How A Cold Plunge Helps Me Reset When I’m Feeling Low

Cold plunges have become quite the rage in the wellness sphere. The practice of immersing yourself in ice-cold water is nothing new; it’s a long-held cultural tradition in Nordic countries like Finland, Norway, and Iceland. But in the U.S., with biohackers like Andrew Huberman and elite athletes noting potential benefits from the practice and cold plunge places popping up all over, sitting in a tub of frigid water has become, well, hot.

There’s some decent science to back up the cold plunge fervor. Some research shows that regular cold plunging is linked to improved wellbeing and reduced stress, as well as better sleep and quality of life for some individuals. Evidence from some studies show that a single cold immersion may boost mood for certain individuals. How this works isn’t totally clear. But one study—which showed that a five-minute plunge increases positive feelings like alertness, pride, and inspiration, while decreasing negative feelings like distress—found that those emotional changes correlate with changes in brain connectivity. Scientists also know that whole-body cold exposure triggers the release of brain chemicals that play a role in mood and emotional regulation (like serotonin and dopamine).

However it works, in my experience a cold plunge reliably snaps me out of a crappy mood. I always leave feeling invigorated, buzzing but calm, wide-awake but relaxed, peaceful but a little euphoric. Along with a much-needed, instant boost to my mood and energy, a cold plunge session gives me something else I desperately need on tough days: A reminder of who I am and what I’m capable of.

When you first get in the cold plunge tub, the temperature is a shock to the system. Everything in your survival instincts fights against it: You start to hyperventilate, shake, and feel overwhelming urges to get out of there immediately. And yet, I stay. I close my eyes and start to focus on my breath, slowing it down. I inhale deeply through my nose into my belly and slowly out through my mouth. In, out. In, out. I remember what a powerful regulating tool my breath is.

I start to meditate. I feel the sensations of the icy water on my skin, the trembling of my muscles. I notice all the places I’m unnecessarily tensing up and invite them to relax as much as they’re willing to, similar to techniques used in somatic exercises. I notice the thoughts about getting out, and my mind’s attempts to escape the moment—brace against what’s happening and distract myself or count down until the cold plunge is over. Except when you’re in water that cold, you can’t resist or avoid what’s happening: the stimuli are just too much. You quickly learn that your only option is to be present and surrender.

In that state of peaceful acceptance, I begin to reconnect with the deepest part of my inner strength. Breath by breath, moment by moment, I let that sense of fortitude fill me. It’s steady, unshakable, and peaceful. I start to feel that equanimity and resilience in my cells. The quiet power that is always there and that on bad days, I forget. During the cold plunge, I start to remember it. Relax into it.

That’s the magic of the cold plunge: It doesn’t give me things I can only find in there. It reminds me of everything that’s always available to me out there, even when I’m feeling crappy, down on myself, or stuck. The grounding nature of my breath is always accessible. I can always choose to be present. Accepting what is always feels better than resisting it. I can always choose to do something hard and support myself through it. My inner strength is always there, waiting to be tapped into. So, I leave the cold water shivering, flushed in the cheeks, and feeling like myself again.

This article is intended for general informational purposes only and reflects personal experiences. It is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Individual experiences may vary.