How do I stop hitting snooze and actually get up?

You are not lazy. The page Put the reason across the room says you are asking a person who is still mostly asleep to make a decision against their own comfort, and that person usually loses. So move the decision out of the bed.

Put the alarm, and a reason, across the room. That page’s instruction in full: put the alarm where you have to stand to stop it, set it for the time you will actually get up, and put something you want on the far side of it, coffee ready to go, a book, the dog. Standing up is most of the battle. Four separate conversations there put the alarm across the room; four more use an alarm that will not stop until you have done a task in another room; and seven say what worked was having a reason waiting, because get up is a demand and get up, the coffee’s on is a plan. Two conversations add the honest failure: getting up once is not staying up, and people walk to the alarm and walk back. That is why the reason matters more than the alarm. The page carries an argument with no winner about the first ten seconds, ease in or shock yourself out, and names its own decider: if you fall back asleep you are on the shock side whether you like it or not; if you lie awake dreading the day, gentleness is what moves you.

Anchor the wake-up, not the bedtime. Anchor the wake-up, not the bedtime explains why the firm new bedtime never holds: bodies need different amounts of sleep, so a bedtime is a guess about a number you do not control. Set a wake-up time, keep it seven days a week, and let bedtime find itself. The active ingredient, relayed there from a sleep specialist, is thirty minutes of light in your eyes after the alarm; sitting motionless on the couch with your eyes open counts. Expect one to two hard weeks. The evidence for weekends included is someone’s accidental experiment: thirty straight days of eight o’clock wake-ups, then one reward morning of sleeping in, and they woke at half past eleven feeling terrible, the whole day wrecked.

Set an alarm you can afford to hate. Pick an alarm you can afford to hate is about the song you love and your thumb over the button that makes it your alarm. Eleven separate conversations there say the loved song stops being music and becomes the sound of being woken; nine say it never happened to theirs in years. The page renders that argument with no winner and does not need you to decide: use the phone’s own chime, rotate the song, use only the intro, or set a sound you already dislike and let the irritation get you up.

Who this is not for, in the pages’ own words. Anyone on rotating shifts, whom the first page names and does not help. Anyone who wakes at three and lies there, which is a sleep problem with its own page. Anyone who goes dizzy or grey when standing up quickly: sit on the edge of the bed first and mention it to a doctor, because no alarm trick is worth a fall. And anyone for whom this is not reluctance but something heavier; two accounts on the first page say a morning you cannot face can be depression or something physical underneath, and for them a doctor is the answer and the tricks can wait.