When Getting Up Feels Impossible

When Getting Up Feels Impossible, Finding Purpose in Plants and Purrs 

Most mornings, my bed feels like quicksand. Without a job to rush to, the hours stretch ahead empty and daunting. The thoughts creep in: I should be job hunting, studying AI, advancing my healthcare knowledge   the endless mental list of "shoulds" that somehow makes the gravity of my mattress even stronger.

But then I hear it. The persistent meow outside my door.

My cat, my tiny furry alarm clock, doesn't care about my existential crisis or my career goals. He cares about one simple thing: his food bowl needs filling. And so, even on the hardest mornings, I find myself swinging my legs over the edge of the bed. One small movement, one small purpose.

While I'm up, there's another quiet responsibility waiting: my mango plant. It sits patiently by the window, requiring nothing more complex than water and light. I've developed this small ritual – turning on its grow light each morning, turning it off each night. It doesn't demand perfection or a five-year plan. It just needs these basic acts of care, these tiny anchors to the rhythm of day and night.

Some might say these are just distractions from the "real" work I should be doing – the job applications, the studying, the professional development. But I've come to see them differently. These small responsibilities are keeping me tethered to the world when my mind wants to drift away. They're teaching me something about purpose that I never expected to learn from a cat and a plant: that sometimes purpose isn't about grand achievements or clear paths forward. Sometimes it's just about being needed in the smallest of ways.

To anyone else struggling to find reason to get up in the morning, I want you to know this: it will pass. I say this not from a place of having it all figured out, but from a place of still struggling alongside you. And while I'm typically not one for physical contact or giving advice, if I could, I'd give you a hug. Because sometimes, even when we feel most alone, the simplest connections – be they to people, pets, or plants – are what keep us going.

For now, I'll keep getting up for my cat's breakfast and my plant's morning light. And maybe, in these small acts of caring for other living things, I'm also learning to care for myself, one morning at a time.