Ugg boots. Owls. And lunar waves.

"We've missed you."

"Where you been?"

"Sunday classes are too early."

"8am too early?"

"Yeah. I'm up late. Went to bed at 3am."

"Well, that's on you then, isn't it!"

I’m taking off my Ugg boots in the reception area of my yoga studio. Reconnecting with some yogis I've not seen in a while. I'm wondering how they are. They're wondering where I've been.

I feel judged. The need to explain.

To justify. For not fitting in.

I know that's not what was intended. They genuinely want me to be part of their regular practice. These people, who became my family through 15 months of choosing not to do but be. Not achieve but breathe. Not work but live.

They miss me. So do I.

But life changed. As have I. In all the ways. More and less of myself than I ever have been. Retraining. Unlearning.

It's not the flow of life that led me here. Rather, the expectations of the 9-5 working world.

How to conform. Where to contain. How high to jump. Which hoops to perfect and perform. Like a clapping monkey in a hamster wheel, with a timetable tied to a treadmill.

The modern work structure was designed in 1926. By men. For men. And factories. Based on male hormonal patterns and biorhythms that peak at 9am. One size. One rhythm. One gender. That no longer fits all.

A century of conditioning that women continue to come up against. Constantly compared to. As we cut and contort ourselves into gender binary cookie shapes. Not to be mistaken and misunderstood.

Again.

Research reveals women operate on 28-day infradian rhythms – 4 distinct phases of creativity, energy, and focus. Men's testosterone peaks predictably at 9am. Daily. Women’s cycles, monthly. Within a productivity culture demanding we perform linear consistency. In bodies designed for waves.

Momentum suddenly mattered to me. I became curious. Allowing space for my innate rhythm to naturally flow. My creativity always felt caged. Waiting for permission to pulsate and propel. Not placate and punctuate.

Learning new ways to work. On my own, from home, outside of hour blocks and contractual controls, I reframed 'doing' and 'achieving.' Questioning what productivity and performance now meant to me.

Made easier, when a wise friend suggested measuring days not by what I do, but what I create.

I saw in neon what I've hidden for years. Believing I got wrong. Judged by a hustle culture of 8pm bedtimes and 4am juicing and gym classes, which never felt or fit right. For me.

So what does?

I am most fully alive when the majority of the world isn't. Need less sleep than most. And free to create, not conform awakens endless energy and infinite ideas.

Research shows 30% of humans are night owls. Our prefrontal cortex peaks after midnight. And creativity flows when the world shuts up, down and off. When the systemic static and chatter of the crowd quietens and calms.

I'm one of them. An ambiverted nocturnal owl. Who's finally found her natural rhythm, unforced form and flourishing flow.

I'm lunar, not a lunatic. I like early mornings and late nights. I come alive when I'm not supposed to.

50 years in a 20-word sentence.

It’s not pretty. I’m not proud.

But it’s real. And I’m the proof.

H2BH 025/365