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DBT and Me

Mindfulness

By Becca WillsonPublished 4 years ago 5 min read
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Photo by Dawid Zawiła on Unsplash

*Trigger warning—Talk of Suicidal Ideation

I was sitting on the hardwood floor of my bedroom. I felt the room spinning. No, not the room. It was me, spiraling out of control into the blackness of my depression. It felt like mental quicksand, because the more I struggled against the despair the faster I was pulled under, until all I could feel was the overwhelming need to end my suffering.

Eventually the feeling passed. It always did, though while it was happening, I was sure it would last forever. I think the year was 2006 and my brother, Tom, was living with my husband, our three young children, and me. My fits of despair were coming more often, and were getting more intense. They scared me because I was starting to think about specific options for ending my life. I felt that I couldn't keep myself safe any longer, no matter how hard I tried.

Since Tom was the only one home I asked him to take me to the hospital. I remember sitting in the ER and having to convince the staff that I needed to be hospitalized.

After assuring them that I understood I couldn't change my mind once admitted, and I needed to be admitted because I was sure I wouldn't be able to keep myself safe, a nurse told me, "Are you sure your family can't just stay with you?"

I looked her square in the eyes and calmly said, "If you don't admit me today I will go home and kill myself. My blood will be on your hands."

It's been 13 years, and I still can't believe it took such a drastic comment to finally let them know I was serious. Although, now that I think about it, I have the knack for not showing signs that I'm in extreme pain, mental or otherwise. For instance, I was nearing the last stage of labor with my first baby, and the doctor, when first seeing me, said I was way too calm to be far enough along in my labor to justify admitting me just yet. Then she checked my cervical dilation, and to her surprise, I was much farther along than she had assumed.

Another time, after a serious car accident, I experienced a muscle spasm so severe that when it first came on I had to call out for help because I couldn't move. At the ER, the nurse told me the shot he was about to give me was the most painful one I'd probably ever gotten. But when he gave it to me my facial expression didn't change, and I didn't move or make a sound. He said, "Oh, I guess it wasn't that painful after all." To which I replied, "No, you were right. That hurt like hell."

I just don't show my suffering. And it's not like I try to hide it. It's just the way I am.

Anyway, it was during this hospital stay that I was introduced to Dialectical Behavior Therapy, or DBT.

DBT consists of four components: Mindfulness, Distress Tolerance, Emotion Regulation, and Interpersonal Relationship. Mindfulness has been my saving grace. Learning what mindfulness is and how to apply it in every area of my life is what frees me from being controlled by my emotions.

For me, mindfulness is simply getting out of my head and into my body. Pure mindfulness holds no judgement. In this space, things are as they are. There's no denial, no manipulation, no twisting of facts, no deep thinking, no struggle. Mindfulness is the ability to let it be.

Mindfulness is also misunderstood, and because of our highly reactive and judgmental society, its simplicity is challenging to comprehend. It has taken me years to fully grasp this practice.

One thing that helped me understand mindfulness was a book by Philip Moffit, Dancing with Life. In it, he describes the Buddhist idea of letting pain be without adding additional suffering. This idea may not be quite the same as mindfulness, but it made mindfulness easier to understand. When I experienced any pain I began noticing the judgments I added. I'd get a headache and I'd think, "Why do I always get these awful headaches? Don't I have enough to deal with? Is God punishing me, or do I just need to have more faith?" This is an extreme example, but the point I want to make is that the headache was simply a headache. I added suffering to the headache by adding judgment. Mindfulness allowed me to just notice the pain without the judgment. I would notice that my shoulder muscles were tight, and that my nausea began in my head and moved down into my stomach. You may think doing this would make the pain worse but surprisingly I began to notice the space between the pain. I realized my headache pain wasn't constant and, like trying to remember a dream, the headache would often drift away while I was mindful of it. I also came to realize that the amount of time I noticed the pain was far smaller when I let go of judging it.

During full-blown migraines, though, mindfulness did little to relieve the pain. But, I learned to at least let the pain be without adding suffering. This freed my mind to focus on what I could do to lessen the pain.

I could go on and on but I think this explanation gives an idea of my perspective on mindfulness. I hope it helped someone understand this amazing practice. Understanding the nature of mindfulness and applying the practice to everyday living is life changing!

I love this topic and I'm sure to write more in the future.

Thank you for reading and have a beautifully mindful day!

recovery
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About the Creator

Becca Willson

I am a writer and mindfulness meditation teacher trying to forge a new path in life as I learn to love, grow and share all I know along the way!

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