By now, everyone knows blue light at night is bad for you.

Of course, we still all bask in it, but Psychiatric Times has an amazing interview between editor Chris Aiken, MD and Kellie L. Newsome, PMH-NP.

It’s a short read, but full of solid research on blue light’s effect on bipolar disorder and unipolar depressive disorder.

It all has to do with the circadian rhythm.

The effect can be both causal and reinforcing, so much to the extent that Newsome says our biological clock is “so integral to bipolar disorder that you could almost rename it fragile circadian rhythm disorder.”

Read the interview for all the studies, but here are a few takeaways.

First, say no to blue light at night. If you don’t believe me, read the article. It’s more persuasive than my sentence.

Second, say no to ambient lighting when you sleep. In other words, sleep in the dark-dark.

Ambient lighting (as cool as it is) suppresses melatonin while we sleep, and in animal studies, Aiken says it “causes depression, impedes learning and has detrimental effects on the brain. It lowers BDNF and shortens the dendritic spines that are essential for learning and cognition.”

I have a big-time family history of dementia and you might, as well.

So besides learning another language or learning how to dance or using something like BrainHQ (which I use), maybe add shutting off that cool ambient lighting and managing blue light exposure to your Dementia-War list.

Third, if you’ve got a little one, this sentence blew me away:

 “When mice are exposed to nocturnal dim light as infants, they grow up to have more anxiety as adults.” 

Of course there might be very good reasons to have night lights for them (SAFETY, so don’t ditch it just because of the mouse study), but it just goes to show how profound lighting can affect our mood.

There’s a lot more interesting stuff in the interview, and thankfully, there’s a transcript which I always find helpful.

[Painting: The Tragedy, Picasso, from his blue period. Tried to make it relevant, plus it’s amazing]

That’s the advice of Dr. Joseph Harper in a wonderful new Washington Post piece, urging men to get help for their mental health problems.

Harper writes of a tragic and familiar phenomenon: “too many men ignore their depression, phobias, or other mental health issues.”

What’s the root cause?

Fear. Embarrassment. Guys want to be Clint Eastwood or Rick from Casablanca. They don’t walk into a therapist’s office right? That’s not in a Fistful of Dollars.

Or maybe smoke and disintegrate like Rick.

I understand. Cynicism is romantic, in its own way. Wasting away in regret.

Disappearing into a room, shutting everyone out, and looking over the bridge in your mind, with a Scotch by your side.

It’s manly, right? Well, men do it. But it’s certainly not strong.

Harper writes:

“I have watched mothers and wives literally drag the men they love into my office. I often struggle with some male patients to pull information about their emotional issues out of them because they are so reluctant to speak. Others simply downplay their problems saying things like, “It’s not really a big deal,” or “My wife is blowing this out of proportion.” Then there are the men who are simply embarrassed and ask, “Nobody will ever know I was here, right?”

Too many men think they are supposed to be strong or macho all the time — even when in pain. For many, it would be unimaginable, intolerable for anyone to know they were battling anxiety, depression, or were bogged down by their emotions.”

The most troubling statistic is that while men might think they’re mentally stronger, the suicide rate for men is much higher than women. Particularly, middle-aged men.

So either we’re a lot more anxious than women, or we’re just not getting the help women are.

Maybe that makes us strong? We need help, but we don’t get it. How’s that strong?

I’ve known so many men who flirt with acknowledging mental health problems, but quickly backtrack as if it suddenly registers in their heads that they might be labeled “scared” or “less than a man.”

It’s the playground, all over again.

I don’t like the phrase “toxic masculinity,” but this is one toxic form of masculinity that lives in many of us. And I’m including myself.

I still don’t like telling people I’m anxious. I’d much prefer “depressed.”

Anxiety implies fear, running away, and boys are taught on the playground that running away is cowardly. That never leaves us, even as men.

But running away from our problems is the cowardly thing.

And guys, we’re not kidding anyone when we fake strength.

If you think you’re hiding your mental health struggles, your family and friends already know. It always comes out.

The Wall Street Journal wrote a few years ago that anxiety often looks different in men from women — it looks like anger, physical tension, substance abuse. Of course it can take other forms — panic attacks, phobias, the whole thing.

