#avoidance

#avoidance

Daniel didn't look like a man falling apart. Pressed shirt. Polished watch. Phone buzzing every few minutes. Yet his hand trembled slightly as he reached for his coffee. "They said it was panic," he said, half whispering. "But it felt like dying." He had just left the ER after his second "heart attack that wasn't." On paper, he was the definition of success: a founder, husband, father. But inside, his mind was spinning at 200 miles per hour.

Dear Reader, I grew up in a household full of love and care-but also of elephants in the living room and eggshells I had to walk around so as not to ruffle a single feather. My parents are extremely sensitive and horrible listeners, so you can imagine how I coped: I lied. A lot. I lied to get away with things, but mostly I lied so that I wouldn't upset anyone or get into trouble.

The first time I discovered the social lubricant magic of alcohol was at a high school party. The music was loud, and I was anxious. A friend handed me a beer, told me it would help me loosen up. And it did. From then on, I learned to turn to alcohol for a little confidence boost every time the discomfort of social anxiety rises.