A few weeks ago, I was gifted a LED light mask. For those unfamiliar, it’s one of those contraptions that promises the benefits of LED light therapy from the comfort of your own home. My particular model boasts a red light to fight the signs of ageing, a blue light to address acne-causing bacteria, and an amber light to boost circulation and oxygen levels to promote overall radiance.
If you’re reading this doubtfully, I don’t blame you. I had always approached many aspects of the beauty industry with so much scepticism, and this mask was no different. I knew that there were benefits to LED light therapy – I had received some in-salon treatments before my wedding in 2010, and had read research that demonstrated its efficacy – but I just didn’t think an at-home version that costs less than a degustation at a restaurant would do the job.
It never crossed my mind, however, that it could also perform an entirely different task.
I had always approached many aspects of the beauty industry with so much scepticism, and this mask was no different.
In a perfect world, self-care shouldn’t be a luxury. But finding time away from my demanding work-from-home job; a lecturing gig at a university; and the three children in my care is nothing short of a pipe dream. Plus, the concept of self-care has arguably been reduced to an elite influencer performance ritual. One that, for a long time, I felt like I have been shut out of. I've tried the influencer version (taking baths with fancy salts), but I’ve also tried the disparate-parent kind (sitting in the car, or telling the kids I was going to work but hiding in my wardrobe to get some peace). Someone always found me.
Remarkably, things changed with this mask. Putting it on seemed to block out the world and act as a physical manifestation of my unavailability. For the 15 minutes I used it, the literal and metaphorical silence I’d been searching for for years became a reality. My brain stopped obsessively thinking, I couldn’t see my phone screen clearly to fuel my sense of inadequacy via Instagram, and my children just assumed I couldn’t see or hear them and bothered their father instead.
It transported me to an alternate dimension, where it was the perfect meditation tool, with the added benefit of encouraging me to take self-care further. I started dedicating time to clear out spaces at home for the ritual, because the idea of ‘self-caring’ in a bathroom that needs cleaning or in a cluttered bedroom with an unmade bed doesn’t sit right with me.
It transported me to an alternate dimension, where it was the perfect meditation tool, with the added benefit of encouraging me to take self-care further.
I’ve also started lighting the slew of scented candles I have hoarded over the years (If you’re a she/her who has been gifted candles for every occasion since you stopped getting barbies, you’ll understand), so I am simultaneously ‘self-caring’, treating my skin AND decluttering!
To be clear, I don’t think you should have to spend a cent in order to de-stress. But I can’t as easily go for walks or work out at a gym, and given I once paid $80 for a year’s subscription to a very popular meditation app and only used it twice, I am willing to go with whatever works. And right now – during Sydney’s current lockdown – that’s my face mask, a Glasshouse ‘Movie Night’ candle that smells like popcorn and choc tops, and the knowledge that I’m learning a valuable lesson about beauty.
I always thought beauty was only skin deep – a shallow endeavour next to more noble things – but making time for a beauty ritual has forced me to slow down and helped me seek moments of peace in other aspects of my life.
You could say I have seen the ‘light’.
