The most painful thing about float tanks, perhaps, might be exploring those less comfortable areas of the mind. I’ve never had any significant problems with this, but I’ve talked to others that were apprehensive about the experience for that, or other reasons that were rooted in that unknown. Taking the time to float through traumatic, dramatic, or otherwise painful events in one’s life doesn’t seem terribly pleasurable, but I’ve found it’s helped me achieve serenity.
My spine was hurting so that was the focus of this float tank experience.
This might be my last float tank session for a while since I’ll be going into surgery in less than a week. I’ll have to talk with my doctors about floating, since the post-surgery information did include tending to the wound and being careful about bathing. It would seem that once I’m over a majority of the healing process, I could go back in the tank, safely, even in the next few weeks. We’ll see, though, because normally with mild conditions, getting into the tank would sort things out. Sore muscles, aching bones, the works can all be sorted out in a float tank…
My condition has worsened to where the float tank didn’t cure my condition.
I sometimes wonder if I’d be in this mess had I been able to go sooner… They were closed due to COVID, which forced us all home, and forced me into bad ergonomic conditions while working from home, which hadn’t healed up from my bad ergonomic conditions while working at work, causing this issue; I put in a worker’s compensation claim yesterday, although it might be denied for not crossing a “t” or dotting an “i.” Some idle speculation is fine to meander through, but excessively wondering about other timelines is a waste of the current timeline.
I’m in this spinal condition and there’s one way out.
It’s not for lack of trying, however, as I did my best spinal assessment in the tank. I massaged the muscles that I could reach, felt my spine and did some light massages, there, too, and although I was having a good spine day going into the tank and leaving, things change suddenly, especially when one’s body isn’t in the best of shape. I suppose that, had I gotten into a tank months ago during the pandemic [they weren’t open, but again, idle speculation], it’s possible that my symptoms could have been lessened. It’s just been such a wild ride that, honestly, I only remembered to book a session a few days ago. I’m glad I went, and I look forward to going many more times, but it’s just sad to me, I suppose, that the tank isn’t a cure-all.
Admitting floating isn’t a cure-all is a good thing.
It means that I gave it my best effort, so that when I go in for surgery in less than a week, my mind won’t wander to those idle speculations. I can have a determined, positive attitude when I go in. Although I will go through more pain through this healing process, things should get better, and maybe this time I can work with my doctors to determine when I can start doing things like floating or exercising again. I’m not feeling too well right now so I can’t recall many of the specifics of what I thought about while floating, but it was the first time I turned on the light while floating to give my mind a break. I was digging in deep into areas of my mind that could help fix my body which was becoming overwhelming. In that state, I might ask myself what caused the issue, what I could do to fix it, and while it’s not a negative feedback loop, what happens is you dig in until you find the root cause of the issue, or you need to take a break.
These sorts of things can be difficult, even for me.
However, it’s useful to critically analyze where we are in life so that we might be able to head in the direction we want. If I let myself be the victim of my spine without feeling where it hurts, seeing if there’s anything I can do to touch those areas, knead out the pain, otherwise getting things sorted, then I will always be the victim. I will always let factors like my physicality control me. I don’t want my body to be in the terrible state it’s in now. Although I’m at a significantly better weight, due to the spinal pain causing a lack of appetite, I can work toward being in better physical health with a better diet and more exercise, as they say.
I’ve been doing the best I can to try to be mobile.
I only use my cane on bad spine days. It’s a nice to have around but there have been occasions when I’ve been on one side of the apartment-mansion and forgot that my cane was on the other side. When the surgery concludes, when this healthcare series ends, then will I still need a cane? As much as I appreciate having it around, I think the cane would be like being a victim of circumstance, then allowing that circumstance to control your life. If, instead, we say that only through facing our adversities can we overcome them, that includes trying everything before going into surgery, dealing with the post-surgery pain, and working toward new objectives in life.
I want to float more often.
I want to restore my physicality enough to be physically active, possessing more mental and physical resolve, and I want to do what I want in life. Currently, I don’t have the energy or ability to do many of the physical actions I could do some months ago. These are the sorts of things I think about in the tank. How can I overcome this circumstance or that?
Then I take what I’ve learned from those experiences and apply them.
|Sources: My personal experiences.|
|Inspirations: This is the duality post to “Floating In Pleasure,” and though my thoughts were scattered due to internal stresses and some external stresses, I suppose that’s what this is all about. Digging in deep until I find that bad blood, bleeding it out, and getting healthier.|
|Related: Sober Living essays and Tripping On [The American Healthcare System] chapters. Other Float Tank essays.|
|Photo: Taken before floating, but inverted.|
|Written On: 2020 August 26 [5:47pm to 6:19pm]|
|Last Edited: 2020 August 26 [First draft; final draft for the Internet.]|