I vividly remember when one of my first DBT supervisors frequently used to say, “it’s a dialectic.” She’d shrug her shoulders, smile slightly, and if my memory serves me right, sometimes even wink. Her nonverbals communicated that I was supposed to understand what she was saying. I absolutely did not. My close colleague and I were often confused, struggling to understand what dialectics really meant.

Almost a decade later, I’m now the one confusing people. And not just my supervisees; most people I interact with (I’m mildly obsessed with dialectics). I recently got frustrated, impatient even, when my partner struggled to see the dialectic in whatever we were talking about. Which, of course, is not a dialectical response.

This led me to reflect on how I learned dialectics, which reminded me of my own bewilderment with my past supervisor. Whoops.

Reflecting on my own learning didn’t uncover a clear path to understanding. I don’t recall any specific moment where I finally felt I fully comprehended dialectics. Like most things, it was a process of being curious, making mistakes, and refining thinking that led me to where I am today. And, working in an environment that embraced a dialectical philosophy and taught it daily was likely exponentially helpful.

All this to say, understanding dialectics is complicated. Even with my passion for this way of thinking, I still find myself perplexed at times (see above for an example). There’s a dialectic there within a dialectical philosophy – which is the whole point. No single perspective contains the whole truth.

Dialectics doesn’t offer an endpoint; rather, it’s an approach to endless learning. It’s continuously searching for what is missing.

The quest for what’s missing promotes flexible thinking. It encourages perspective taking. Essentially, it’s a mechanism for understanding why someone might behave, think, or feel a certain way. And this curious approach opens space for constructive dialogue rather than hostile disagreement. It keeps us engaged when passionately held binary beliefs, and the emotions attached to them, threaten relationships.

Evidence for the relational consequences of binary thinking is abundant. The current political polarization, where families have separated over who they voted for, demonstrates this. Our minds crave certainty, and in doing so, we tend to sort the world into fixed categories – good/bad, right/wrong, safe/dangerous. This feels comfortable, and, is problematic. Because we often place new information into existing categories. Without curiosity, we misread the data.

Curiosity is foundational to a dialectical philosophy. It’s a mentality for expanding firmly held beliefs when learning something new. It’s a method for updating these beliefs when new facts appear contradictory. It’s holding what is known and integrating what is learned – long enough for deeper understanding to emerge. The goal is synthesis.

Underneath all of this are four principles that make dialectical flexibility work:

1. Everything is interconnected. Reality is a complex system of many interacting parts. Humans are in constant exchange with their environment. Understanding individual behavior requires considering the larger systems that shape how someone experiences the world.

2. Reality contains opposing forces. Everything that exists contains polarities that seem contradictory. Recognizing these polarities and being curious about what is missing facilitates rethinking. Wisdom emerges from synthesizing opposites into something new.

3. Change is continuous. Because everything is interconnected and reality is oppositional, change is the only constant. It’s the only thing we know for certain will continue. Acceptance of this fact is the prerequisite for effective action.

4. Change is transactional. Everything influences everything else. All things are caused by many interactions over time. Everything has causes.

Together, these principles offer an approach to getting unstuck by allowing opposites to coexist and recognizing that truth evolves over time. Let’s walk through a classic example.

People tend to blame their parents. Their mom did this, dad did this, and that’s the reason they’re having whatever issue today. There’s always truth here, and how could there not be – no parent, let alone person, is perfect. Naming a parent’s mistakes is pretty straightforward.

And, there’s more to acknowledge. First, that parent’s behavior makes sense given their own personal history and lived experience. Blaming them for problems does little to actually solve problems. It usually just increases frustration, which impedes change.

Second, regardless of why the problem emerged, the fact is that it still exists. Again, blaming them doesn’t solve anything. However the problem came about, the reality is that the person experiencing the problem is the one responsible for solving it. I know, life is unfair. Another helpful thing to accept.

Curiosity lets you hold both at once: the parent caused real harm, and their behavior is understandable based on their environment. Understanding doesn’t excuse harm, and taking responsibility for healing doesn’t necessitate blame. That’s the synthesis.

Learning dialectical flexibility takes time. It starts with observing opposing forces and getting curious about what’s missing. And it’s never finished. It’s a continuous practice of noticing the tension, questioning what you know, and remaining open to growth.

I had an “aha!” moment recently with a friend. I was (as usual) yapping about DBT over lunch. Like a true pal, she was inquiring about its structure and how behavior change happens. I mentioned the different components of treatment and emphasized the importance of learning behavioral skills in addition to individual therapy. She was intrigued that the treatment requires something beyond talk therapy, and then it hit me: I rarely explain the significance of learning skills to people outside the therapy office.

