I Survived an Hour in A Sensory-Deprivation Float Tank

I have two friends who are always ready for an adventure. Through the years, we’ve eaten funky foods and tried things like cryo therapy, where you hop around in a -100 F tank in your underwear, a hat, slippers, and mittens, followed by a weird ass heat therapy where you wear a garbage bag-like outfit and swelter in a 100-degree F pod. (Both miserable, BTW.) There have also been oxygen bars (pleasant), various facial needlings (pinchy), a foot massage at a place I swear was a front for prostitution (yikes), and a bamboo massage that had me wincing (ouch)

Recently, we tried floatation therapy, and DING! DING! We have a winner. (Well, kind of. Two of us liked it. One of us did not, but I will go with the majority and call floating a win.)

If you’re unfamiliar with flotation therapy, it is a relaxation technique where you lay naked on top of 11 inches of water in a dark pod. A bathing suit is optional, but they recommend that you float without it since clothing is a distracting stimulus. The water is infused with 1,000 pounds of Epsom salt, which provides buoyancy and creates a zero-gravity, womb-like environment along with relief from your own body weight, for which, I imagine, my body was grateful.

The idea behind floating is to remove all the stimulus we are bombarded with - the annoying husband, the gossipy acquaintances, the constant rush, rush, rushing - and replace it with an environment that will help you enter a meditative state.

Before floating, we watched a video that explained the benefits of flotation therapy and gave us the info we needed to have a successful session: Shower before you get in, cover wounds with petroleum jelly, use a provided neck ring if you’d like additional support for your head and, most importantly, AND I CANNOT STRESS THIS ENOUGH, use the spray bottle of fresh water to spritz your face if you accidentally splash yourself with the salty tub water.

For the actual floating, we each had our own room that contained our float pod, a shower, bench, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, towels, washcloths, petroleum jelly, earplugs, and that wonderful spray bottle of fresh water. 

The pod was very easy to get into and out of. My first thought after getting in the water wasn’t, “Relaxing here is going to be great!” It was more along the lines of “Gee, I wonder how sanitary this thing is?” Not to obsess about the potential grossness, but how many other people had been in it before me with their hair, skin particles, and bodily fluids? I asked at the front desk after my float session because there is nothing like gathering important information after the fact. I was told the water is super clean since salt has sterilizing properties. It is also triple-filtered and sterilized with hydrogen peroxide and ultraviolet light between sessions. 

I shoved my fluorescent orange waxy earplugs in my ears, laid down ON the water, and that’s when the shit show started. A piece of hair immediately floated on my forehead, and when I went to move it, I splashed Epsom salt water all over my face, and Holy Shit Batman! I thought I was going to die, it burned so bad! (Slight exaggeration.)

I had salty water in my eyes, up my nose, and in my mouth. There was flailing as I groped around in the dark, trying to find that damn spray bottle of fresh water. I knocked it into the tub, groped around until I found it, and then doused my face with hundreds of spritzes. Even after all the spritzing and wiping with a towel, my eyes still burned and my mouth had a HORRIBLE aftertaste. At that point, I considered giving up because I don’t like to deal with massive amounts of discomfort if I can help it, but I managed to life coach myself into powering through. I was there to relax, and I was going to relax, damn it!

Back inside the tub, I stuck a foam ring behind my head and leaned back. The water felt especially silky, and I noticed that every time I tried to lift a limb above the water, my balance would go to shit, and I’d awkwardly slip onto my side. That meant water on the face. More flailing. More spritzing and more wiping. Still, I was starting to feel relaxed and liberated. Being naked in an extra large, dark bathtub pod thing and living my best mermaid life wasn’t that bad.

Speaking of dark boy, was it dark in there. There is normal dark, and then there is crypt-keeper floating pod dark. I can’t remember the last time I was in such intense darkness. Initially, it felt suffocating since I couldn’t sense any spatial boundaries beyond the tub's edges. The silence made the space feel especially hollow and empty, and the water’s gentle slosh sounded like the loudest thing on Earth. I wondered if that was what it was like to be in a floating coffin. Then I became acutely aware of the passing of time and panicked because I was laying in the dark by myself in a giant, salt-infused dark as f*ck giant bathtub while the world outside was moving on without me.

My brain wrangled with that for a few minutes: What are you trying to do, float tank? TEST ME?! God, girl, get a grip! That point is to shut out the world!

I laid back down and bopped around for a bit, fidgeting with the neck ring, which I eventually discarded, and arm positioning. After a few minutes, I was incredibly bored and had no idea what to do with myself.

Although some people doze off immediately in a float pod, I wasn’t tired, so I went through my to-do list, used my arms and legs to propel myself around the tub like a pool toy, and tried unsuccessfully to spin in circles. It wasn’t until I was three seconds away from giving myself a breast exam to pass the time that it occurred to me that I’d have to try to relax to get anything out of the experience.

So I closed my eyes and worked to find pleasure in doing nothing. The only way to happiness is to live in the moment, right? Eventually, reason won out, my brain shut down, and I nailed it. I remained still and let the darkness swallow me, mentally high-fiving myself for chilling so damn well when I’d expected all that nothingness to drive me out of my mind. I ended up floating my cares away and having the most relaxing 40 minutes I’ve had in, well, months.

I fell into that twilight between being awake and asleep and woke when my neck cracked loudly on its own, instantly releasing the tension I had been carrying in my neck and shoulders for weeks. By that point, the hour was up, and it was time to get out.

As I waited for the shower to warm, the water on my body evaporated, and I was mildly disturbed to find myself covered in a crust of salt, which was kind of weird. It washed off easily, and underneath, my skin was soft and smooth, and so was my typically nasty, dried-out, flyaway, craptrocious hair. I’m so loving that.

So, what’s my opinion on float therapy after a disastrous start but a successful finish?

According to the video we watched pre-float, floating helps lower your blood pressure and slows your heart rate, triggering special brain waves that relieve fatigue, release endorphins, counter anxiety, and help you handle stress.

I will admit I thought that was sales-pitch bullshit, but there are decades worth of research to support flotation therapy benefits for people with generalized anxiety disorder, like me. Afterward, I felt lighter, happier, and pretty f*cking great.

There’s a certain relationship I think we have, you and I. It’s the kind of relationship where I can tell you things, and maybe we agree, or maybe we don’t. But the thing is, it’s honest. As much as it can be on a blog post where I do all the talking. So, if you know me, you know I’m honest about my anxiety and how I typically manage my stress with exercise, whining in a blog post, a once-a-month Zoom call with my therapist, and droning on to friends, who remain remarkably calm when I bitch about the same stupid shit. I am also being completely honest when I say floating was a little bit of heaven - Heaven… a place I thought I would never get to - and I would love to add regular floating to my repertoire of stress relief - THAT’S how much I enjoyed it.

If you’re local and would like to give it a try, here’s a link to the True REST Float Spa. Bonus: You might be able to find a deal on Groupon.

This is your little room with your float pod, a shower and any other necessities. The room was very clean and well stocked.

A close-up of the pod with the doors open after I was finished floating.

You look kind of…dead…when you’re floating. Don’t let that light fool you. It eventually goes out and you’re in complete darkness.