DBT: Learning to Fly

One item had been sitting on my bucket list for years.

I wanted to fly a plane.

Not ride in one.

Actually fly one.

When the opportunity finally came, I climbed into the cockpit of a crop duster. It was just me and the instructor sitting side by side, preparing for my very first flight.

As I settled into my seat, I looked down at my hands.

They were shaking.

Not just a little.

I was terrified.

I remember trying to slow my breathing, reminding myself to take one step at a time. There was no magical moment where I suddenly felt brave. There was no wave of confidence that washed over me.

I was scared from the moment we taxied down the runway until the moment we landed.

But I didn't have to stop being scared to begin.

The instructor sat beside me, calmly explaining each step.

"Push the throttle."

"Gently pull back."

"Watch your altitude."

He knew how to fly.

I didn't.

What struck me most was that he never took the controls away from me.

Could he have?

Absolutely.

If something had gone terribly wrong, he could have stepped in immediately.

But that wasn't the goal.

The goal wasn't for him to fly the plane.

The goal was for me to learn.

So I took off.

I flew.

I turned.

I landed.

Was it perfect?

Not even close.

But when we climbed out of that little crop duster, I remember feeling something I hadn't felt when I climbed in.

Pride.

Not because I had become an expert pilot.

But because I had done something I genuinely didn't think I could do.

That experience reminds me of one of my favorite DBT skills: Building Mastery.

Building Mastery is based on a simple but powerful idea:

Confidence comes after competence.

So many of us believe the opposite.

We tell ourselves:

"Once I feel more confident, I'll apply for the job."

"Once my anxiety goes away, I'll try something new."

"Once I believe in myself, I'll take the first step."

But life rarely works that way.

Confidence isn't usually what gets us started.

It's what we gain because we started.

DBT encourages us to intentionally build mastery by doing things that stretch us just beyond our comfort zone. Not because we have to become experts at everything, but because every time we successfully navigate something difficult, our brain collects evidence.

Evidence that says:

"I can learn."

"I can grow."

"I can do hard things."

Mastery doesn't require perfection.

It requires participation.

The instructor didn't expect me to fly perfectly on my first attempt.

He expected me to learn.

What if we extended ourselves that same grace?

What if we stopped measuring success by whether we got everything right and started measuring it by whether we were willing to practice?

Building Mastery isn't reserved for extraordinary experiences like flying an airplane.

It happens every day.

Having a difficult conversation you've been avoiding.

Learning a new skill.

Cooking a meal you've never made before.

Going to therapy for the first time.

Setting a healthy boundary.

Applying for a new job.

Trying again after a setback.

Every one of those moments adds another layer of confidence—not because they're easy, but because you discover you're capable of more than you realized.

Looking back, I don't remember every instruction the instructor gave me.

I don't remember every turn or every adjustment.

What I remember is climbing out of that plane and thinking,

"I actually did it."

That feeling didn't come because my fear disappeared.

It came because I stayed with the experience long enough to learn something new.

That's the gift of Building Mastery.

It reminds us that confidence isn't something we wait to find.

It's something we build, one experience at a time.

If you've been waiting to feel confident before trying something new, you may be waiting longer than you need to. DBT's Building Mastery skill teaches us that confidence grows through experience, practice, and persistence—not perfection. At Upstate Integrative Mind Counseling, we help individuals develop practical skills that build resilience, increase confidence, and create a life worth living. Sometimes the first step isn't feeling ready—it's simply being willing to learn.