Several years ago, after an unspeakably traumatic experience and a subsequent PTSD diagnosis, sleepless nights became commonplace for me. I would lie awake all night battling intrusive thoughts, spend my mornings exhausted and riddled with anxiety, and in the afternoons collapse for a few hours of fitful sleep.
Experts in This Article
psychiatrist and founder of Menlo Park Psychiatry and Sleep Medicine
clinical neuropsychologist and neuroscience researcher
Turns out, there’s a close relationship between anxiety and insomnia. A 2022 clinical review1 estimates that half of people with anxiety also struggle with sleep disturbances, and in turn, conditions like insomnia can make anxiety worse (talk about a vicious cycle).
What’s more, says Alex Dimitriu, MD, a dual-board-certified psychiatrist and sleep medicine specialist, the type of polyphasic sleep I was subsisting on (that is, short bouts of sleep throughout the day instead of one long period of sleep each night) can result in symptoms of sleep deprivation, including worsened memory and impulse control as well as heightened anxiety. Additionally, he notes that rapid eye movement or REM sleep—which is crucial for overall health and well-being—would not occur in shorter sleep windows or naps.
Hitting my breaking point
To cope, I did as much therapy as I could afford and got some temporary relief on my appointment days. Though I was encouraged to try traditional meditation, I was never able to quiet my mind enough to feel the benefits. I ate melatonin gummies like they were my daily (okay, nightly) bread, until they ceased to have even the slightest effect.
After several years of this, when the effects of anxiety-induced insomnia on my personal and professional life became too great to ignore, I decided to leave the city I had been living in and return to my island home in the hopes of finding some respite in the simpler setting of my childhood.
But changing my location was no panacea. My first night in Antigua, I lay in bed aware that I was in a different place. The oppressive air of the concrete jungle with its constant din of traffic and sirens was replaced by trade winds blowing through open louvers, rustling my curtains, and the nighttime symphony of chirping crickets and croaking frogs. But I was still me, and my tormented mind raced on through the night.
How I discovered the therapeutic benefits of floating
In the Caribbean, there’s a general understanding that seawater has healing properties. Growing up, a trip to the beach was less about rigorous swimming and more an occasion for a sea bath, an activity widely considered a cure-all.
On my first day at the beach, I entered the still waters and let my body acclimate to the slightly cooler temperature. Then, as I had done so many times in childhood, I leaned back, allowing the water to lift me up and submerge my entire body, save for my face and the tips of my toes. In the silent stillness, I gazed at the blue expanse above, noticing the changing patterns of clouds and the occasional seagull flitting across the sky. Each inhale and exhale felt like a conscious but natural effort, and I had the impression that, for the first time in years, I was breathing easily.
Like most of the beaches in Antigua, this one was extremely calm, and so my only tactile sensation was the gentle rocking of waves caressing my face. Whereas my constant anxiety had left me feeling estranged from myself, the act of floating, along with the self-trust required for my surrender to weightlessness, brought me back to myself.
That night, I slept peacefully and dreamed. My REM cycle was back! Every day that week I returned to the beach and enjoyed the weightlessness of free-floating, and each night I slept easily and woke up refreshed.
Had I stumbled upon a cure for my anxiety-induced insomnia? As I often do when trying to make sense of an experience, I raced to the internet in search of online testimonials similar to my own. That’s when I discovered what I had been doing has a name: float therapy, also called reduced environmental stimulation therapy (REST).
Exploring REST
REST is a therapeutic technique that limits sensory input, which reduces brain stimulation and leads to a state of deep relaxation. Flotation-REST, the most common method, involves free-floating in a pool of Epsom salt-saturated water heated to body temperature (or in my case, naturally salty, warm ocean water).
Though there’s limited research on flotation-REST, a 2018 study2 found that a single one-hour session of the therapy reduced anxiety and improved mood in a group of 50 people with a range of anxiety and stress disorders.
Justin Feinstein, PhD, a clinical neuropsychologist and the lead researcher on that 2018 study, says the floating environment naturally induces a state of relaxation. “This is happening in both the physiology of the body and also the brain itself,” he says. “Oftentimes when you talk to people who are trying to meditate outside of a float tank, they’ll talk about the mind racing. What we found is that the float environment naturally slows the brain down, so it allows you to focus on present-moment sensations.”
