There's a particular kind of suffering that comes not from what's happening, but from the stories we tell ourselves about what's happening.
We're rarely just experiencing the moment—we're interpreting it, judging it, comparing it to other moments, worrying about what it means for the future, or rehashing how we got here.
The Describe skill in DBT offers a way out of this mental maze. It's deceptively simple: describe what you observe using words, sticking only to the facts, without adding interpretations, judgments, or assumptions. It's the difference between "My heart is racing and my palms are sweaty" and "I'm having a panic attack and something terrible is about to happen."
One is pure observation. The other is interpretation mixed with prediction and judgment. Learning to distinguish between these two might be one of the most valuable skills you ever develop.
What Is the Describe Skill?
Describe is one of the three "What" skills in DBT mindfulness (alongside Observe and Participate). While Observe focuses on noticing with your senses, and Participate involves throwing yourself fully into an activity, Describe bridges these two—it's about putting words to your observations without distorting them with your interpretations.
Think of it as becoming a documentary narrator of your own experience. A good documentarian describes what's visible and measurable: "The sun is setting over the water. The sky has turned orange and pink." They don't say: "The sunset is trying to tell me something profound about the fleeting nature of existence and I should feel deeply moved by this."
The Describe skill asks you to be that neutral observer of your own internal and external experience. Not detached or cold—just accurate. Just factual. Just what's actually here, right now, before your mind starts spinning stories about it.
Why Describing Matters
Our brains are meaning-making machines. They evolved to interpret, predict, and create narratives because these abilities helped our ancestors survive. The problem is that this machinery runs constantly, often creating suffering where none needs to exist.
When you believe your interpretations are facts—when you can't distinguish between "My boss didn't respond to my email" (fact) and "My boss is angry with me and I'm probably going to get fired" (interpretation)—you live in a world of unnecessary anxiety and confusion.
The Describe skill helps you see where objective reality ends and your mental additions begin. This creates several important shifts:
You become less reactive. When you can describe an experience without immediately interpreting it, you create space before reacting. "I notice my chest is tight and my breathing is shallow" doesn't automatically trigger the panic spiral that "I'm having a panic attack and I can't handle this" does.
You communicate more clearly. Describing facts rather than interpretations prevents countless misunderstandings. "You said you'd be home at 7 and arrived at 8" leads to very different conversations than "You don't respect my time and you obviously don't care about me."
You reduce unnecessary suffering. Much of our distress comes from the stories we layer onto events, not the events themselves. When you practice describing without interpretation, you often discover that the bare facts are more manageable than the catastrophic narratives you've been believing.
You see reality more accurately. Your interpretations are filtered through past experiences, current mood, cognitive biases, and countless other factors. Describing helps you separate what's actually happening from what you're projecting onto the situation.
How to Practice Describe
Start with external observations. Look around the room and practice describing what you see without evaluation. Instead of "That's an ugly chair," try "That chair is brown leather with metal legs." Instead of "It's a gloomy day," try "The sky is gray and overcast."
Notice how different that feels—lighter, more neutral, less charged with opinion and preference.
Move to body sensations. Close your eyes and scan your body. Describe what you notice in purely physical terms. "I notice tension in my shoulders. My jaw is clenched. There's a warm sensation in my chest. My hands feel cool."
Avoid interpretations like "My body is falling apart" or "This tension means I'm stressed." Just describe the raw sensations.
Practice with emotions. This is where it gets trickier. Try describing your emotional experience without interpreting what it means. "I notice my heart rate increasing, a hollow feeling in my stomach, and thoughts moving quickly" rather than "I'm anxious and something bad is going to happen."
You can name the emotion—"I'm experiencing anger"—but keep describing its components: "My face feels hot. My hands are clenched. I'm having thoughts about what that person said. My jaw is tight."
Describe thoughts without believing them. This is a subtle but powerful practice. "I'm having the thought that I'm going to fail" is very different from "I'm going to fail." The first is a description of mental activity. The second is treating a thought as fact.
Try prefacing thoughts with "I notice I'm thinking..." or "The thought 'I'm worthless' just appeared." This creates healthy distance between you and your mental content.
Use neutral language. Replace evaluative words with descriptive ones:
- Instead of "good" or "bad" → describe specific qualities
- Instead of "always" or "never" → describe frequency or specific instances
- Instead of "should" or "shouldn't" → describe what is
- Instead of labeling people → describe specific behaviors
Stick to what you can verify. If you can't observe it directly, you're probably interpreting. You can see someone frowning, but you can't see that they're angry at you. You can notice you feel scared, but you can't know for certain that danger is present.
Common Pitfalls and How to Navigate Them
Confusing feelings with facts. "I feel like you don't care about me" is not a description—it's an interpretation. Better: "I notice I'm having feelings of hurt and thoughts that you don't care. I observe that you haven't called in three days."
Sneaking judgments into descriptions. "He rudely interrupted me" contains judgment. More accurate: "He began speaking while I was mid-sentence." The facts can speak for themselves without the evaluative labels.
Mind-reading. "She thinks I'm incompetent" is not something you can observe—it's a story. You can describe what she said or did, but her internal thoughts are not accessible to you.
Overgeneralizing from single instances. "This always happens to me" is interpretation. Better: "This has happened three times that I can recall" or "This is happening right now."
Describing only negative aspects. If you only describe problems while ignoring neutral or positive elements, you're selecting data to fit a narrative rather than describing reality fully. Practice balanced describing.
Getting caught in "why." "He did that because he's selfish" moves from description into interpretation. You can describe actions without needing to explain motives: "He took the last piece of pizza without asking if anyone else wanted it."
