Facing up to life’s challenges – blue light for acne and finding joy in unexpected places

There comes a point in grief, where it becomes a burden, both to the person grieving and to the others around them. At some point, no matter how terrible you feel inside, putting a brave face on it and moving on is necessary, in order to get on with living.

As a life lesson, it’s a profound one, though it’s easy to feel guilt at finding things to enjoy about life, rather than wallowing in its unraveling trauma. What with my puppy’s death last week, and the other things that were already laying me low – stress at work, ongoing skin woes which have exacerbated of late, issues with the kids’ behaviour, and my own feelings of self-worth, battered by life stresses, tiredness, and the encroaching winter, it felt hard to find a bright spot.

But for all that, there have been some highlights. The first, a midweek jolly, took me to the Classic Rock Awards, a backslapping industry schmoozer held at the Camden Roundhouse, celebrating the final countdown of some ageing rock relics. I had thought it would be not my cup of tea – my preferred Wednesday night tipple – but in the event, I felt privileged to attend – as part of a team from my dad’s company, who were sponsoring the event, even though I also felt something of a charlatan, having not worked in the industry – once a reporter for Music Week – for many, many years. As I exchanged words with the likes of Noddy Holder, Alice Cooper, and the charming Brian May, it struck me again how fame and power operates like gravity, and within this environment, even those dwindling stars retained their twinkle.

The highlight was my selfie with the delightful Bill Odie, whose daughter was dragging him off the afterparty at Zingwalls in fine fettle, complete with leather jacket and revolution t-shirt – but then, I last saw him at a gig in the Astoria, back in around 2005 – somehow he’s managed to keep rocking long since I decided weeknights on the tiles weren’t a great idea.

But with so many reminders that my own autumn years are approaching, and feeling like life hasn’t always been too much fun – or garnered much recognition- in my own years of youth, I felt like it was high time I pulled myself up by my bootstraps and tried to enjoy those rare moments of revelry that sometimes feel so few and far between. After all, you only get one shot at life, unless multiverse theory holds true, that is.

Thursday was painful, but Tom, who’s been flipping between a short fuse and giving me a wide berth, made amends by heading home from his own industry event early the next day to help me through the bedtime hour, having spent the last month off the booze in a preemptive attempt to heal his long overburdened liver. I need to take a leaf out of his book and take some proactive steps against the sort of self destructive behaviour I tend to indulge in when I’m low, be it drinking too much too often, eating junk, or relentlessly picking my skin, none of which is ever a solution to anything.

Having a ray of hope, however, is what is takes to help you take steps to feeling better about yourself. With my skin worsening, and nothing I do seeming to help, I asked Tom to buy me a blue light unit, without holding out much hope. Unpacking the Lumie Clear Acne Treatment light from its box last night, and in a tired grump having cleaned up the remaining pug’s puke all over my new rug, and dealt with a tantrum cycling the kids back from their after-school carer, I actually grew upset about the amount of time needed to invest in it. Where was I going to find half an hour twice a day to sit in front of a bright light and fry my facial microcosm to within a micrometre of its life?

But the unit, which can be held over patches of skin while, say, reading with the kids, or having a cup of tea in the morning, actually seems to have worked a treat. My skin was calmer after one use. After two, old scars are healing, and new spots are drying up. After three, my face is looking clearer than it has in months. It’s not happened a moment too soon. Years of skin troubles has eaten away at my confidence; it’s contributed to me taking a back seat role at work, to averting my eyes in conversations, and losing my shit in the mornings. It has made me humble about the way I look, which, in any case is rapidly offering up new challenges, from greying or even sprouting hairs to boobs, whose painful monthly bloom is giving gravity a helping hand. Growing older gracefully is one thing. It’s quite another to feel like one major inconvenience is being superseded by myriad others.

So it is a little ray of light in one of the darkest weeks of my life, but it’s helped me face other challenges with better grace – the kids, whose behaviour has unravelled since their pet died, taking it out on me, indirectly, but with fewer resources to cope; my own behaviour has fallen short of everyone’s expectations. I’ve been clamped to my crack pipe – I mean my e-cig – like Kate Moss on the Thursday night Marlboros;using the word “fuck” like it’s an endangered species, and gorging on carbs because I can’t be bothered to make decent food for anyone. So if shining a light on my deepest anxieties and most superficial of troubles is what it takes to pull my finger out, and helps my face look less like the proverbial slapped arse it’s resembled since last Friday, into the bargain, then it’s worth its weight in gold.

 Update: January 3, 2016

All I really wanted for Christmas was nice skin, and this year I got it, thanks to the Lumie Clear treatment light. After 15 miserable years of acne, I can’t tell you how much this has changed my outlook for the New Year. I can’t recommend it enough, even though it is sometimes a pain to start the day with a bright light in my face (it kinda wakes me up a treat). And knowing I can prevent my kids suffering the same skin traumas – my son is already getting the odd blackhead at ten, swiftly zapped by my light unit – gives me a real sense of hope that, whatever problems I may face this year, they won’t, at least be on it.