I belong to several support groups on the internet for my various psychological disorders. Recently, in one of these groups, someone posted a question along the lines of…
Is it harder to have Agoraphobia when you have children?
I gave a short response, based on the fact that I’ve been Agoraphobic for ten years, and I’ve had a beautiful son for five of those. Anyway, it got me thinking, and I feel like I need to express myself a little more thoroughly on this subject. Where better to do that than here… my favorite place to get things off my chest.
It is harder. A lot harder, in my humble opinion. Before I had Chris, it was easy to avoid most situations I knew I couldn’t handle. More importantly, I could avoid things without a crushing feeling of guilt over being absent for another family event. I certainly had fewer situations to avoid or feel guilty about when I didn’t have a son of my own.
My Agoraphobia and Social Anxiety symptoms range from mild to severe.
Now, for example, my life is calm and I can function in society on a limited basis. I can drive by myself… a little. I can go to the local gas station, the bank, or to rent a movie. I can’t be out for long though… not by myself. Within 20-30 minutes, panic starts to stir and build and will eventually escalate to overwhelming proportions. At that point, I would be stuck and no longer capable of driving… or thinking clearly. Therefore, when I go out alone, it’s on a limited basis. I still shake uncontrollably in public, avoid eye contact, and am incapable of conversation… but I can go out.
When I’m at my worst, crossing the threshold of my home is all but impossible.
My knees buckle, my vision spins wildly out of control, and my hearing becomes muffled. I start to sweat profusely, my heartbeat quickens, and I’m instantly nauseous. Within seconds, the world becomes a monster, hell-bent on devouring me. I save this wonderful experience for special occasions, like doctor appointments. It’s a crippling mission for my girlfriend and I to endure. I cover my head, wear earplugs (sounds are intolerable at times), and weave in and out of fugue-states, tapping my head and counting in a crazed effort to hide from the biting reality all around me. At times like this, I pity my girlfriend for having to be seen with me… for having to love me.
Obviously, I don’t want my five-year-old son to see his daddy… his hero, acting so bizarre. So weak.
It’s because of this embarrassment that I’ve missed birthday parties, opting to sit alone in my basement… cutting myself and putting cigarettes out on my leg. I have missed entire seasons of little-league baseball. I can’t go to family functions, parties, or dinners, and my son always asks Hailey, “Why isn’t daddy going with us?” My heart shatters when they leave, and then…
I’m alone.
One of the worst parts about all this is the looming fear that I’m going to pass my strange behavior and limited existence on to my son. The thought of this haunts me day and night, and pokes at me in my nightmares on the rare occasion I sleep.
Yes… It is harder with kids.
However, there is an upside, and it’s a good one. I draw a lot of strength from Chris. Strength from his love for me, and mine for him. Strength from fear (reasonable or not) –that if I don’t handle my ailments properly, I’ll pass them on to my son. I don’t want him to be mentally ill like me, but it’s possible. He’s genetically pre-disposed, and the world’s not getting any easier to handle. I find strength from the idea that I might set a good example on how to live with psychological disorders.
I’ll never be “normal,” but because I’m a daddy, I strive to be the best mentally ill person I can be.
My attitude’s a lot different than it was a year ago. You might say I’ve come a long way, and it has so much to do with the fact that I have this special little boy in my life counting on me. I won’t let him down. I wish I could say I had this revelation the day he was born, but I’m a work in progress, and sometimes progress is rather slow.
I always, at least, try to do things that make me uncomfortable now, and I can go further than ever before. Most of the time, I still end up staying in the van when we get to the store, but sometimes I go in. I walk my son to the park down the street and play with him on the slides and swings. I may keep my head down and avoid people, but I’m proud of myself because I’m out and I’m being active with him. I’m being a dad.
My son makes me want to try the impossible, whether I succeed or not, is irrelevant (the circus last year). He makes the intolerable tolerable, and he makes my good days feel like great triumphs. His mere existence does more for me than every combination of prescription pills I’ve ever ingested. Talking with him makes me feel better than talking to any psychiatrist ever did. Loving him makes me love myself more than I was ever able to before, and his love toward me was a crucial ingredient in finally overcoming the suicidal tendencies that plagued me for twenty years.
The point I’m trying to make here is… yes, it’s harder to be Agoraphobic when you have kids…
but it’s better too :]
Written By Nathan Daniels – Visit Nathan’s Blog – Follow Nathan On Twitter & Read What Else Nathan Has Wrote For The Real Supermum Blog – Not Forgetting Check Out His Amazing Book.
