Sensory deprivation float tanks have always intrigued me. When I say “always,” I mean for the past year or two because I only just discovered they were a thing. For my birthday last year, my sister gifted me a float tank session at Samana Float Center and I finally experienced it last weekend. And let me tell you, it was an experience.
How does a float tank work?
Of course, I didn’t know what to expect so I researched floating before I went to the float center. Floating in a float tank with Epsom salt means you’re lying on your back, floating in massively saturated water.
The difference between just your regular ol’ floating and a float tank session is that you’re in a cabin or pod while floating in about 11 inches of body-temperature water, with the option for no lights and no sounds—complete sensory deprivation.
What a float tank is supposed to help with
This is what intrigued me about float tanks. I wanted to see if floating would help me with Depression, Anxiety, and Migraine because supposedly it does. I’m always thinking to myself how badly I want to just sleep for two and a half days straight or I just want some extended rest or a break from reality. To get away from it all, frankly.
I figured this was a great temporary solution for that.
How I prepared for a float tank
I didn’t do much preparation for the float tank. When I researched how to prepare (1 hour before my session), some tips offered were: don’t have caffeine beforehand, eat 30 minutes beforehand, don’t drink too much water, and think of a question you’d want to meditate on.
No caffeine
The no caffeine thing was easy since I mostly avoid it because it makes me dizzy.
Eat 2 hours before
I ate a couple of hours before the session. I treated it like I would a workout. I wanted to be satiated, but not deal with my digestion while I’m trying to relax. If I was going to use the toilet, I’d want it to be way before lying in water.
Cut back on water
I decided to cut back a little on my water intake because I pee every hour or so. I didn’t want that to distract me either.
Don’t shave or wax right before
Because you’re floating in saltwater, if you have any nicks from shaving, this could end up burning when the salt gets in.
Pick a meditation question
I wish I would have looked up ways to prepare for a float tank earlier to discover the meditation suggestion. If you’re into meditating, I highly recommend thinking of something you want to meditate on. Or if there’s something bothering you that you want to work out, this is a great place to do it.
Since I couldn’t come up with something to meditate on, I opted to take in the whole experience and see how it went for my first time. I tried to have zero expectations, especially after reading that people can hallucinate, some fall into a trance or flow-state, some fully relax, and that it helps with a host of things (anxiety, depression, headaches, ADD, ADHD, etc.)
What to expect in a float tank
Like I said, I didn’t know what to expect in the float tank as far as how I’d react. I knew the basics of what happens when you get there:
- If it’s your first time, you’ll likely get a walk-through and they’ll explain what to expect.
- Go to the bathroom before. Not all places have a toilet in the same room as the float tank.
- Get butt nekkid.
- Shower before you get in the tank to rinse off oils and creams.
- Shove earplugs in to prevent saltwater from entering your ears.
- Music will play for 5-10 minutes as you enter the cabin or pod.
- Shut the door to the tank once you’re inside.
- They may give you a head/neck floaty to (likely) help your neck muscles relax.
- Slowly lie back and let the buoyancy of the water help you float.
- Turn off the lights and ambient music if you want.
- Pick a position that’s comfortable.
- Float for 60-90 minutes.
- Music plays for the last 5 minutes of your session.
- Get out of the cabin or pod and close the door behind you.
- Shower again and get dressed.
That’s generally what happens during the whole float tank experience. Now that we’ve covered the typical stuff, here’s my actual experience while I was not-so-much chilling in the float tank.
My experience in the float tank
The calm dude who worked at Samana took me upstairs to my little room. The mini hallway with the shower at the end and the float tank to the left was about 15 feet by 6 feet. I chose the tank with the higher ceilings (“cabin”) in case it felt a little too constricted. I’m not particularly claustrophobic, but I also didn’t want to find that out my first time in a float tank.
I got naked and showered. My hair stayed tied in a bun because I didn’t want to feel it touching me while floating. It’s a weird sensation to feel your hair tickle parts of your body as you float, and this was supposed to be a deprivation of all sensations. Bending my neck to the left, I shoved the earplugs in. Then again on the right side. I grabbed the head and neck floaty, which looked like a big, thin donut.
