This is intended to be the twelfth article in a series I’m working on about trying different mindfulness and coping skills from the website DBT: Dialectical Behavior Therapy (https://dialecticalbehaviortherapy.com/). I’m doing these practices because my therapist thought they would be good for me—and honestly, I’ve been curious to see whether they actually make any difference in my everyday life.
When Butter Turns Into a Battleground
It usually starts small. A casual comment about butter, or maybe the weather, or a baseball game. Harmless words—until they’re not. When my sister and mom are in the same room, what should be a normal conversation often mutates into a full-scale war. It doesn’t matter if I’m involved or not; just being nearby feels like standing on a fault line seconds before the earthquake hits.
That’s the backdrop I brought with me when I tried the DBT exercise Recognizing Signs of an Emotional Crisis. The idea of the worksheet is simple enough: track the early signals—physical, emotional, cognitive, and behavioral—that warn you a crisis is brewing. For me, the crisis didn’t have to come from inside. Sometimes it’s the chaos around me that sets off my internal alarms.
But sitting down with the paper, pen in hand, I realized something: this wasn’t just about filling boxes. It was about facing the demolition derby happening inside my head every time my family dynamic spun out of control.
The Skill in DBT Terms
In DBT, “distress tolerance” skills are about getting through painful moments without making them worse. Recognizing Signs of an Emotional Crisis is like the prequel to all the other tools. It’s about noticing the smoke before the fire, so you can grab the extinguisher before the kitchen burns down.
That might sound obvious—of course you’d know when you’re in a crisis, right? Not always. For many of us, emotions sneak up quietly. They show up in our bodies, in our thoughts, in little behaviors that don’t seem like much—until suddenly we’re yelling, crying, or shutting down.
This exercise asks you to break it down:
- What did you feel in your body?
- What emotions showed up first?
- What thoughts barged in?
- What behaviors followed?
That’s the theory. The practice, as I found out, is messier.
The Physical Signs: Tingling and Tightness
The first thing I usually notice is my body staging a protest. A tingling sensation spreads across my upper chest, shoulders, and arms. My stomach knots up, as if it’s bracing for impact.
It’s not subtle. It’s my nervous system screaming: Something bad is about to happen.
That’s what DBT calls an early warning sign. Unfortunately, in my house, that feeling is less “early” and more “constant background noise.” When two people you love can turn a conversation about butter into a shouting match, you live with your shoulders up around your ears most of the time.
The Emotional Derby
If I had to describe the emotions that take over, I’d say anger and frustration grab the steering wheel first. But it doesn’t stay in their hands for long. Sadness yanks it one way. Guilt pulls it another. And then self-hatred—my personal backseat driver—leans forward and hisses, “Why are you even feeling this? What’s wrong with you?”
It’s not just one driver; it’s a demolition derby in my head. Every car is trying to crash into the others, and I’m just along for the ride.
Writing this down on the worksheet didn’t make it prettier. But it did give me language for something I usually only feel.
The Thought Spiral: Opportunistic Invaders
The exercise also asked me to note the thoughts that showed up. And here’s where it got weird.
I sometimes think of my darker thoughts as “opportunistic.” They’re always lurking somewhere in the background, easy enough to suppress on a normal day. But when emotions are high, they barge in like they own the place.
The fight doesn’t even have to be about me. I could be sitting quietly in another room. Still, there they are: I’m a plague. My life isn’t worth it.
Why does my brain do this? I don’t know. Maybe it’s chemistry, neurons firing in patterns I can’t control. Maybe it’s habit. All I know is that these thoughts aren’t invited, but they always show up when the house is in chaos.
And seeing them written on paper? It was jarring. Words that float in your head look different when you can see them staring back at you in black and white.
The Whisper of Hope
Not all the thoughts were cruel. Somewhere, very quietly, another voice whispered: In a few hours you’ll be on the couch. The house will be calm. You’ll make it.
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t confident. But it was there.
And honestly, sometimes that’s enough. DBT doesn’t ask us to drown out the negative with toxic positivity. It asks us to notice both—the demolition derby and the whisper of hope—and to hold them at the same time.
Behavior in Action
Here’s how it played out:
- First, I made snippy remarks. Not daggers, just sharp little jabs.
- Then I yelled. Louder than I meant to.
- Finally, I left the room.
