Fibromyalgia Took My Sleep. Then My Sundays. I Wasn't Ready to Give It the Rest of My Life.
My neck, back, and hips were deciding how I spent my days—and whether I slept at night. Then I found research on red light therapy that made me reconsider an approach I'd barely understood.
By Sarah
Updated September 2026
I missed the candles.
My granddaughter was turning six. I'd bought the purple wrapping paper she liked, written her card, and promised my daughter I would stay for the cake.
But when everyone started gathering around the kitchen table, I was in the bathroom.
One hand on the counter. The other pressed into my lower back.
Trying to decide whether sitting down would feel worse than standing there.
"Mum? We're doing the candles."
"Coming."
I heard the singing start through the door.
By the time I came out, she was licking icing off a candle. My daughter had already taken the photograph.
Everyone was in it except me.
That evening, I looked at the picture on my phone for longer than I want to admit.
I had been there. I'd made the effort. And somehow, I had still missed it.
First I Planned Around the Pain. Then Everyone Else Did.
I'm Sarah. I'm 55, and I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia seven years ago.
Some days, my body feels covered in bruises nobody can see. My neck aches. My back burns. My hips make me reconsider a chair before I sit in it.
But the part that wore me down was how much thinking an ordinary day required.
Could I manage the grocery store and cook dinner?
Some evenings, the vegetables stayed in the fridge. I ate cereal and left the bowl in the sink.
Where could I sit if we went out?
Would I have enough left in me for the drive home?
I started arriving late so I wouldn't have to stay as long. Leaving early so nobody would see me struggling. Saying "maybe." Eventually, my daughter stopped asking what time I was coming.
She asked how I was feeling.
She meant it kindly. Of course she did.
I missed being someone whose attendance was assumed.
And Then There Were the Nights.
At 3:14 in the morning, the smallest things become enormous.
The seam under your shoulder. The pillow that was comfortable ten minutes ago. The ache in your hip when you turn over.
Left side. Adjust the pillow.
Right side. Move it again.
Onto my back. Watch the clock.
My husband could be asleep inches away while I lay there trying to find one position my body would accept.
I was exhausted. I wanted sleep so badly it made me angry.
Then morning would come, and I'd sit on the edge of the bed, working out how much of yesterday I was still carrying.
The advice to get more rest sounded simple.
Rest was the very thing I was struggling to get.
My Nightstand Looked Like I Was Trying. I Was.
There were creams beside the lamp. A heat wrap folded underneath. Bottles in the drawer, with the instructions still tucked into their boxes.
I'd bought things after reading reviews at midnight. Compared ingredients. Saved videos. Made little promises to myself about being consistent.
A little money here. Another order there. Over the years, that drawer had become an expensive collection of things I once looked forward to arriving.
Some things gave me moments of comfort. Some were awkward to use. Some quietly joined the collection of purchases I stopped talking about.
I kept working with my clinician on treatment. But I was still looking for something practical I could do at home.
The difficulty was that every new purchase came with the same uncomfortable thought:
Am I considering this because it makes sense—or because I want it to work so badly?
I didn't want another promise I couldn't evaluate.
I wanted a reason.
The Explanation That Changed What I Was Looking For.
During one of those late-night searches, I went back to information from the National Institutes of Health.
I wanted to understand why pain could follow me from one part of my body to another, even when I was trying to rest.
NIH's arthritis and musculoskeletal institute describes research finding:
"evidence of altered signaling in neural pathways that transmit and receive pain in people with fibromyalgia."
— NIAMS: FibromyalgiaThat helped me understand why this could feel so different from having one sore muscle after doing too much. Scientists are still working to understand the condition's causes. Changes in pain processing are part of the picture.
I had been measuring my effort against how I felt, as though trying harder should necessarily make me feel better.
That was a miserable way to judge myself.
What I needed was a more useful question: What options have actually been studied—and which could fit into my life?
Red Light? That Was My Reaction Too.
The term I kept encountering was photobiomodulation.
I had to read it twice.
It refers to using particular wavelengths of light to influence biological processes. Researchers study how red and near-infrared light interact with cells, including processes involved in cellular energy and signaling.
The reason for investigating it goes beyond how warm a device feels. There is a biological question being tested: can those interactions produce useful changes in symptoms?
For me, the important question was more specific.
Had anyone studied it in people with fibromyalgia?
They had.
Forty-Two Participants. A Placebo Comparison. Four Weeks.
Published clinical trial
A randomized, triple-blinded trial compared whole-body photobiomodulation with a placebo treatment in people with fibromyalgia. Participants received 12 sessions over four weeks, lying down for 20 minutes per session. The researchers reported improvements in pain and quality of life.
The equipment was a whole-body clinical light bed, using 660 nm red and 850 nm near-infrared light.
Those were outcomes I cared about far more than whether a device looked impressive.
But I now had a concrete reason to investigate the category and discuss it with my clinician.
