Hello, my name is Steve.

As long as I can remember, I’ve been prone to anxiety and physical tension, frequently feeling uptight, easily irritated or too excitable when under pressure, often overthinking things. Though I’m a decently functioning human being, I usually don’t feel extremely comfortable in my skin. In years past I had tried medicating my anxiety and discomfort, both legally and otherwise, but ultimately found neither method to be successful. I benefited in various ways from counseling, emotional healing ministries, alternative therapies and prayer, but I still didn’t feel a sustained sense of ease and well-being.

One thing I hadn’t done, but had long wanted to do, was to try out a flotation tank. It was easy to just let that idea float low on the bucket list—the entire state of Tennessee didn’t even have a commercial tank available until 2013. Turns out there’s a reason for that: float tanks fall into a grey area regarding health department regulations, and they’re misunderstood. Tanks are legally defined as swimming pools in Tennessee (and other states), and it’s impractical to apply pool regulations to tanks, pound for pound. Perhaps the main problem, though, is that the general public is misinformed, if informed at all, about float tanks and their use for pain management, stress relief and muscle recovery (often for athletes).

Mark Chesshir and Amy Grimes

“A lot of people have not heard of float therapy, and they perceive it as a new-age, hippy-dippy kind of thing, not realizing that the float tank has been around for 60 years,” says Amy Grimes, owner of Murfreesboro’s Float Alchemy. “There is a large, large body of research, including clinical research, that shows the positive results of flotation therapy.”

In 2011, Grimes and partner Mark Chesshir set out to bring float tanks to Middle Tennessee, beginning with a small three-tank facility in Davidson County. Float Nashville, the first such facility in the entire state, was two years in the making, opening in August of 2013. As she later explained in a blog entry at her website floatnashville.com, It was the hardest thing I have ever done. People thought we were crazy, the health department thought we were crazy. We couldn’t get funding. No one would rent to us because they didn’t understand what kind of business we were starting. People had never heard of float therapy so we had a lot of education to do!

Murfreesboro’s Float Alchemy, which took 10 months to become a fully functioning reality in its current Cason Lane location, realizes Grimes’ vision for an affordable respite from day-to-day stress. In April of 2018, the facility was permitted to open its Kombucha Taproom, offering a variety of health-enhancing and surprisingly tasty fermented beverages; in June, Float Alchemy’s three styles of float tanks became available for use. (In subsequent installments, you’ll learn about the facility’s full range of services, or you can learn more at floatalchemy.com).

After scheduling my first float, I received an email confirmation that contained a link to all the information needed to prepare me for my first time in the tank. I knew to eat a light meal an hour before arriving, and not to consume coffee or other stimulants that might diminish the experience in the tank, which is intended to minimize sensory stimulation. I was advised not to shave, and to reschedule my float if I had any open wounds. Why? Well, because tanks contain roughly 1,000 pounds of Epsom salts. Any cut or opening in the skin is going to sting, at the least, and possibly burn like the dickens when salt enters it (as in the case of one floater who, initially unbeknownst to the staff, had entered a tank while covered in road rash from a recent motorcycle wreck). Tank users can cover small cuts with a protective jelly provided onsite.

Arriving at Float Alchemy amidst midday traffic at 96 and Cason Lane, and hearing the whooshing and whirring at the self-service car wash adjacent to its parking lot, I entered to find a quiet, aesthetically pleasing atmosphere . . . where all the external hubbub quickly dissolved. Calming, spacious music wafted from behind the counter. Hammock swings beckoned invitingly to my right (Grimes invites curious passers-by to try them—there’s no fee for just hanging out).

Shortly thereafter, music ushered me into the float experience, which began with a quick shower in the private, low-lit tank room. No, Steve, you don’t have to towel off . . . you’re getting into a tank of water, dude. Malleable wax earplugs, perfect for keeping ears dry and salt-free, muted the music, which faded away shortly thereafter. I was told the music would return an hour later to serve as a gentle cue that it was time to emerge and rinse off the salt.

So, what would floating feel like? Would I feel any different afterwards? I had never succeeded in learning to swim, so I had always been apprehensive about surrendering myself to a quantity of water. Also, I’d learned in recent years that my mother, while pregnant with me, had unusually low levels of amniotic fluid, resulting in what is called a “dry birth.” (The term is somewhat misleading, though, as an infant cannot survive with no fluid whatsoever in its mother’s womb.) I wondered if my infant brain had ever even experienced a full feeling of buoyancy.

I had chosen the pod, the smaller of two types of enclosed tanks onsite (an uncovered tank is also available). Slightly disoriented in the small, low-lit space, awkwardly reaching around and above me to pull the door closed (it can remain open, but I wanted the full experience), I bumped my head against it. Sheesh! I chuckled and readied myself to let the salt water support my entire frame. Holding a roughly 10-inch foam ring that serves as a head support, I fumbled around to arrange it under my head, raised a foot to test the large button on the tank’s left side that turned off the light, and . . . let go.

Steve prepares to enter the flotation chamber, displaying the floating pillow provided by Float Alchemy

I was afloat. I needed to do nothing but relax and allow it to happen.

After maybe 20 minutes, I had become so settled that it actually felt as though something solid was underneath me. I scissored my arms and legs back and forth, allowing me to more consciously experience the sensation of resting atop a foot of water. Breathing deeply and clearing my mind, neither of which came easily for me, seemed possible for short intervals, at least. Enjoying the experience but feeling restless, I emerged before the music cued the end of my session. Reaching up to open the pod door, salt water dripped from my arm . . . straight into my right eye. I grabbed the spray bottle of pure water left just outside the tank for just such a purpose, gratefully spritzing my eye. I stood up . . . and noticed feeling lighter on my feet.

Relaxing at the oxygen bar post-float

Showered and dressed, sipping complimentary tea, I sat in a lounge area, savoring the feeling of serenity. I was advised, though, that I would likely begin to experience a greater benefit after a second or third float.

Stay tuned, Murfreesboro . . . and may the freedom of the float be with you.
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