Five things you can see
Name them out loud if you can, silently if you cannot. Not categories — specifics. Not 'a wall' but 'the mark above the light switch'. Detail is what forces attention outward, and vagueness is what lets it slide back in.
Grounding is not calming down. It is returning attention to the present when it has detached — from the room, from your body, or from the current decade. Those are different problems from distress, and they need a different tool.

Five senses, descending count. Slower than you think it should be — speed is what makes it fail.
Name them out loud if you can, silently if you cannot. Not categories — specifics. Not 'a wall' but 'the mark above the light switch'. Detail is what forces attention outward, and vagueness is what lets it slide back in.
Physical contact, not emotion. Feet in shoes, the chair against your back, fabric at your wrist, air temperature on your hands. This is the step that puts you back into a body, which is the step dissociation removed.
Including the boring ones — a fridge, traffic, your own breathing. Ordinary sound is evidence of an ordinary present, which is the argument you are making to yourself.
Hardest of the five, and worth persisting with for that reason. If there is genuinely nothing, name two smells you would recognise instantly. Retrieval works nearly as well as perception here.
Then say where you are and what the date is, out loud. The naming is not a formality — it is the point. You have just assembled the evidence; this is the sentence that states the conclusion.
One technique does not cover the range. Using the wrong one is the usual reason people conclude grounding does not work for them.
The counted five senses above. You can follow instructions, so use the one that needs following. Two minutes, and you are usually back.
Cold water on the wrists and face, then name the room out loud. Temperature is faster than counting when attention will not hold a sequence.
Weight and pressure. Push both feet hard into the floor for ten seconds; press your palms together until your forearms shade. Sensation strong enough to be undeniable, because at this level nothing subtle registers.
Say the date, your age, and where you are, three times. Then find one object in the room that did not exist at the time you have gone back to — a phone, a charger, anything. It settles the argument physically rather than by reassurance.
Stop practising and get to another person. Grounding is a skill for staying present, not a substitute for support. If there is any risk to your safety, the crisis page lists lines that answer immediately.
Grounding fails for predictable reasons. Check these before writing the whole skill off.
Practise it twice a day when nothing is wrong. A skill you have only ever attempted at peak intensity is a skill you have never actually learned — and grounding in particular depends on the sequence being automatic before you need it.
These get used interchangeably and they solve different problems. Distraction moves attention away from something painful — useful when the pain has no immediate action attached to it. Distress tolerance is for getting through a crisis without making it worse, when the feeling is at full strength and cannot be changed yet. Grounding is neither. It brings attention back to the present when it has left, and it does not care whether the present is comfortable.
The practical consequence is that grounding is often the first move rather than the treatment. Dissociation is not something you regulate your way out of, because regulating requires being present enough to notice what you are feeling. Come back into the room first; decide what to do second.
This is also why grounding earns its place early in the book. Chapter 9's body awareness practice is the same instinct in a preventive form — noticing the physical signature of an escalation while it is still small enough to interrupt. Grounding is what you use when that noticing arrived late.
Frequency matters more than technique. Two minutes twice a day, when nothing is wrong, builds a sequence your nervous system can run without a decision. Learning it during an episode is like reading the fire instructions during the fire — technically possible, and not the plan.
You cannot regulate an emotion you are not present for.