This explanation helped me understand why, during my peak anxiety, I was never able to sit still enough to feel the benefits of seated meditation. And yet, my mind was at peace while floating at the beach.
Because Feinstein’s research on float therapy was conducted in a controlled environment (aka, a flotation tank), I asked him his thoughts on my serenity and improved sleep after floating sessions at the beach. He mentioned Blue Mind, a concept developed by his friend, the late Wallace J. Nichols. “The whole premise of Blue Mind is that there’s something inherently healing about water,” Feinstein explains. “It could be anything from just looking at water to immersing yourself in it, whether it be through swimming or surfing or floating.”
This makes me think of the Caribbean adage of a sea bath as the ultimate cure-all. Could it be that islanders have long understood the powers of floating and researchers are only now catching up?
“I definitely think there’s something to that,” says Feinstein, who lives in Maui. “On this island, people are using the ocean as a tool for healing, and this is something that goes back generations.”
Through the course of his work, Feinstein has met with Hawaiian cultural practitioners who’ve shared that using salt water to cleanse the nervous system of trauma dates back hundreds of years. “I think these ancient practices have gotten lost over time” he says, “But there are a lot of people who inherently understand this, and I think people who go to the ocean definitely understand this.”
Recreating the mindfulness experience
Of course, due to simple geography, not everyone has ready access to a body of water. But float spas offer a similar experience. Shavon Muse, a wellness and marketing guru based in Philadelphia, says she has a membership to a nearby float center, which she visits every other month for a 60-minute session.
“Day-to-day life can be an overload,” Muse says. “Floating allows me the chance to disconnect from it all. I sleep better and have whimsical dreams after my sessions, and it gives me a great reset point in my personal awareness.”
Still, these sessions can be pricey. That’s partly why, several years ago, Feinstein started the nonprofit Float Research Collective with the primary goal of getting float therapy approved as a medical treatment that can be prescribed by doctors and covered by insurance plans. The collective recently received a grant allowing them to deliver float therapy treatment to survivors of the devastating 2023 Maui wildfires who continue to suffer from PTSD.
In the meantime, tapping into the benefits of REST at home comes down to finding a mindfulness activity that works for you, Dr. Dimitriu says. “Any mindfulness activity, or simply slowing down and being present in the body rather than the mind, can be helpful to alleviate anxiety and subsequently improve sleep,” he says.
Beyond floating, mindfulness activities include body scan meditation, deep breathing exercises, movement-based meditations like labyrinth walking or silent walks, progressive muscle relaxation, and even mindful coloring.
Feinstein says what’s important is giving the nervous system a chance to rest. “I think a big part of what people need to do in their day-to-day life is create periods of rest where you’re not doing anything in particular,” he says. “Whether you’re lying down…on a very comfortable bed, or in a pool of water, a bathtub, or a float tank, it doesn’t matter.”
What the future holds for me
My sojourn in my island home is quickly coming to an end. Though I look forward to returning to city life with decreased anxiety levels, improved sleep habits, and a renewed sense of self, I know that recovery from a traumatic experience can be a lifelong endeavor.
My organic float therapy set me on the path to becoming reacquainted with aspects of my personality I thought I’d lost forever—namely, my creativity and general optimism. I look forward to recreating and continuing this therapeutic floating meditation and incorporating other mindfulness practices into my life.
—expert reviewed by Brooke Schwartz, LCSW
Chellappa SL, Aeschbach D. Sleep and anxiety: From mechanisms to interventions. Sleep Med Rev. 2022 Feb;61:101583. doi: 10.1016/j.smrv.2021.101583. Epub 2021 Dec 8. PMID: 34979437.
↩︎Feinstein JS, Khalsa SS, Yeh HW, Wohlrab C, Simmons WK, Stein MB, Paulus MP. Examining the short-term anxiolytic and antidepressant effect of Floatation-REST. PLoS One. 2018 Feb 2;13(2):e0190292. doi: 10.1371/journal.pone.0190292. PMID: 29394251; PMCID: PMC5796691.
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