But your spouse and close friends already know. You already know. It’s time to let someone who can help know.

Thankfully, more men are starting to share their battles with anxiety.

Here’s a link to some: Stephen Colbert (crippling at times), Big Sean, Ryan Reynolds, Carson Daly, Michael Phelps.

One song that’s meant a lot to me is The National’s “I’m afraid of everyone.” The song isn’t about social anxiety, but instead, dread — the dreadful and alluring desire to flee. Which almost always stems from overwhelming anxiety.

Now Christian men are particularly worried about sharing our anxiety, because we think it might reveal ourselves as faithless, and then (gasp), what will become of our reputation as Christian men?

But that reveals just one thing — We’ve made an idol of a façade. Exactly what Jesus warned about.

We need to grow up. We need to grow up and abandon our fantasy that we’re super-men or super-Christians, impervious to medical conditions.

Jesus himself broke down from mental agony. And he did so, in front of his friends, in Gethsemane.

He didn’t try to hide his distress from them. In fact, he asked if they could stay with him during it. When you think about it, that’s just unbelievable humility. Unbelievable strength.

So please, don’t do what I did for so long, and what I still struggle with — hiding. That’s what we’re doing. Hiding. Running away and hiding.

And that’s supposed to be strong?

Here’s a link to a therapist, or psychiatrist, or support center near you. It’s uncomfortable, but anything worth anything always is.

Lately, I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night with my “heart racing.” (Oh, that famous symptom of everything. A symptom for all seasons).

It’s happened throughout my life, but usually only after nightmares. But recently, it’s come in the absence of dreams.

Of course, my anxiety immediately thought HEART ATTACK! or even something more benign like sleep apnea, which can provoke similar experiences.

But for me, and possibly you, Occam’s Razor always leads me back to anxiety.

So I wondered: Can anxiety do this?

And since anxiety is a bit like Shohei Ohtani, why yes of course it can.

If you’re going through a particularly anxious time, it’s quite normal to wake up, breathless and panicking, in the absence of frightening dreams.

Medical News Today has a helpful write-up on nighttime anxiety:

Nighttime anxiety is not a special class of anxiety. People become anxious at night for the same reasons they do during the day. However, the following factors may make anxiety more noticeable at night:

• Fewer distractions at night mean a person is more likely to think about the things that make them anxious.
• Consuming caffeine during the day can make a person jittery and anxious and less able to sleep during the night.
• Nightmares.
• Fear about the coming day.
• Anxiety about insomnia, particularly if a person worries about the effects of their sleep deprivation the next day.
• Health anxiety, since people might notice aches and pains more when they are falling asleep.

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Now….if you’re waking up, gasping for air, check with your doctor because Healthline notes that there could be explanations other than anxiety: postnasal drip, hypnagogic jerk, obstructive sleep apnea, pulmonary edema, acid reflux, heart failure, and anxiety.

The good thing is that anxiety is the least physically destructive (in the short term) of those conditions.

The bad news is that your anxiety will probably make you worry about heart failure or edema when you wake up, gasping.

So definitely get it checked out with a doctor.

But waking up breathless from anxiety is definitely a thing.

And of course, for many of us, our anxiety escalates at night.

If only because it reminds us of the coming day, or the day that has just left. Or all the things the day obscured and that we can no longer ignore.

Some of us pray and it helps. Some of us read our favorite verses and it helps. Some of us pop a sleeping pill and it helps. I’ve done all three.

Suffering at night is its unique kind of hell.

King David frequently wrote of wasting away on his bed, at night.

Jesus endured Gethsemane at night.

When you’re a teenager or in college, staying up into the wee hours is often a sign of a good time.

But when you’re a little older, it’s a restless unease, or else an 8 hour rumination on how trapped you feel in life: “How did I go through what I just did yesterday, and how can I handle what I’m supposed to do, tomorrow?”

The way forward is holistic.

Talk to your doctor about something for anxiety or sleep, talk to a therapist, talk to Jesus, and somewhere in all that talking, I hope the voices at night will quiet, and you can sleep again.

[Painting: Winter Night in the Mountains, Sohlberg (1914)]