10 Emotional Regulation Strategies for Everyday Life

Arguably the single biggest destroyer of relationships is emotional dysregulation: when we become flooded, anxious, or furious and fear that everything inside us is about to explode — and then it does. Lashing out in those moments is often the worst possible response. There are, however, ways to discharge that intensity without betraying your deeper feelings. While not a therapist, the speaker teaches concrete strategies to heal emotional dysregulation and to avoid those impulsive outbursts. Below are precise, practical instructions drawn from a much-viewed archive video on how to get intense emotions under control instantly.
There’s a common belief that healing from trauma means “feeling your feelings” — digging into them, trusting them, allowing them to surface. For people with childhood PTSD, though, the issue is frequently the opposite: feelings are felt too strongly. They become overloaded, and what’s needed is not more immersion but a way to bring those sensations back into a healthier range. Emotional dysregulation, in many cases, causes more harm than simply being numb; it can take over your life. When emotions dominate, they can overpower relationships, work, and daily functioning. Being overwhelmed by feelings that are too intense for the moment — or flaring up at the wrong times — is not solved simply by telling someone to “feel” more.
Think of emotional dysregulation as a wrecking ball or a tornado: it arrives unpredictably and can smash everything in its path. Sometimes it appears as an enormous flare-up, and other times as an abrupt shut-down — a bright flash followed by flatness and emptiness. With complex PTSD, a common pattern is that after a big eruption there is an emotional dead zone. Feelings become dysregulated — either huge spikes or numb blanks — and either extreme can lead to words and actions that only cause more pain, potentially creating new wounds and trapping you in a vicious cycle.
A familiar example: imagine an argument with a partner. Maybe they forgot about guests you invited, arrived an hour late without calling, and left you frantic and embarrassed in front of friends. You may have called and texted repeatedly, tried to hide your anger in the other room, and attempted to appear calm. Then they walk in, apologize, and the guests say it’s okay — but you explode. Old feelings of abandonment rise from the past, and your reaction contains more history than the present offense. Although the partner’s forgetfulness is annoying, the intensity of your response is fueled by earlier wounds: chest tightness, gut churn, headache and shame. In front of company, that overreaction can ruin the evening: guests become uncomfortable, someone leaves early, and later you realize you were the person who blew up. At the time it felt necessary, even righteous, but afterward the shame settles in, then perhaps a withdrawal or emotional flatness follows.
This pattern is a common consequence of growing up with trauma; it’s not a moral failing, but it’s still something people want to address because repeated overreactions erode love, trust, and closeness. Even if a partner tolerates these episodes for years, the constant, disproportionate conflict gradually corrodes connection. That’s one reason why the blanket advice to “just feel your feelings” or “express your anger” isn’t always helpful for everyone. For many with CPTSD, what helps most is learning to self-regulate — to gain enough control over emotional surges to prevent them from hijacking relationships. Having tools to calm down in the moment, even before you’ve figured everything out mentally, opens space to communicate clearly, ask questions, and voice what happened in a proportionate way: for example, “You were late for dinner and I felt embarrassed” rather than a full-blown blowup.
If you can catch emotions early and intervene, you often get a small window to prevent escalation. That’s where regulation matters: slowing the takeoff of that emotional airplane so it never leaves the ground. Once it’s airborne, it’s a much bigger problem. But with understanding and practice, staying grounded is possible.
When a strong emotional surge begins, first notice it: are you flooding with adrenaline, panicking, or starting to cry? Simply naming it — “I’m having an emotional reaction” — is a quick grounding step. Next, slow down the interaction. Anxiety makes people rush, and rushing amplifies panic; deliberately put pauses between statements, give yourself time to respond, and choose words carefully. Slowing can by itself reduce overwhelm and restore a little perspective.
If you’re on the verge of tears in a situation where crying would be difficult (at work or during a speech), try a simple visualization: imagine a dial located a little below your belly button that controls the outflow of emotion. That dial can go to 10 or 11, but picture turning it down to a two — not shutting feelings off entirely, but narrowing the opening enough to stop immediate tears. It’s like closing a gate so the spilling out is managed rather than catastrophic.
