Earlier this year, I was approaching burnout. I felt as though my career as a freelance journalist was on permanent life-support, I was juggling a hectic family life, and I was consumed with worry about a world seemingly hellbent on self-destruction. I was struggling, too, with the death of a close family member and an old school friend. Grieving had become a default status. Despite support from family and loved ones, I needed to find a way to cope with this nearly overwhelming sense of loss.
I tried meditation, yoga and therapy, which all helped. Then I heard of Community Sauna Baths, a not-for-profit project in London designed to make saunas accessible and affordable for everyone. From my very first visit, I felt something change. A sense of peace came over me. It immediately felt like a sanctuary, a pocket of calm in the chaotic city that also allowed me to soothe this churning sadness and release some of the bottled-up angst.
Now, I visit regularly. I tend to go alone but the atmosphere is always friendly and welcoming, and it’s easy to strike up conversation with other guests. Even on busy days, people go out of their way to give each other sauna bench space. There’s a genuine sense of community.
There are so many benefits to saunas, I now realise. They reduce stress by releasing endorphins, and help to improve cardiovascular and muscle health. My hamstrings, which usually feel as if they’re permanently encased in cement, have loosened up dramatically. I feel so much more flexible now. I also enjoy the sensory experience of saunas: the smell of the wood, the sizzling of water ladled on hot stones – and, though perhaps less so, the bracing shock of the cold plunge pools afterwards, in which I tend to last a matter of seconds before bailing …
I’d always prided myself on my ability to take heat. Partly, I assumed, it had to do with my mum’s Anglo-Indian heritage; partly, a few childhood years living in the scorching Middle East. But I usually – foolishly – framed this ease with higher temperatures as some kind of endurance test.
I’ve visited saunas before, sporadically, but they turned into how-long-can-you-last competitions, my sweat-soaked torso and singed nasal hair becoming some sort of weird perseverance prize. The therapeutic part of the experience went up in steam.
But now my visits to the sauna feel like exercises in mindfulness; the heat helps you stay focused and present. It feels as if my negative thoughts are being flushed away. It’s like a deep cleanse for body and soul.
I emerge from a session feeling rejuvenated, both deeply relaxed and strangely energised. It helps realign my sense of emotional balance. I feel physically and mentally more limber, too, as if some of my old anxieties have literally evaporated. My future is still uncertain but I know I can face it now with the heat of new vigour and purpose.
