I’m bathing in light at this moment—a warm 10,000-lux dunking. The flood of lumens is emitting from a narrow vertical panel about two feet from my desk, angled so it washes over my face but doesn’t blind me from typing. I’m going to continue this light splash every day this winter. It’s going to make me happy.
That’s the premise, at least. Perhaps I should say it will make me less sad, since this dose of radiance is intended to counter my seasonal affective disorder (SAD), a condition that affects an estimated 10 million people who, in the diminished winter light, can feel as though they are diminished themselves.
Before I get into some scientific views on the therapeutics of sitting narrow-eyed to the side of your personal spotlight, let’s look at the circumstances that led me here. I’ve had mild to moderate depressive episodes since adolescence. I can best describe the feeling as a dull smothering, a numbness, a withdrawal from the world — a world that feels pointless.
When I’m cloaked in this state of depression, I can’t be roused by much of anything; it’s my version of hibernation.
My lamp is close enough to reach out and hug it, but I’m not in that good of a mood yet.
What I experience is greatly different from clinical depression, which can prompt near-catatonia in some sufferers, including organized thoughts of self-harm, which often require complicated medical intervention. For me, it’s usually a few days of psychic weight and bleakness, and then it lifts, though not often as a result of any discernible event or pattern. In effect, the albatross around my neck is suddenly cut from its tether.
Because I’ve felt that sinking “cloud shading the sun” feeling every winter, when a friend suggested I try using a light therapy box, I checked them out and borrowed one.
Psychology Today describes SAD as a “recurrent major depressive disorder,” suggesting that it’s something more strangling than how I’ve described my state, which might more accurately be called “winter blues.” Some of the suggested symptoms — feelings of sadness, difficulty concentrating, drops in energy — are familiar, but during an episode or not, I always have that stated craving for sweet or starchy foods. Which I’m not all that sad about.
My 30-minute sessions with the Happy Light, even after a couple weeks, still feel odd. I typically do them in the morning, after coffee, which might not be recommended, since the Mayo Clinic states that besides eyestrain and headache, I might experience “mania, euphoria, hyperactivity, or agitation associated with bipolar disorder.”
I follow the guidelines by Verilux, the light’s manufacturer: 10,000 lux for 30 minutes is recommended, though the company says you can play with varying durations and distances. My lamp is close enough to reach out and hug it, but I’m not in that good of a mood yet. Other respected light therapy box manufacturers include Alaskan Northern Light Therapy, Circadian Optics, Carex, and more, but I haven’t researched their differences.
Verilux states that sunlight on a bright day can reach 100,000 lux, so the Happy Light supplies more of a maintenance dose of serotonin, the so-called happiness hormone, the production of which is triggered by bright light. Even if the light box is only a tenth of a bright day’s dosage, that is presumably enough for the benefit.
I’m mildly stunned afterward, like waking up from a dream, and the potent glow makes my eyes tired. The Mayo folks suggest you discuss the use of the light box with your doctor, which I should have, but being a self-medicator of some standing, I’m winging it. I’m doing my regular work — mostly writing — while I’m using it, so I’m focusing on that while the lamp focuses on me.
Full-spectrum light therapy has been used since the early 1990s as a treatment for mood disorders, as well as for conditions like acne and psoriasis. These days, cannabis growers even use variants of full-spectrum LED lights to encourage their lovelies to flower, giving another meaning to “happy lights.”
The mild depression I’ve felt at various times of year always intensifies in the dark months, so much so that by October’s end, I’m feeling the stir of dread.
Norman Rosenthal, the psychiatrist who first advocated the use of light therapy after pioneering research on SAD in the mid-1980s, states on his website that his initial discoveries were met with a great deal of skepticism in the medical community. His work has broad acceptance now, but not everyone is convinced.
A 2016 study cited in the Clinical Psychological Journal surveyed 34,000 adults over the course of a year who screened positive for depressive symptoms connected with seasonal change. The study noted each participant’s latitude (noting the darker winters in the northern regions), relative hours of sunlight, and related factors and found no connection between reduced light and depression. Another study focused on the severely shortened daylight hours in Norwegian winters and the lack of increased incidence of depression rates there.
While it may not occur en masse, for many, including for me, seasonal blues are real. The mild depression I’ve felt at various times of year always intensifies in the dark months, so much so that by October’s end, I’m feeling the stir of dread, practicing a confirmation bias of my own.
But applying some of the contemporary regimens of self-therapy seems to help. I’ve been a morning meditator for a few years, and that calming pause gives me some grounding. I’ve been a regular exerciser for many more years, and an outdoor walk often provides that little bit of boost to keep me going. And heck, I live in Santa Cruz County, so just the general grooviness in the air must apply to my burgeoning bliss-ninnyness, right? (Counterpoint: I also like a good Manhattan — mixologist therapy is another approach.)
It’s been only a few weeks with my Happy Light, so my jury of excitable photons is still out. I haven’t had a full depressive episode (good), but my baseline hasn’t felt much different (not as good). Winston Churchill’s “black dog” has had his nose in my door a few times, but he hasn’t climbed on the bed.
Right now, it’s challenging to tell if the light has brought me light. A friend is in hospice and close to dying, and that’s heavy on my mind. Two other couples I’m close with are having serious issues, and things don’t bode well for one couple in particular. And the four-month anniversary of my sweet kitty Malibu’s disappearance just passed.
So, I’m low on several counts. And then there is winter. Even in mild Santa Cruz County, winter has its darkness. But, as mentioned, I haven’t felt overwhelmed, just sad, and sad with reason, which can be quite different than the blanket of depression, which often comes without prompting.
The light indeed may be helping, so I’ll keep my face in the artificial sunshine for a while longer.
Cautionary addendum
All lightheartedness and light boxes aside, depression is a serious matter. If you or someone you know is considering suicide, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 800-273-8255.
