The “pink cloud” is a term often used in early sobriety to describe a euphoric phase, a time when everything feels amazing and easy, as if you’re floating in a soft, rosy haze. Not everyone experiences it, and it can hit people at different times, but when it does, it’s a magical period. For me, it began around a month and a half into sobriety and lasted until five months, when it imploded suddenly.

I was feeling grounded, getting better sleep, and becoming more in touch with myself and others. I was enjoying sobriety, but I’ll never forget when the cloud burst. I went out with friends, something I had done before without issue, but this time was different. As soon as I stepped into the bar, the room felt claustrophobic, the noise deafening. My heart raced, my chest tightened, and my thoughts scattered. Looking back, I recognize it as an acute stress response, but at the time, I had no idea what was happening. I barely interacted with anyone and left early, retreating home to bury myself under blankets in a dark room.

I can’t pinpoint exactly why it happened, but I now believe it was because a deeper part of me realized that I was serious about sobriety this time. My mind was no longer holding on to the idea that drinking would be an eventual escape from my emotions and anxieties. Instead, I had to face them head-on, and they came crashing in all at once. That night felt like my psyche was renegotiating everything, realizing that alcohol was no longer an option or escape away from myself, and that realization was overwhelming to say the least.

Unfortunately, that experience wasn’t a one-time thing. The anxiety and panic attacks persisted for about three months, especially in social settings. I would go numb and just do my best to ride it out, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. It felt like trying to break a wild horse. Sometimes I got bucked off, but over time, I got better at holding on.

One of the most essential tools I used during this period was, kind of the nose, but running. I found that the physical, rhythmic movement of running helped me knead the anxiety and stress out of my body, like wringing out a wet shirt. I needed that consistent motion to allow the release to happen. It became a space where my body could process what my mind was struggling to deal with or to even understand. Running gave me a sense of release that I couldn’t get anywhere else, and it helped to gradually wear down the intensity of the anxiety.

Thankfully, I was also in therapy and attending AA meetings, which provided critical support during that challenging time. I’m not sure how I would have navigated that period without those spaces. The intensity of the anxiety gradually lessened, and I started learning more and more what it meant for me to live life on life’s terms. I realized that I couldn’t control whether it was good or bad; I just had to deal with it as it came.

While the pink cloud was an amazing experience, its end marked the beginning of deeper emotional work for me. The shift was disorienting and challenging, but it also pushed me to confront the root of my anxiety and develop tools to manage it in healthier ways. Looking back, the loss of that initial euphoria wasn’t a setback, it was a critical turning point in my recovery, one that ultimately led to more lasting and meaningful growth. Sobriety for me isn’t about escaping or erasing discomfort but learning to lean into, invite it in the room, and that’s where the real transformation happens.