For anger, honor the old phrase “restraint of pen and tongue.” Avoid saying or writing anything in the heat of the moment — texts, emails, social posts — because venting will likely escalate your dysregulation and lead to words you’ll regret. If you must express, promise yourself you’ll do it later when calmer. Postpone the conversation politely: ask for 15 minutes, or tell someone you have another call and will return. Most people accept a brief pause, and giving yourself that time is good for everyone involved. If you feel urgent to speak, that intensity is often your trauma-driven emergency response mistaking a conversation for a life-or-death situation. Unless there’s a real crisis (someone in danger or immediate risk), pausing for 30 minutes, an hour, or even until tomorrow usually leads to better outcomes. Trying to solve complex problems while dysregulated is like trying to drive drunk — risky and unreliable.
Emergency writing is another effective tool. The speaker teaches a specific daily-writing practice (a free course available via the website’s free tools page linked in the description) designed to get fearful and resentful thoughts onto paper and ask them to be released. Putting feelings on paper before confronting another person often prevents explosive, hurtful communications. Many who were neglected as children have a deep hunger to tell someone how much they were hurt, believing the apology or care that would heal them. But in adult life, angrily unloading on someone rarely produces that idealized response; even good-intentioned people usually can’t regulate your nervous system for you. Writing is an inside job — you can do this privately, in a bathroom stall, in a movie theater, in a parked car (not while driving), at night in bed, or at your desk when a brief break will restore productivity. Using a few minutes to write and discharge emotion is typically more constructive than letting it erupt.
Physical activity can also flush stress chemicals and change the body’s state: run up and down stairs if able, take a brisk walk, or do any exercise that raises the heart rate and perhaps brings a small sweat. Sometimes physical action is the fastest way to shift a dysregulated nervous system. Another quick physical cue is washing your hands or splashing cold water on your face; savoring the sensation of warm soapy water can be grounding, returning attention to immediate sensory experience. These tactile, bodily anchors help you “be in your body” rather than living inside a runaway emotional trance. When the nervous system begins to shut down certain brain functions, sensory processing dims and you become prone to outbursts or saying things you don’t mean. Staying physically present keeps you safer — literally, if a situation is physically threatening — and supports cognitive clarity.
Emotional dysregulation often feels trance-like, as if you’re hypnotized by one overwhelming feeling while losing touch with other cues. Building the capacity to have a part of you that can step back and say, “I’m slipping into a trance,” is the key to recovery: that observing part can gently pull you out and hand you tools to re-regulate. Developing that self-awareness — just enough to pause before acting — is the path to real change.
Sometimes talking with a calm, trustworthy person helps, but avoid telling a long, heated story that simply fuels the trance further. Venting to someone who then takes you deeper into dysregulation is counterproductive. If a conversation itself is making you more agitated — speaking faster, louder, interrupting — that’s a sign to step away and use your written or physical tools to calm down before trying again. Talking while dysregulated often triggers the other person to dysregulate as well, and two dysregulated people will typically escalate the conflict. Almost everything that needs to be said can be said later, more clearly and compassionately, once you’re lucid and able to access the range of your feelings rather than only the angry part.
These methods do more than change your mood in the moment: they help re-regulate the brain and body — lowering heart rate, steadying breathing, clearing thinking, and restoring coordination. If you want to explore whether dysregulation is a pattern for you, there’s a checklist of symptoms available on the free tools page mentioned earlier.
When intense thoughts keep fluttering through your mind during re-regulation, gently remind yourself to hold the thought and instead focus on next steps: actionable behaviors, helpful words, and practical choices. This isn’t toxic positivity but a deliberate redirect toward clearer thinking. Inside you is a less emotionally charged place where you can anchor yourself — a home you can return to when things feel chaotic. Postponing expression isn’t suppression; it’s choosing a time and context where discussing feelings will actually be constructive and will strengthen, rather than harm, relationships.
When dysregulation hits, silently tell yourself, “I’m feeling disregulated,” then use your tools: stop venting, write, exercise, breathe, or take a pause. Your feelings will still be there later, intact and accessible; you’ll be in a much better position to speak from calmness — with fairness, warmth, and clarity — and to preserve and deepen your connections. Daily nervous-system work is the best way to get stronger over time.
Remember the writing practice mentioned earlier — it’s called the Daily Practice — and you can learn the full technique and more in the book Re-Regulated. Links to the book and to the free course are down in the description section or on the free tools page of the website; the free course can also be accessed by clicking right here. See you soon [Music]