GoKawiilI knew things were not quite right when I had to throw a towel over a broken Ikea lamp to block out its light. How did I get here? I cover fancy and capable tech for a living, and yet, it took me two years to get rid of a pair of old, broken Ikea lamps in my bedroom. Then I got some floor lamps from Govee that changed everything.
Those Ikea lamps were around for two years after I moved from Orange County to Los Angeles. Soon after that move, my mom’s Parkinson’s disease — a neurodegenerative condition with no cure — progressed quickly, my mental health took a hit, and most of my own to-do list quietly slid to the back burner as she lost mobility and more urgent things took over. So the big, ugly lamps just… stayed. They became part of the background, like everything else I wasn’t taking care of.
I didn’t even have them plugged into a smart plug — another small upgrade I kept meaning to add to my bedroom, despite having them all over the apartment — which meant I had to get up every time I wanted to turn one on.
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One blasted harsh, overpoweringly bright light through a cracked shade. The other was warmer — but not warm enough — so I solved that problem one exhausted night by just throwing a towel over it. Yes, a fire hazard. Yes, I meant it as a temporary fix for a few days. But scattered caregiving brain means temporary fixes can turn into long-term solutions. At some point, it stopped feeling temporary and just became my new normal, even if it clearly wasn’t.
Then my brother bought my mom and me two separate Govee Uplighter Floor Lamps for Christmas, and my Ikea lamp troubles were over. I did not expect to develop an emotional attachment to a lamp. But I did, and now it’s one of my favorite gadgets.
The Govee was quick and easy to assemble, and much slimmer, taking up way less space than the old lamps. As I got rid of the old and set up the new, I felt an odd sense of relief and a small sense of control I hadn’t felt since the move.
Within a week, the old lamp was out of my room. That small shift gave me momentum. I started decluttering other corners that had quietly piled up, things I’d been stepping around for months without really seeing anymore.
The bedroom stopped feeling like an unfinished project I was merely surviving, and started feeling steadier. Calmer. Like a place I could finally exhale in. My days often feel structured around what my mom needs and what has to get done next. I don’t really think about my own space at all, except as something else I haven’t gotten to yet. Having a room that felt calm, even a little bit, made it easier to wind down at the end of the day instead of carrying that feeling of being “on” all the time into the night. It brought me back to myself, even if only a little.
I could relax in a way I hadn’t in a while, without feeling like I should be getting up to do something else. I could dim the lamp from my phone instead of standing up. I could shift from cool to warm without needing a towel and risking starting a fire. There’s a ripple effect that slowly moves across the wall and, for reasons I can’t fully explain, genuinely helps me fall asleep. Cycling through soft colors in the app and syncing it with ambient music is soothing. Sometimes, the changing colors feel a little bit like magic, and I find myself watching them the way I might have as a kid, reminded — briefly — that life can be more playful than it’s felt in a while. The warm, shifting light seems to have a similar effect on my mom, who lives with me, sometimes comforting and even dazzling her as she navigates some of the more difficult parts of the disease, like sundowning, along with her own quiet grief of losing pieces of herself.
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