Whatever-you-call-it-phobic

When I was 22, I was diagnosed with panic disorder — having had a three-month span of daily multiple bouts of full-blown panic attacks and the residual “I-think-I’m-going-to-have-another-one” symptoms when the attacks themselves were over. This revolving process resulted in highlighting yet another anxiety-based fear normally associated with panic, called agoraphobia. This admission ensures my eternal hate of all things to do with waiting in lines, cramped elevator spaces, grocery stores (especially with banks!) and the propensity for being locked inside hatchback automobiles.

I am agoraphobic. While rather mild and more grossly associated with, well, “gross” (ie: germophobic), this is a strange conundrum compared to what most people “see” once they know me.

Claustrophobia — which is self-explanatory — has symptoms all too common with agoraphobia, but mostly concentrates on the subsequent panic attacks that occur based on being crowded in what feels like small spaces. (I had a panic attack driving home in my own car when I was 22. Yes, it was a hatchback). Rules: Don’t put me in crowded spaces; Mr. ATM, please don’t be broken in the drive-thru lane so I have to enter Chase Bank; this lane has to move faster with the cigarette-carton purchases in the express lane; the microwave countdown timer must always end in :38; and please-oh-please do NOT jump in the elevator!! It’s the agoraphobia (this page is a bet better at defining my entire situation: fears and avoidance and all) that confuses… and creeps up, causing panic attacks (which, thankfully, I haven’t suffered from after learning meditation exercises three years ago) and the subsequent, more lingering anxiety associated with panic disorder.

There was a time period in my early 20s where I did not leave the house, save only for my “safe” work environment. I would promptly return home when my shift was complete. I lost a lot of friendships at this time — it was confusing and difficult having to explain what most others just resigned to being some sort of “flake.” The same symptoms have led me to quit school multiple times for all reasons completely unrealistic and unexplainable. (OK, perhaps the irrational break-down fear of public speaking makes more-and-more sense).

Because of the latter-mentioned phobia, many people judge and criticize to call this “laziness.” As in, “You’re so lazy because” Choose one: a) you don’t go to the grocery store b) you won’t go to the post office c) you condemn mall shopping during holiday seasons d) you refuse to wait in lines at any afore-mentioned public places, including, but not limited to the site of my very first panic attack, the bank or e) you smile willingly behind a screen name on match.com because, let’s face it, this relationship will never go beyond a few flirtatious emails — a very expensive email habit, mind you.

I have hermit-like tendencies throughout the year — eh, my winter hibernation period seems to bring about more of these avoidances (snow is a great excuse) — but the incidents themselves tend to maintain a certain sporadicity about them — which is both a good and evil struggle. The worst period of my agoraphobia hit after I had a minor accident on 71-North during the holidays a few years back. I refused to take the highway anywhere! I literally drove from Solon-to-Ashtabula ensuring all back roads were less than 50 mph — the avoidance played a large part.

Thankfully, modern technology and conveniences have provided me more “online” methods to completely rid myself of craziness I don’t want or need (ie: shopping), but I’ve now noticed new chores/errands/hobbies taking their place. Being the social butterfly I am, you would think I have pure bullshit spewing from my mouth. How does one be Cleveland’s Best Bar Fly, yet be paralyzed by the very product of her environment? (Answer: excessive amounts of alcohol and nicotine for ease of fear and anxiety symptoms). Have you been in the car with me prior to a night out — or to a family function (how can you explain being nervous going to see your own parents)? If you are not my boyfriend, likely, no, since I drive myself purposely to escape from these situations, if one of which were to arise. And it has happened, I just “have to leave” — no discussions. Most times you may not even notice I’m gone.

I hide it fairly well from people — usually just dismissing myself completely from these situations before they have the opportunity to occur. But more-and-more the anxiety increases as I wish endlessly for the trap door to open, as I would rather be in hell than one more 12-item-or-less checkout line. I somehow feel proud of myself being able to do a solitary Blockbuster rental and quick-food supermarket run… but in the end it all just seems so wasted. I can’t speak in public — it’s a requirement to head to Rascal House to down two tall-boys before any attempt at class presentation and then I still can’t remember what the hell I’m talking about no matter I spent months in preparation; I am completely nervous in group settings with people I don’t know (and shake and perspire and my cheeks all but flush out… and yes, pass out); I cannot converse in discussions with bosses or management or negotiate with potential hiring entities… my brain, my thought process, it just gets all muddled. I can’t just chalk it up to possessing a creative mindset anymore.

Welcome to Mel, the walking contradiction. But I won’t walk anywhere because, like, something might happen too far from home and I wouldn’t have any Xanax on me.

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