Leaving felt like escape and relief rolled into one. Had I stayed, things probably would have escalated. Walking away didn’t solve the fight, but it got me out of the blast zone.
Sometimes my stepping in helps prevent a fight. Other times it makes no difference at all. In my house, small fights break out daily. Major ones? About once a month. They’re like natural disasters—inevitable, messy, and devastating.
The Family Dynamic: Peace Talks at the Dinner Table
The whole thing feels like trying to broker a peace deal between two nations with a history of conflict. Only in this case, the nations are my sister and my mom, and the battlefield is our living room.
I often feel hypervigilant, like a translator who has to decode every word before it turns into an explosion. One misheard phrase and the war resumes.
It’s exhausting. It’s a nightmare. And it leaves me both trapped and invisible.
Trapped, because you can’t just leave your house every time a fight breaks out. Invisible, because I’ve said—again and again—how painful this is for me, only to feel like no one really hears it.
Did the Worksheet Help?
Here’s the part where I wish I could say the exercise was a breakthrough. That filling out the worksheet gave me a sense of control, or clarity, or peace.
It didn’t.
I didn’t feel much of anything while writing. No big “aha.” No lightning-bolt insight.
But here’s what I did notice: the minute my sister and mom are in the room together, I start scanning for danger. My body tenses. My mind races. Even a casual conversation feels like a prelude to disaster.
That’s not nothing. Recognizing that pattern—the hypervigilance, the dread, the physical panic—may not have calmed me down, but it put the warning signs in bold letters where I couldn’t ignore them.
Comparing Tools: Cost-Benefit vs. Crisis Recognition
Compared to other DBT tools, this one felt… off.
The Cost-Benefit Analysis exercise, for example, gave me tangible insight. It made me weigh whether reaching for Doritos was worth it (spoiler: sometimes it is). Mindfulness exercises have grounded me in the present moment, even when my brain wanted to spiral.
But Recognizing Signs of an Emotional Crisis? I wasn’t sure if I was doing it right. My breakdowns don’t usually come from blowing up at minor things. They come from chaos around me or from the OCD-style rumination that won’t let go of my brain. This worksheet didn’t quite fit my puzzle.
And that’s an important thing to say out loud: not every DBT tool will land perfectly for every person. Sometimes you’ll get gold. Sometimes you’ll get a shrug. Both are valid.
What I Learned Anyway
Even if I didn’t walk away enlightened, I did walk away with reminders:
- My body knows before I do. Tingling, tension, stomach knots.
- My thoughts aren’t always logical. Some sneak in just because they can.
- My emotions compete for the driver’s seat, turning a family fight into a demolition derby.
- And sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is leave the room.
Was it comfortable to write all this down? Not at all. Did it feel like dragging chaos onto paper? Absolutely. But sometimes dragging it out is the only way to see it clearly.
A Note to Readers
If you’re following along in this DBT series and you try this exercise, here’s my advice:
- Don’t expect fireworks. You might not feel a huge release.
- Pay attention to the small stuff—where in your body the tension shows up, which emotions yank the steering wheel, what thoughts sneak in.
- Even if you think you “did it wrong,” the noticing itself is progress.
You may find this exercise more useful after a crisis than during one. That’s okay. Think of it as keeping a record for your future self, so the next time the storm hits, you’ll recognize the thunder before the lightning.
My Note to Self
If I had to sum up my experience with this worksheet in one line, it would be:
“Talk to your doctor about this one. You might have done it wrong.”
And honestly? That’s still a win. Because DBT isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up, trying the skills, and learning what works for you.
Sometimes you walk away with insight. Sometimes you walk away with a page of scribbles and a sense of frustration. Either way, you’ve practiced noticing. And noticing is the first step toward change.
Closing
The truth is, emotional crises don’t always announce themselves with flashing lights and sirens. Sometimes they whisper in the tightness of your chest, the snippy remark that slips out, the thought that sneaks in uninvited.
Doing this exercise didn’t make me immune to those crises. But it did shine a light on the patterns I live with every day—the demolition derby in my head, the peace talks in my living room, the whisper reminding me I’ll make it through.
And maybe that’s the point. Not to fix it all in one worksheet, but to recognize the signs so that when the next storm comes—and it will—I’m just a little bit more prepared to ride it out.
