- I learned I had claustrophobia, a fear of small spaces, while on a night bus in Cambodia.
- A lack of airflow triggers me, so I decided to try a sensory-deprivation tank to conquer my fear.
I realized I had claustrophobia — a fear of small spaces — at 28 while on a night bus in Cambodia. I've learned that when I'm triggered, it can feel like I'm suffocating and trapped.
Through therapy, I've come to understand I developed claustrophobia after being raped in a hotel bathroom when I was 15. Whenever I'm in a crowded elevator or a bathroom and struggling to unlock the door, the panicked feeling starts to set in.
I've tried to tackle this fear by booking trips with experiences in small spaces, including hot-air-balloon rides in Teotihuacan, Mexico; Cappadocia, Turkey; Luxor, Egypt; and Mesa, Arizona. I once flew in an ultralight plane over a sinkhole in Chiapas, Mexico. None of these situations triggered my claustrophobia. I realized this was because they were open air, so I didn't feel I was lacking airflow.
Recently, while I was in Los Angeles, I took a ride in a helicopter along the coast and sat in the front so I'd see my surroundings. While the helicopter cabin was larger than the ultralight plane's, it was enclosed, so I felt nervous during takeoff. It was very warm inside, but once the air conditioning started to flow, I began to relax. The claustrophobia I'd been expecting didn't take over. This made me feel I was ready for something more intense — a sensory-deprivation tank.
A sensory-deprivation tank is a soundproof tank filled with 1 foot or less of saltwater. That allows the body to float with minimal effort for restricted environmental stimulation therapy. I've always felt most at peace while floating in the sea, in lakes, or in a pool. While I'd been eager to try a float tank for years, my claustrophobia stopped me because part of the experience involved closing the tank completely to prevent noise disturbances. But I decided that it was time to give it a chance.
I tried to prepare myself mentally
For the past year, I've been microdosing with psilocybin mushrooms to cope with stress. "Magic" mushrooms help me captivate a sense of calm, so in preparation for my time float, I decided to take a dose of psilocybin as part of my float-tank experience. While watching the second season of "And Just Like That," I cringed as Miranda abandoned her float session, perhaps because of the anxiety she was feeling about moving to Los Angeles. I worried that I'd do the same thing and hoped the mushrooms would help me stick it out.
When I arrived for flotation therapy at Pause Studio, I let the attendant know I was claustrophobic. He said I could get out whenever I wanted, I didn't have to close the lid all the way, and I didn't have to turn the lights or music off. Knowing I had total control over the experience made me feel safe — especially after testing how easy it was to open and close the lid.
An hour in the pod went slower than I thought it would
Before dipping into the egg-shaped tank, I ate some gummies infused with psilocybin, the compound that makes magic mushrooms magic, and immediately began to feel at ease. I was determined to enjoy the restorative experience and took it one step at a time. I started by standing in the 10-inch-deep water and noticing how its high density, with 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts, felt gooey against my skin.
Next, I laid down and closed the lid but left on the gentle blue light and sound-bowl music. I was delighted with the sensation of my body floating with minimal effort. But I was still feeling anxious about enclosing myself in a tank and could hear my heart pounding. I did a four-part breathing exercise to calm my nerves.
I had hoped for an hour of stillness and silence to self-reflect and meditate. Instead, I was feeling restless, so I used the excess energy to do gentle yoga stretches in the water — half-moon side bends and goddess pose. Doing the poses while floating felt otherworldly.
Halfway through the soak, I started to feel discomfort. The lack of airflow meant the water and the pod were getting warmer. I tried to ignore the sensation, but when it became too much, I stepped out to take a quick cold shower in the room to cool down. I instantly felt better and more in control of the situation. Upon returning to the tank, I left the lid cracked open a few inches so air could flow into the pod, which helped ease my nerves.
Despite my discomfort, I found the experience freeing
When the music chimed that the session had ended, I was honestly disappointed. I've always found being submerged in water to be healing and thoroughly enjoyed the womblike experience. Despite my restlessness, I enjoyed the benefits of a sensory-deprivation tank, including a release of the soreness and pain in my body.
When I left the spa, I felt joyous, maybe because I was still high on mushrooms or because being in a float tank could reduce anxiety. While I didn't fall into a deep meditative state or lose all sensation of my body, I did feel weightless and relaxed. And while on a 12-hour flight to Tokyo the next day, I realized I felt less claustrophobia than usual. One soak didn't get rid of my claustrophobia, but with how good I felt after floating and the relief I felt on the plane, I'd try it again.