There was a black smudge at the bottom of the tank I wiped away. Leaning back slowly, my feet instantly floated to the top of the 11-inch high water. It made getting the rest of my body back and floating entertaining since I was very unbalanced. I had my arms in a goal post position, which felt most comfortable. Then I let my legs spread open.
There were two knobs to my right—one controlled the lights in the tank and the other controlled the sound. I turned off the sound immediately and floated there for a few minutes (just guessing because what’s time in a float tank?) before turning off the lights.
When I turned them off, I could still see some of the light from the shower area. It was a little strange they’d say it was pitch black when really it wasn’t. I closed my eyes. I knew I was still tensing up, or, at least, I knew I wasn’t fully relaxed. My neck muscles contracted.
I pushed my head down into the water a little to signal to my body that I was fine and I was floating. Throughout the whole float, I felt my neck muscles contracting, which inevitably lead to the Migraine headache afterward. You know when you try to shake off some tension? I tried jiggling my legs and arms a little to release the tension. That didn’t work either.
Thoughts fled through my mind—too fast to keep up with them. I started getting upset about my headaches because my head was killing me at this point. I kept thinking how much I hated having headaches every day. I tried to cry. I couldn’t. At one point, I asked myself, “What should I think about next?” As if like magic, it stopped them. Thoughts revved up again like an old engine, of course. My brain won’t stay silent for long.
If I go back, I’ll come with a question to meditate on for 90 minutes instead of letting 1,000 thoughts run through my brain. At one point, I finally started to relax, but my leg twitched me back to anxiousness. This happened twice in the session.
When I realized I was in the pitch back as I opened my eyes, I thought I was about to have a panic attack. My heart rate sped up and my chest got a little tight. Reminding myself I was safe, I was simply floating in a tank and the lights were just off. I wasn’t in any danger. There was no reason to freak out. I fumbled around, feeling for the knob, and turned on the blue lights.
Because time wasn’t really a thing in the tank, I’m not sure how long I floated in the dark. Every so often, I’d bump up against the wall, and I’d gently push myself away. Too hard a push and I’d end up against the other side of the tank. Later, I’d learn it takes time to know how to stay centered in the tank.
Another reason I couldn’t relax was that I thought I wouldn’t hear the piano song to let me know it was over. I figured I wouldn’t hear it because I fell asleep or because I’m hard of hearing and then the guy would have to come to get me naked in the tank.
I kept imaging the scenario: I’m laying there, naked, spread eagle, tits, belly, and crotch splayed out for the world to see. The piano music plays and I can’t hear it. The guy patiently waits 10 minutes. 15 minutes. Then knocks on the outermost door. I don’t hear that either. To do his due diligence to make sure I didn’t die in their tank, he enters the hallway. The door to the tank is closed. He knocks on that and I still can’t hear him. He opens the door to make sure I’m still breathing and there I am, laying there, eyes closed, still trying to “relax.” I finally open my eyes because I feel a presence and there he is, waving at me to get out.
Luckily, that didn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it. My body wouldn’t allow it. Toward the end (which I assumed was only 45 minutes into the session), I started to get bored. A few minutes after thinking, “Well, now I’m getting bored, what should I think about now?” a piano cover of “Where is My Mind” played. It was obvious that this was the music alerting me my session was over and to GTFO.
As I washed my body off, I kept thinking about time and how it’s all just made up. The only way I know of time is by the sun or a clock. In that tank, I couldn’t tell if 5 minutes or 50 minutes had passed. So, while I didn’t have some out-of-body experience and my headache got worse, it was unlike any experience I’ve had.
Maybe for others, it’ll actually help you with Depression, Anxiety, Migraine, ADD, ADHD, etc. I’m willing to try it again knowing now how it all works. It’d be awesome to have something like this for those days when I REALLY want that extended break I can’t get at home or biking in the woods.
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