DBT skills are central to the treatment. Learning these behavioral skills is what helps people build a life worth living.

So when I say that everyone can benefit from DBT, what I really mean is that everyone can benefit from the skills taught in DBT. My words make it sound like I want everyone to participate in individual therapy, when that’s not the case (although I would argue that most people can also benefit from therapy, but that’s not the point I’m here to make). I’ve likely confused people by using the name of the treatment as shorthand for the skills it contains.

Let me be clear: I think everyone can benefit from DBT behavioral skills that emerge from the underlying dialectical philosophy. These skills are concrete, teachable skills that anyone can practice. Marsha Linehan, the mastermind behind DBT, made sure of it. And she had a uniquely challenging group providing her feedback: people repeatedly rejected from treatment, dismissed as untreatable, and avoided by many.

I’m rereading Marsha’s memoir, Building a Life Worth Living. What strikes me is how clearly and persistently she asserts that DBT skills are life skills. She repeatedly emphasizes their applicability far beyond the population for whom they were developed. If the skills could help them, they can help anyone.

“I developed these skills in the context of treatment for severely dysfunctional people. But, these are also life skills that can help every one of us live more fulfilled and emotionally stable lives. They are the stuff of everyday life.”

On the way to lunch with the friend mentioned above, she insisted we take a certain route after I repeatedly expressed my desire to go a different way. I felt anger rise in my chest as my heart began to race and my hands started to tremble.

So I practiced STOP: Stop. Take a step back. Observe. Proceed mindfully. I told her I needed a few minutes of space. I used that time to observe what was happening for me. I thought through the pros and cons of acting on the emotion. I oriented myself back toward my value of connection. And I noticed that what set me off was ultimately unimportant in the larger context of our friendship. A few minutes later, I calmly reengaged with her.

Marsha asserts that DBT is quite literally a program of self-improvement. The skills help people live more effectively. I’m fortunate to know them and to practice them daily in my own life. Because change doesn’t come from insight alone.

“You can’t think yourself into new ways of acting. You can only act yourself into new ways of thinking.”

And action without understanding is just reaction. Effective change requires both – which is exactly what came next. In those same few minutes, I analyzed what happened and what prompted the emotion. I explored the facts without judgment – what happened earlier in the day, what I showed up with, and what her actions touched on. I allowed myself to see that my reaction made sense. And thought about how to respond more effectively next time.

During lunch, I told her what her comment set off internally, why I stepped away, and what I found underneath – my sensitivity to feeling unheard. I didn’t have to. And, letting her see the messy part, instead of just the regulated version, brought us closer.

Marsha built her model around what pushes people to the edge: shame, hopelessness, and disconnection. Her mission was to help people experiencing those states find meaning. She accomplished that by centering DBT on teaching people to be effective. To do what is needed in tough moments to keep living in line with their values.

What stands out is how universal these experiences are, especially today. The same skills that pull people back from the edge by helping them accept and regulate emotional discomfort, generate hope, and connect with others also help the rest of us move through those feelings more effectively. As Marsha says, “being effective is the key to success in all walks of life.”

Along the way, in synthesizing personal experience, scientific rigor, and contemplative wisdom, something else emerged: a coherent worldview. The therapy itself is simply the clinical application. The core assumptions include:

• Reality is what it is.

• Change is the only constant.

• Pain is inevitable.

• Suffering is influenced by context.

• Behavior is modifiable.

• Wisdom emerges through synthesis.

• Everything is interconnected.

• Biology, relationships, and environments all matter.

• A life experienced as worth living can be intentionally built.

DBT was never only a treatment. Underneath the clinical application sits a philosophy of how to accept reality, embrace change, and build a life worth living. Dialectical Living is an exploration of what becomes possible when the philosophy and life skills beneath the treatment are brought into everyday life.

As a psychologist certified in Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT), I see the approach as much more than a treatment. It’s the lens through which I view life. I’ve been saying this for a while, and I’m recognizing how misleading that statement might seem.

DBT is a framework that I practice in my therapy office with individuals who meet criteria for a psychological diagnosis (often more than one). So when people outside of the psychology world hear that I view life through DBT, they probably wonder how the clinical manual for borderline personality disorder applies to my worldview. Or maybe they just think I’m crazy (which is their judgment to tolerate, not mine).

I’ve been thinking more about what seeing life through a DBT perspective means. It’s not the treatment per se that I find applicable; rather, it’s the underlying philosophy, principles, and behavioral skills.

The approach is grounded in dialectical philosophy, which assumes that reality is composed of seemingly opposing forces and that wisdom emerges from their integration. It proposes that human thinking moves forward by recognizing these contradictions and synthesizing them into something new. This conviction underlies all of DBT; hence, the word ‘dialectic’ in the title.

