coffee machine programmed for the morning, she’s put the robe and the socks near the bed for her bleary-eyed morning counterpart. 

See, Morning Self has to be carefully managed. Especially because she has a very important job.

My life has evolved so that Morning Self is on duty when I write. She has to be, because her shift coincides with literally the only time in the day I can devote to writing. 

This brings me to the chair, a key component in mana…