The Blog

Sensory Deprivation Tanks Scare the Hell Out of Me, So I Tried One

This post was published on the now-closed HuffPost Contributor platform. Contributors control their own work and posted freely to our site. If you need to flag this entry as abusive, send us an email.

2016-02-25-1456418301-3195962-main.jpg Credit: PETER CHARLESWORTH/LIGHTROCKET/GETTY IMAGES

I'm not sure what's worse: being too plugged in, or totally unplugged, and that's why sensory deprivation tanks scare the living crap out of me.

Not only do the pods looks like alien-abduction devices straight out of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance" video, but the thought of re-entering the womb is just creepy. On top of that, I can't recall any time in my life being completely devoid of sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell -- in fact, I feel like I'm the opposite, on constant sensory overload. Going cold turkey? Sorry, have you seen Requiem for a Dream?

All that in mind, I decided to face my fears by visiting a float studio in my Canadian hometown of Regina, Saskatchewan. Here's what I learned:

It's not a Jacuzzi Sensory deprivation is absolutely nothing like a hot tub, despite its sleek design and all that H2O. The water (265 gallons' worth) is mixed with a whopping 800lb of Epsom salt. Warm it all up to room temperature, and your boat is ready to float.

What I gathered from reading was that I'd be alert, but totally relaxed and in a dream-like state. An hour in the tank was as good as four hours of deep sleep. So I arrived at the studio (Smith & Best, if you're passing through Regina!), downed a glass of wine in the welcome room, and tried to get as mentally prepared as possible.

Rebirth is awkward Climbing back into the womb is just as clumsy and weird an experience as it sounds. Swimsuits are discouraged inside the tank to keep the skin's stress points totally free, so I got buck-naked and tried to climb in without breaking a leg or spilling water all over the floor.

After gingerly closing the lid, I laid back into the warm-ish water and looked at the pod's inner walls washed in blue light. Soft ambient music played for a few minutes before fading away. This ain't so bad! I thought. So I decided to take a literally blind leap of faith, by turning off the lights for the full sensory deprivation experience.

There will be panic... I was not ready for that. It was way too much -- too quiet, too dark, too everything -- and I ended up frantically grabbing around the tank's walls looking for the light button. I didn't find it but eventually moved the lid up, accidentally splashing salt in my eye at the same time.

Relaxation level? Zero. I sorted myself out and tried desperately to shut off my busy mind. Not easy. I thought about some emails I had to reply to. I thought about that scene from The Revenant where Leo wrestles the bear. I wondered if he would win an Oscar. You can see where this is going.

So I started to panic, knowing that I was wasting my time inside the glorious haven of a womb, and it would be over without achieving any zen.

More from Thrillist:

Like Thrillist on Facebook: