Apparently, I’ve Been Sleeping Wrong My Entire Life

They say I’m sleeping wrong. I say maybe it’s time to stop letting everyone else define “right.”

Some mornings you just have to laugh at all the ‘rules’ and pour another cup.

It’s five a.m. and I’m wide awake — not from worry, but from irritation.
If one more person tells me how to “sleep better,” I might throw my phone.
Every corner of the internet has become a megaphone for advice, and I’m just not having it.

Take this “how to get the best sleep” thing. Every expert with a ring light says my habits are all wrong. Blue light! Bad! TV in bed! Bad! Waking up at 3 a.m.! Bad!

Well, here’s the thing, Sherlock — I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night long before I ever had a glowing rectangle in my hand. It’s called giving birth to two children and winding up with a bladder that retired in the 1980s. That’s not blue light; that’s biology.

And yes, I fall asleep with the TV on. I like having someone talking to me in the background. It’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s my version of a bedtime story. If that means a little blue light hits my face — so what? I’m not looking for a grade on my sleep hygiene. I’m looking for peace.

I’ve been in bed the past 24 hours nursing the world’s worst allergy attack, so maybe I’m cranky. But even on Substack, I’m seeing the same split:
the overwriters who drown me in adjectives until my eyes glaze over, and the fixers who pound their chests and say, This is the way, this is the truth, this is the method.

I don’t want Monirose Soul to ever become that.

I want it to stay what it is — a wild, tender, messy corner of the internet where women can breathe.

Where we can explore, question, laugh, cry, unlearn, and discover. Where we can remember that there is no single right way to be a woman in this world — only your way.

Because that’s the heart of it, isn’t it?
This obsession with right and wrong, better and worse — it’s the very thing that keeps us from hearing our own damn souls.

What’s right for me might be wrong for you. What’s wrong for me might be exactly what saves you.

So maybe the invitation isn’t to “do it right.”
Maybe it’s to love ourselves in the wholeness of who we already are — tired, messy, curious, human — without the guilt, without the comparison, without the endless corrections.

And maybe that’s what this space is really about —
not advice, but permission.
Permission to trust your own rhythm, your own voice, your own holy mess.

I love learning new things. I love listening to others. But not at the expense of the one voice that’s been there all along: my own.

And if you’re reading this in bed at 5 a.m. with the TV humming in the background — you’re doing just fine.

If that kind of truth-telling feels like home to you, stick around. That’s what Moni Rose Soul is built on.

If this stirred something in you — even a flicker — come closer.
That’s what the Moni Rose Circle is for.
It’s where women like us gather to remember that we’re not done yet — not by a long shot.
We share stories, courage, and those little sparks that turn into course corrections.

You can absolutely choose again.
You can rediscover the woman you haven’t yet dared to imagine.
And you don’t have to do it alone.