Describe in Different Contexts
During conflict: Before reacting in an argument, practice describing what the other person actually said, not what you think they meant or what their tone implied. "You said you would handle the dishes" versus "You promised and then broke your promise because you don't respect me."
This doesn't mean you can't address tone or implications—but start with accurate description of what's verifiable, then explicitly name your interpretation: "You said you'd handle the dishes. When you didn't, I interpreted that as not prioritizing what's important to me. I'd like to check if that's accurate."
With anxiety: Anxiety thrives on interpretation and prediction. Counter it with description. "My heart is racing, my breathing is shallow, I'm having thoughts about worst-case scenarios" is much more manageable than "I'm having a panic attack and I'm going to lose control and everyone will think I'm crazy."
The described version is just body sensations and mental activity—something you've experienced before and survived. The interpreted version is a catastrophe.
When triggered: Triggers often involve confusing past and present. Describing what's actually happening right now—"I'm in my kitchen, it's Tuesday afternoon, I'm safe, and I just heard a loud noise"—helps anchor you in current reality rather than past trauma.
In relationships: "I notice I haven't heard from you in two days and I'm having feelings of worry" opens dialogue much more effectively than "You're obviously avoiding me." The first describes your experience; the second assumes you know what's happening for the other person.
During urges to engage in harmful behaviors: "I'm having an urge to cut. I notice this urge has a quality of intensity. My hands feel restless" describes the experience of the urge without acting on it or spiraling into shame about having it.
The Liberation in "Just the Facts"
There's something profoundly freeing about learning to describe without interpretation. It's like discovering you've been carrying a backpack full of rocks—the rocks being all your stories, judgments, and assumptions—and suddenly realizing you can set it down.
The bare facts of most situations are much less overwhelming than the elaborate narratives we construct. "I sent a text and haven't received a response yet" is a simple fact. "They're ignoring me because they've decided I'm annoying and they're probably telling their friends what a burden I am" is a torture chamber constructed by interpretation.
When you practice Describe, you're not denying your interpretations or pretending they don't exist. You're simply distinguishing them from observable reality. This distinction is extraordinarily clarifying.
You might discover that many of your worst fears are based on interpretations, not facts. That what you've been calling "rejection" is actually someone being busy. That what you labeled as "catastrophic" is actually uncomfortable but manageable.
Combining Describe With Other Skills
Describe works beautifully alongside other mindfulness and DBT skills:
Describe + Observe: First observe with your senses (Observe skill), then put words to what you noticed (Describe skill). This creates a fuller picture of present-moment reality.
Describe + Non-judgmental stance: Describe is essentially applied non-judgment. Instead of evaluating everything as good/bad, right/wrong, you simply describe what is.
Describe + Mindfulness of emotions: When working with difficult emotions, describe their physical components, their intensity, their changes over time—without getting lost in stories about what the emotions mean.
Describe + Radical acceptance: Describing reality accurately is often the first step toward accepting it. You can't accept what you won't even see clearly.
Describe + Interpersonal effectiveness: In DEAR MAN (another DBT skill), you Describe the situation factually before expressing how you feel and making a request. This prevents conflicts from immediately escalating into accusations and interpretations.
Practicing Throughout the Day
The beauty of Describe is that you can practice it constantly, in tiny moments:
Waiting in line: Instead of "This is taking forever and the person at the counter is incompetent," try "I've been waiting for approximately five minutes. There are three people ahead of me. The transaction at the counter is ongoing."
Stuck in traffic: Not "This traffic is unbearable and ruining my day," but "Traffic is moving slowly. I've traveled one mile in ten minutes. I notice frustration arising."
After receiving feedback: Replace "My boss hates me and thinks I'm terrible at my job" with "My boss pointed out three specific errors in my report and asked me to revise it."
When someone seems upset: Instead of "They're mad at me and I've done something wrong," try "I notice they're speaking in shorter sentences and haven't made eye contact. I'm having thoughts that they might be upset."
Each of these small practices builds your capacity to see clearly rather than through the distorting lens of interpretation.
The Long-Term Impact
Over time, practicing Describe changes not just how you respond to specific situations, but how you move through the world. You become more curious and less certain. More open and less defensive. More able to reality-test your thoughts rather than automatically believing them.
You discover that you can have catastrophic thoughts without catastrophizing—because you can describe the thoughts as mental events rather than accurate predictions. You can feel intense emotions without being overwhelmed—because you can describe their physical components without believing the stories they generate.
Your relationships improve because you're responding to what people actually say and do rather than to your interpretations of hidden meanings. Your anxiety decreases because you're not constantly adding layers of dire interpretation to neutral events.
Perhaps most importantly, you develop trust in your ability to see reality clearly. This trust is foundational. When you know you can distinguish facts from fiction, observations from interpretations, what is from what you fear, you become much more capable of navigating whatever life presents.
A Final Word
Learning to Describe is like learning a new language—the language of direct experience, unfiltered by the constant commentary of your interpreting mind. At first it feels awkward and unnatural. Your mind wants to evaluate, explain, predict, and judge. That's its job.
But with practice, something shifts. You find yourself pausing before reacting, checking whether you're responding to facts or to stories. You catch yourself catastrophizing and can say, "Wait, what's actually happening here?"
You discover that reality—just as it is, without your additions—is often much more workable than the versions you've been believing.
The next time you notice yourself spiraling into anxiety, anger, or despair, try this: Describe what you can actually observe right now, in this moment, without adding interpretation. Just the facts. Just what's here.
You might be surprised by how much lighter reality feels when you're not carrying the weight of all your stories about it.
That lightness? That's the beginning of freedom.




