My girlfriend bought me a blue therapy light for Christmas.
I did a bunch of research on blue lights to see if they do, in fact, help to alleviate depression. Now, I don’t actually have depression. Well, not in the clinical sense. Sure I cry each morning when I awake, but that’s because the weight of the world is squarely resting on my shoulders! You know, normal thoughts. The blue light was appealing as it could help me to feel better and isn’t a destructive high.
During my research I found that therapy lights are the number one prescribed remedy for seasonal affect at the Mayo Clinic. Well, I’m certainly not smarter than those eggheads. So, now I wake up every morning and while I’m eating my cereal I am bathed in blue light like I’m playing a sax solo set at a jazz bar.
Then I pack up the sonofabitch and take it to work. It’s only a little bit bigger than my fist. I get to work about fifteen minutes before the other employees and turn it on again. At home I usually fire it up once more before bed when I’m writing.
Does this thing really work? Who the hell knows? But I do believe there’s something about sunlight that is energizing. The blue light is supposed to do the same thing direct sunlight does through the skin.
When I’m on the subway platform, even in single digit weather, if possible, I stare directly into the sun. With my eyes closed. I’m not a sociopath. There’s something that feels so nourishing to me to get even a few minutes of sunlight. I probably look like a weirdo staring into the sun with my eyes closed when it’s winter. Also I have a dog on my back in a pack. It’s a strange sight.
Tonight I started to think about why I don’t do other things that are good for me like some regular cardiovascular exercise. How I can get up every morning and bike ten miles to work, but when it’s too cold I can’t get to the gym. I know we’re imperfect people but the science is clear if I do a bit of cardio each day I’d have some great stuff pumping through my body – you know, neurotransmitters. The real drugs. I wouldn’t probably need the damned blue light.
I know eating ice cream is pleasurable and quick and easy. But getting an hour workout in is so much better. I believe the quality of my life can be summed up in the ability to make decisions that provide me the biggest benefit. I know some people like to say it’s about giving, but screw those martyrs. Nobody likes a show-off.
So, the question isn’t, “How do I become perfect?” The question also isn’t, “How do I get myself to the gym?” The question actually is, “Why am I choosing not to give this gift to myself?” That’s where the magic is.
When I ask this question I’m overcome with sadness about how mean I am to myself. The feeling passes second later, but I am aware that often I don’t think I’m deserving of good feelings. That stops me from the gym. It’s all behind my consciousness, but I think that’s what is happening.
Getting conscious about what’s going on with me is my work in 2013. That and less farting.
Now, if you will excuse me there’s a little bit of Breyer’s Moose Tracks left in the carton and it’s calling my name. I’ll use my blue light to even it out.
