The Grocery Store Panic

3/2/2026

Today I barely made it through the grocery store.

All I needed were a few simple things. Nothing dramatic. Nothing complicated. And yet the moment I walked inside, my body started reacting like I was in danger.

My chest tightened.
My thoughts sped up.
I felt like I might cry right there in the aisle.

I kept telling myself, You’re fine. This is just anxiety.
But my nervous system didn’t believe me.

The lights felt too bright.
The sounds felt too loud.
Everyone seemed too close.

All I wanted to do was get back to my car.

I am on day 33 of my cycle. Normally I bleed around day 27 or 28. I’ve been cramping. My lower back aches. I’ve had brown spotting that starts and stops. Every time I think it’s beginning, it doesn’t.

That waiting is exhausting.

There’s something about the delay that makes me feel unmoored. Like I can’t land. Like my body is holding me in suspense.

I also just started clonidine at night for anxiety. The lowest dose. It’s helping in some ways. I feel slower. Less lightheaded. But today I felt drained. Uneasy because it’s new. Uneasy because I don’t fully trust anything yet.

In the middle of the store, the fear wasn’t even about anything specific.

It was this:

What if I lose control?
What if this keeps getting worse?
What if my cycles are changing for good?
What if I can’t handle this long term?

I made it through checkout.

I walked to my car.

And the second I closed the door, I wanted to cry — not because something terrible happened, but because it took so much effort just to function.

This is the invisible part of perimenopause no one talks about.
The way ordinary places can suddenly feel overwhelming.
The way your own body can feel unpredictable.
The way you can look completely normal while fighting a full internal storm.

By the time I got home, the intensity had lowered.

It always does.

That’s what I’m trying to remember — the wave peaks and then it falls.

Even when it feels unbearable in the moment.

Right now I am tired. Cramps. Heavy. Waiting.
But I made it through the store.

That counts.

Nothing catastrophic happened.
I didn’t lose control.
I came home.

Maybe this is hormonal.
Maybe it’s nervous system overload.
Maybe it’s both.

Either way, I am still here.

And tomorrow might feel different.