6.1.25
Today was a hard one. I had my first full-blown panic attack since starting recovery.
Yesterday, while I was with my sponsor, we talked about plans for the weekend. I mentioned that my best friend’s daughter’s bridal shower was today. She reminded me that emotional milestones—like finishing Step Five—can be triggers. She offered to be there if I needed to talk. I appreciated it, but I didn’t think much more about it after that. The shower wasn’t going to be a big party or drunken debauchery, so I let my guard down.
This morning, I looked up the registry link for a friend, and saw how many people had RSVP’d. That’s when the anxiety started creeping in. At the women’s meeting later, I was greeting people at the door, and a friend pointed out that I didn’t seem quite like myself. She was right. I brushed it off, determined to have a good day. I wanted to have a good day. I love starting Sundays at that meeting, and I was genuinely looking forward to celebrating this wedding with people I love.
But then, on my way home, I stopped at Walmart for a card. That’s when the panic hit. Hard. Fuck.
Out of nowhere—boom. Like a semi-truck. My heart was pounding out of my chest. I barely made it to the trash can by the cart return before I threw up. I was sweating, shaking, felt like I was detoxing all over again. Total chaos. I must’ve looked like a shitshow. Somehow, I made it to my car, blasted the AC, laid the seat back, and just… rode it out.
I didn’t drink.
I wanted to escape, but I didn’t. That means something.
This was a harsh reminder that I can’t afford to be casual with my recovery. I have to protect it. Vigorously. And what that looks like might change from day to day—but the commitment doesn’t.
I need to prep emotionally for events. I need to check in with myself, even if everything looks “fine” on the outside. I need to ask for help before I’m falling apart in a Walmart parking lot.
But I lived through it. Barely, but I did. And I stayed sober. That’s something I’ll carry into tomorrow.
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