First, psychological definition or not, in my opinion – which based on personal experience – the fear of being out in public is not the core of agoraphobia but the outward manifestation. It’s like the spots in measles. It’s the part of the illness that can be seen. It’s even where a good deal of the pain and discomfort are situated. But it isn’t the germ. The best definition I’ve ever seen is that agoraphobia is a “fear of fear.” But then you have to look at the word fear. The dictionary defines fear as “a state of agitation or anxiety, a feeling of disquiet or apprehension.” Everybody knows about fear. We are all afraid of something. Some of us are afraid of bugs. (I am.) Some of us are afraid of losing our jobs. Some of us are afraid of not being able to get one.
I grew up in a home with an alcoholic father, a mother who was not capable of much warmth or support, and a brother who was rage-filled and sadistic. The only sane person in my family was my sister and she was stabbed to death 12 years ago by a 16-year old boy who “wanted to kill someone.” I grew up with fear as a silent companion and it took a lot more than a little fear to keep me down.
Agoraphobia is not about fear. It is about terror. Sourceless, faceless terror. People do not hide in their homes for years at a time because they are afraid. They hide because they are paralyzed with terror, because they are so panic stricken that they can’t breathe or think, and because the enemy has no name or clear identity that allows for negotiation or even confrontation. Many agoraphobics have panic attacks when they go out in the world. Their hearts race, they hyperventilate. I had my panic attacks at home. My outside the house panic took the form of a kind of mental and physical paralysis. My muscles would go rigid so that my legs and back became agonizingly painful and my brain shut down into what I think of as “deer in the headlights” syndrome. I’m sure I produced enough adrenaline to fuel a small army for several days. And on some level my brain, though frozen in it’s tracks, was also racing. It was convinced that I was going to die and so was I, even though I knew that I was really in no danger. That was my agoraphobia. It had nothing to do with open spaces and to call it fear is like equating a mouse and a charging rhinoceros.
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