Then I ran into the next question.
How would I actually use something like this at home?
I Needed Something I Could Use on the Evenings I Had Very Little Left.
I could imagine buying a device enthusiastically, then discovering it was awkward to position or tiring to hold.
I already knew how that story ended. There was a drawer full of evidence.
So I wrote down four questions:
- What wavelengths does it use?
- What output information does the manufacturer provide?
- How much of the area I want to expose does it cover?
- Can I comfortably use it without holding it throughout the session?
That last question mattered more than I would have understood a few years earlier.
On a difficult evening, simplicity determines whether something feels manageable at all.
That's How I Found the Apollo Red Light Mat.
Apollo combined the features I was looking for in a flexible mat.
- Wavelengths: 660 nm red + 850 nm near-infrared
- Irradiance: reported third-party 146 mW/cm² at contact
- Size: 36.2 × 15.7 in — neck-to-hips coverage in position
- Use: lying down, hands-free, typical 10–20 min sessions
It lists 660 nm red light and 850 nm near-infrared light, with a reported third-party irradiance measurement of 146 mW/cm² at contact.
The mat measures 36.2 by 15.7 inches, with neck-to-hips coverage in its intended position.
That made it relevant to the neck, back, and hip areas I kept thinking about. Its actual light-emitting surface matters; it does not expose every painful part of the body simultaneously.
And I could use it lying down, hands free, during a short session while awake. Apollo describes typical sessions of 10–20 minutes, following its instructions.
I could picture the practical part: put it in position, connect the controller, choose the instructed settings, and settle down with something to read.
No holding a small device behind my back for the whole session.
No turning it into the main event of the evening.
For once, I could see how the product would fit into the life I actually had.
I Ordered It. Then I Wondered Whether I'd Done It Again.
Another hopeful purchase.
Another box arriving at the door.
Another thing my husband would eventually ask about, gently, because he knew how much I'd wanted it to help.
I sat at the kitchen table with the order page open.
I checked what came with it. Read through the return terms. Went back to the product photographs.
The research had given me a reason to look into red light therapy. Apollo's format made it easier to picture actually using it.
And the included protocol mattered to me.
I didn't want to buy a device and spend the next three evenings searching for someone to explain what to do with it.
Eventually, I placed the order.
Then I put my phone down.
I wasn't ready to announce that I'd found something wonderful.
I had decided to try it.
When It Arrived, I Read the Protocol Before Switching It On.
I opened the box on the bed.
Took out the mat. The controller. The power cable.
Then I opened the Personalized Recovery Protocol I'd received and read it alongside the product instructions.
Before I started, I wanted to understand the setup, the settings, and how to follow the recommended sessions.
I know myself. If something feels confusing on a difficult evening, "I'll work it out tomorrow" can become a very long time.
So I got everything ready while I had the patience for it.
That evening, after dinner, I went upstairs.
My book was beside the bed. My phone was within reach. I positioned the mat as instructed, settled down, and started the session.
For Once, I Could Put the Instructions Down.
I wasn't holding a device behind my shoulder.
I wasn't trying to keep something balanced against my back.
Once it was set up, I could lie there, awake, with my book while the session ran.
When it finished, I put everything away.
The next time, I followed the protocol again.
There was no new setup to figure out. I already knew what to do.
That answered one of the questions I'd had before ordering.
The bigger question was what would change in the hours I wasn't lying on it.
The First Change Was So Ordinary, I Almost Missed It.
I was sitting beside my husband after dinner.
He was telling me about something that had happened that afternoon. Normally, part of me would have been listening while another part worked out whether to move the cushion, change position, or get up.
This time, I asked him a question.
Then another.
We finished the conversation.
It was only when he stood up to make tea that I noticed: my back hadn't been the centre of my attention.
I had been thinking about him.
After so long measuring evenings by how uncomfortable I felt, that ordinary conversation felt enormous.
Then There Was a Morning I Didn't Start Already Exhausted.
I opened my eyes and saw daylight.
For a moment, I stayed still.
My shoulders felt comfortable against the pillow. I wasn't immediately searching for a position my hips would tolerate.
I looked at the clock, then at my husband.
"You're awake," he said.
"I know."
But what I meant was: I slept.
Downstairs, I made coffee and opened the curtains.
I had spent so many mornings negotiating with my body before the day could begin. That morning, I found myself thinking about what I wanted to do.
There were still difficult days. I still needed to respect my limits.
But the better mornings gave me something I had missed badly.
A little room to make plans.
One Evening, the Vegetables Didn't Stay in the Fridge.
I came home from the grocery store and put the bags on the counter.
Then I washed the vegetables.
Chopped them.
Put a pan on the stove.
My husband came into the kitchen and asked what smelled good.
"Dinner."
I smiled when I said it.
Because I knew what that one word meant.
I had gone shopping. Come home. And still had enough energy to make something I wanted to eat.
