3 Questions at Sunrise that Created my New Life

It’s a strange comfort, isn’t it? Living in a time where you can speak your thoughts out loud – messy, meandering, unfiltered – and have them typed out for you in seconds. No more scribbling on napkins or searching for pens that don’t work. You just speak, and there it is. Your truth, staring back at you in black and white.

So here’s my latest scribbling – fresh from this morning as I was rising from a good night’s sleep!

Being released by someone who once loved you… it sounds like a punishment. But maybe, just maybe, it’s a gift in disguise. Because when they finally let go of you, it gives you permission to do the same. To stop holding on so tight. To stop living in someone else’s shadow of what could’ve been.

It’s a chance to find yourself again. To love yourself again. To make peace – maybe even repent, if that’s the word – for the things you did along the way. Not out of shame, but out of understanding. Out of growth.

This morning, I stayed in bed too long. I didn’t want to move. I stared at the ceiling and asked the question: Why get up? What’s the bloody point?

And then it came to me – this thought, this this idea. The fact that I could share this with someone. Or no one. But that I could speak it out loud and let it breathe.

Now, the idea that got me out of bed were three simple, yet significant questions.

What makes me happy?
What would keep me going?
What’s the thing that’ll finally make me want to get up and get on with it?

And the answer? Surprisingly, it came from something I’d seen the night before – what’s now less “doom-scrolling” and more “fate-scrolling.” Specifically, Instagram reels. You know the type – short, engaging, filled with insights into your own internal chaos.

I’ve been watching (okay, hovering over) posts that ask the kind of questions designed to mess with your head a bit – but in a good way.

Instagram Type 1. What if you were going to die in the next 12 to 18 months? How would that change what you do today?

Instagram Type 2: What if someone handed you half a million dollars – tomorrow, or in a year and a half? What would you do differently?

The scary thing is, those two questions are framed exactly the same way – but they evoke wildly different reactions. And the algorithm knows. It sees where you linger, where you pause, what makes your thumb hesitate mid-scroll. It learns you, just enough to show you your own reflection in the mirror of everyone else’s curated truth.

So yeah, what got me up this morning wasn’t motivation. It wasn’t clarity. It was those questions. Their weight. Their challenge. Their unexpected timing.

Anyone of us could die within the next 18 months. And not in some dramatic, Hollywood-tragic kind of way. Just… life. A misstep. A random car accident. A wrong moment. The kind of fate that doesn’t care whether your laundry’s folded or your dreams are half-baked. We don’t talk about that enough. How we put off living because we think we’ve got forever.

Then comes the flip-side of the fantasy: what if I’d won the $30 million Lotto over the weekend? Highly unlikely, but hey – someone does. So naturally, I asked the question we all ask: What would I do with that kind of money?

Turns out, not much different to what I’ve already been planning. I’d build the home I’ve been dreaming of for months now – a simple space. Wet zones down one end – bathroom, kitchen, laundry – and the rest, open. One corner with a curtain for the bed, a workspace wrapping around the edges, windows that welcome in the view, sliding doors that lead to a deck. On that deck? A pizza oven, an outdoor prep bench, and an art zone. Nothing massive. Nothing flash. Just practical beauty. And maybe, in time, versions of it in different corners of the world. Small footprints. Big intention. A life where I give more than I take. Help kids. Improve housing. Support opportunity.

But here’s where it turned.

I remembered something. In about 18 months, we’re selling the family home. And if it all goes to plan, I’ll walk away with sufficient to build that house and have change.

So instead of waiting for a lotto win that might never come, I’ve decided to act like I’ve already won. To treat that sell-price as my prize. My launchpad. My yes, now go.

That’s what got me out of bed.

I stripped the sheets. I took a shower. And now – I’m on with my day. Happier, smiling, realising that it ain’t all bad, that life is going to get better. I am getting better.