Riding the Waves of Emotions

I never learned how to swim properly. Growing up surrounded by streets and sidewalks in the middle of a city, heavy rain filling the street gutters was about as close as I got to moving water.

I was an adult the first time I ventured out into the ocean. Knocked off my feet, somersaulting and swallowing sea water, I tumbled toward the sand—where I immediately crossed “learning how to ride the surf” off my list of fun things to do.

So at first, the DBT skill of “riding the wave of emotion/urges” was not a metaphor that I was easily able to apply to my life. At least, that is, until I understood that getting overpowered by the wave (as I literally did in the ocean) is not the objective of this skill.

Rather, it’s more like taking a small step back, observing feelings rise, peak, and recede—knowing they will pass, not acting upon them, and not letting them control my behavior or knock me off my feet.

Yesterday, I had two cups of a new brand of coffee. I had a coupon for a box of Starbucks Keuring™ cups plus they were on sale. The coffee advertised itself as having a stronger kick than what I usually drink. But I had a coupon.

By the end of the second cup, I knew I was in trouble. I was shaking, talking fast and loud, and my mind was racing. That extra caffeine was clearly adversely affecting me.

Later that day, I was still shaky and hyper-aroused when Fred asked what he thought was a simple question: “Do you want to go for a walk downtown?”

Already over-stimulated with caffeine, my brain lit up with activity. Self-judgmental thoughts raced back in forth in indecisiveness starting with “but my hair isn’t combed and it needs to be colored” to “I don’t feel like seeing people but I don’t want to disappoint Fred” to “everyone else is outside enjoying the sunshine—what’s wrong with me?”

I told Fred I needed a few seconds to breathe deeply and observe what was going on inside of me. I described the physical symptoms from the coffee, the self-judging thoughts that were happening, and the feeling of being overwhelmed. He stood quietly in the doorway. I sat in a chair. A minute or two passed and, miraculously, so did the panic. I had ridden it out.

Once I returned to “wise mind,” we decided that we’d take a walk another day, he’d go for a run by himself today, I’d finish a little sewing project I was working on, and we’d eat dinner later. The emotional wave had come, peaked, and fallen. It did not overtake me. I had come out the other side. Not bad for a woman who can’t swim, I told myself.