Elephants in the Living Room and Other Mysteries - Part Two
Well, we left off last time with your typical agoraphobic dragging an elephant (sometimes a rhinoceros) around on a leash and trying to pretend that nothing is out of the ordinary. The question before us is how should friends and family approach this unlikely duo and I think the answer is: “tenderly.”
I’m being silly here, but I’m also serious. A lot of the most well intentioned efforts from friends and family produce the very opposite effect from what is intended. Although on the face of it, suggesting that an agoraphobic just try going out for a short walk is a logical and practical idea, from my perspective on the many occasions when good hearted friends proposed it as a solution to my problem, it was as if they were suggesting that I take a quick jaunt up Mount Everest or jump into a pit of piranhas. Their hearts were in the right place. And the idea makes sense from a normal perspective. If you’re nervous about something, you just push past the anxiety and voila! But as I’ve discussed before, despite the anxiety label, agoraphobics aren’t trying to cope with a little nervous tension, we’re fighting mind-numbing terror, compounded by false pride and shame. And we’re dragging that damned elephant around besides. Have you ever tried to walk an elephant that doesn’t want to go somewhere? It’s very difficult.
So, the “just do it” theory of recovery doesn’t work with agoraphobia; it just piles new helpings of shame onto plates already overflowing with self-recrimination and self-hate. Beloved friends, if I could have gone for a short walk, don’t you think I would have?
It’s easy to judge behavior that makes no sense to you. It’s frustrating to have your own life disrupted because someone you care about is fighting demons that aren’t there. If you are a caretaker for someone profoundly agoraphobic, it can be painful to watch. It can be exhausting. It can be logistically cumbersome to make a household function when one member is trapped inside. In my research this week I read some letters from caretakers that told agonizing stories… a wife who not only couldn’t leave the house, she couldn’t even leave the bedroom unless her husband was at home. He was a brave soul who stuck it out and eventually the story has a happy ending. What courage to stay present for someone in such pain. And that’s probably the greatest gift that friends and family can give. Not rah-rah, you can do it speeches and not simplistic answers, not judgment or anger. What really helps is compassion. An open heart. A willingness to listen. Sometimes the best gift we can give someone is a willingness to be present with them right where they are physically and emotionally. I’ve heard it called “holy listening,” and I think that’s a good description of it. You can’t solve someone else’s problems for them, even if you love them. But you can be a steady presence while they find their way through their pain and confusion to the other side. Read everything you can about panic attacks so that you can begin to understand what your loved one is going through. Talk to them. Though the source of panic is invisible, the panic and terror are real.
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