The central dialectic in DBT integrates the tension between acceptance and change. Balancing acceptance of reality with effective change anchors the entire framework.

Synthesis runs throughout, pulling together ideas that otherwise appear contradictory. This is evident in DBT’s integration of Zen Buddhism with behavioral psychology, making the framework both contemplatively informed and scientifically grounded. The Buddhist concepts of mindfulness, radical acceptance, nonattachment, the middle path, and compassion are interwoven with the behavioral principles of contingency management, shaping, exposure, and reinforcement.

Dialectically speaking, the synthesis of these divergent schools of thought expands beyond psychotherapy.

Understanding and synthesizing dialectics serve the ultimate goal of DBT: helping people build a life worth living. Change skills move clients toward more effective living, while acceptance skills cultivate understanding that pain is inevitable.

When reality isn’t accepted, suffering emerges through behaviors like rumination, catastrophizing, and judgment. A life worth living isn’t void of pain; it’s one that acknowledges pain as unavoidable and chooses to accept facts as a means to decrease suffering. It’s experiencing life as worth living amid pain, which makes it more tolerable.

When I start working with anyone, one of the most important conversations involves exploring their definition of a life worth living: what gives their life meaning, where they hope to go, and what they value. Not what their parents, their spouse, their friends, or their boss value – what they value. What they find internally motivating and exciting, regardless of what others might think or feel. What they experience as innately inspiring, especially when no one else is around.

Naming values offers guidance toward a destination people find motivating. Identifying current behavior and evaluating the space between that behavior and their values reveals areas of misalignment that often increase suffering. When habitual behaviors are inconsistent with someone’s vision of a meaningful life, people get stuck.

The behavioral skills in DBT help people close the gap. They offer strategies to move toward living a life that is values-aligned – one experienced as worth living. A satisfying and meaningful life, defined by whoever lives it.

My top values include adventure and connection, and I’m lucky to travel often with people I love. I’ve had a slew of less-than-ideal travel experiences recently. Within the past year, I’ve taken two international trips where my luggage was lost (one for most of the trip). On a road trip (or what was supposed to be one), my fully packed car was broken into, and everything inside was stolen.

The moment each of these occurred, I was tempted to throw a massive tantrum. While the urge was understandable, I asked myself: how will that help me live the life I want? The answer: not at all. It only moves me farther from it.

Now, that doesn’t mean I didn’t shed a few tears (I actually shed much more than a few); however, I didn’t let my distress take over. I validated my emotions (it made complete sense that I was upset) and accepted the brutal facts: my belongings were no longer with me. Throwing a tantrum wasn’t going to change that. It wasn’t going to bring back my favorite outfits. It was only going to interfere with fully enjoying each location and staying present with my favorite people.

Acceptance of the situation paved the way to effective problem-solving. And more importantly, it allowed me to stay aligned with my values of adventure and connection. Hyper-focusing on a situation that I couldn’t change would only detract from them.

My passion for my career comes from living what I teach. I find myself engaging with life more effectively every year I practice the skills (recent travel situations say hello). I credit much of my emotion regulation, cognitive flexibility, and interpersonal effectiveness to actively using DBT strategies in my own life.

Most people are well aware of my love for DBT (yes, my birthday celebration this year involved dialectics). A close friend and colleague recently said, “when I think DBT, I think Courtney; and when I think Courtney, I think DBT.”

I want the world to know DBT, love DBT, practice DBT, and live a DBT-informed life. What I love most isn’t DBT as a treatment model. It’s the broader philosophy underneath – and the behavioral skills that emerge as a result – that are too valuable to remain confined to the therapy office.

Dialectical Living translates that philosophy into a secular, non-clinical framework for everyday life. It’s not for any one diagnostic category or population of people. It’s not a prevention or treatment. It’s a way of embracing reality as it is – full of complexity and hardship – and still finding value in the day-to-day.

The purpose of Dialectical Living is to experience life as worth living.

It’s skillfully engaging with life by accepting what feels intolerable, regulating emotions that feel uncomfortable, separating thoughts from facts, and interacting effectively with others.

Dialectical Living starts with accurately observing reality. It’s using that awareness to change what’s in your control and accept what’s not. It’s practicing self-regulation and relational finesse when the difference is uncertain. And it’s tolerating that ambiguity long enough for deeper understanding to emerge.

A diagnosis is not necessary for this framework. Neither is a therapist.

What’s necessary is deciding that accepting reality, embracing change, and effectively navigating the messy space in between – with regular practice– help build a life you feel is worth living.