We sat at the table together.
The cereal stayed in the cupboard.
Later, when I thought about that evening, I remembered the food and the conversation. I could remember what we had talked about.
There was space in my attention for something besides getting through the next hour.
My Daughter Asked Whether I Was Coming on Sunday.
I read the message.
Usually, I would have started composing a careful answer.
Something hopeful enough to show I wanted to come, with enough room to cancel if I needed to.
This time, I typed:
"What time? Shall I bring something?"
Then I went upstairs and chose what to wear.
I put on the earrings I used to reach for without thinking.
And I realised I was looking forward to the afternoon.
When the Cake Came Out, I Was Already at the Table.
My granddaughter was beside me, explaining why her piece needed the most icing.
I listened to the entire argument.
When my daughter lifted her phone, I didn't have to hurry back from another room.
"Everyone squeeze in."
My granddaughter caught my hand.
"Closer, Gran."
So I leaned towards her.
The photograph isn't perfect. Someone is moving. My husband has his eyes half closed. I'm looking at my granddaughter instead of the camera.
But I'm there.
Later, there was tea. Another story. Someone asking whether I wanted to stay a little longer.
And I did.
That Was the Change I Had Been Trying to Explain.
More comfortable evenings meant I could pay attention to the people beside me.
More restful nights meant I had something left for the following morning.
More usable energy meant groceries could become dinner, and an invitation could become an afternoon I enjoyed.
Those changes reached into the parts of life that had quietly become smaller.
My marriage.
My confidence.
My place at the family table.
I had missed being involved without having to explain myself.
I had missed making a plan and feeling pleased about it.
Most of all, I had missed the woman who could get caught up in a conversation, laugh, and forget to check the time.
When my daughter sent me that photograph, I opened it straight away.
There she was.
What I'd Want You to Know Before You Order.
If you've bought things hopefully before, I understand why you'd have questions.
You deserve clear answers about the product, what comes with it, and what happens if it isn't right for you.
First, here are three comments from Apollo's website that speak to ordinary life:
"My back and hips used to ache by evening. Now this is just my wind-down routine and I wake up so much looser."
"It's not complicated, which is why I actually stick with it."
"I've stopped planning my life around pain."
Your Questions, Answered.
-
"Why this mat?"
The combination mattered to me: specified 660 nm red and 850 nm near-infrared wavelengths, neck-to-hips coverage, and a format I could use lying down without holding a device throughout the session.
-
"How much time does it take?"
Apollo describes typical sessions of 10–20 minutes. Follow the supplied instructions and protocol, and stay awake during use. The setup should be something you understand before you begin.
-
"Is there a subscription?"
The mat is a one-time purchase. A subscription isn't required to use it, and the Personalized Recovery Protocol is included. See product details.
Here's the Complete Apollo Offer.
Apollo Red Light Mat: $199.99
Listed regular price: $399.99 — currently 50% off.
The current bundle includes:
- Apollo Red Light Mat, controller, and power cable.
- Personalized Recovery Protocol — guidance for your sessions.
- Recovery Cream, included at no extra charge.
- Free shipping.
- Five-year limited warranty.
For me, the appeal of the protocol was straightforward: having guidance to follow when the mat arrived.
And having the complete price in front of me made the decision easier to weigh.
Your Purchase Includes a 90-Day Money-Back Guarantee.
Apollo offers a 90-day money-back guarantee on eligible purchases. Use the product as instructed. If it isn't right for you, contact Apollo within 90 days of delivery to request a return. Support reviews the request and authorizes eligible returns; customers cover return shipping.
That protection deserves to be part of your decision alongside the product itself.
Take the Next Step.
You know the ordinary moments you want more of.
An evening at the table. A Sunday you look forward to. Being there when someone lifts the camera.
Keep those moments in mind as you consider what belongs in your life.
50% off · Free protocol, cream, and shipping.
CHECK APOLLO AVAILABILITY
I honestly didn't expect to use this every night, but now it's part of my routine. I sit back on the sofa, turn it on for 20 minutes, and just relax.
My upper back and shoulders used to feel so tight by the end of the day, and mornings were always slow for me. After a few weeks with ApolloThera, I feel looser, less guarded, and I'm moving easier when I get up.
It's not complicated, which is why I actually stick with it. No appointments, no pills, no trying to hold some little device in the right spot. I just lean back and let it do its thing ❤️
Wish I had found this sooner.
Skeptical at first — my drawer is full of gadgets I gave up on. This one's simple enough that I actually use it.
Thought red light therapy was BS until I tried it. I have arthritis in my hips and knees, and mornings used to be rough. After a few weeks with ApolloThera, my hips feel freer, my knees feel calmer, and I'm moving easier when I get up. I didn't expect it to work… but it did 😅
I tried at least 20 products who promised to fix fibro, this is the only one that actually did something, I'm finally living like a normal person again.
