I have never been convinced that "morning people" exist, much less imagined that I could be one myself, and I know I'm not alone. Waking up is hard! If it weren't, why would there be so many expensive and whimsical gadgets designed to get you over the hump?
There's the , the , the , the , a clock . But here is the good news: You need exactly none of these to practice the Objectively Superlative Method of Getting Up in the Morning™.
Sure, you could try a regular bedtime and unwinding before bed, but that's not going to happen. So let's consider the mechanical solution, one that is simple in theory: You and your alarm clock need to be separated by a considerable distance so that turning off your alarm clock requires getting out of bed.
Lots of people try this one to get themselves out of bed. But it stinks. You can place your phone or alarm clock on the dresser or the far side of the room, but this is ineffective and obnoxious to boot. To be within earshot, your alarm must be reasonably close to the bed. Worse yet, waking up and immediately lurching out of bed (or enduring even a few seconds of klaxon alarm) is unnecessarily unpleasant, especially for your bedmate, should you have one.
The solution: Have two alarms, and have your phone function as both.
The first alarm is the one in your phone's standard clock app, set for whatever time you choose and configured to wake you as pleasantly as is practical. The second is a location-conditional alarm clock tied to a disarmament trigger as far away as you can manage. I use and , there's also . This second alarm should be set for two or three minutes after the first and carefully engineered to be as foul as possible—literally painful if you can manage—from the very second it goes off. The trick, of course, is that this alarm will
never go off.
Every morning, as my phone gently vibrates, I come to the same two conclusions: That the world has not (yet) ended, and that the world will be hell if my phone begins to shriek with earsplitting volume, which it will do in three minutes and counting. The NFC tag required to disarm my phone currently lives on the far side of my one-bedroom apartment, but at various times has been stuck under the counter in the kitchen, or even been placed outside. On the way, crucially, is some manner of caffeine.
This method does have its flaws. It's not always effective. Sometimes I do go back to bed. But no reasonable system can guarantee you stay awake. At best, it can force you to formally acknowledge your weakness of character.
This system is also subject to user error. An unpleasant and inevitable mistake is to set the alarm times in the wrong order. My method is also (probably) possible to thwart. Turning your phone all the way off is a way to defeat the app without getting up. It may be possible to disable the app. I suppose you could also put your thumb over the speak... you know what? The key is to never really think about these things, because then you've already lost.
In my years of using this method, I have yet to particularly enjoy waking up in the morning, but I have discovered the morning is conquerable. I've learned through experience that the snooze's siren call is fleeting. I've come to relish the 15, 20, 45 minutes I'd otherwise miss. It's not a transformation so much as a begrudging fondness for a system carefully engineered to pit me against myself for my own benefit. Perhaps you can grow begrudgingly fond of it as well.