The Irony of an Agoraphobics' Support Group

This morning I had the Ellen Degeneres show on while I checked email and read blogs. I don't usually watch that show, but the TV was already on channel 10 when I turned it on, and I really only wanted it on for noise so it didn't matter what was on. Her first guest was some guy from Grey's Anatomy, and I didn't pay any attention to that. She announced her second guest - the Southern chef Paula Dean - and I prepared to change the channel. I don't know why, but I've had a serious aversion to her....more so than Rachael Ray, even....despite my loyalty to most things southern. I'm really easily bothered by weird voices or extreme accents, somehow, so you can see why I don't particularly like them. Other than that, though, I don't know what my problem was with them, and I wasn't particularly in the mood to hear Paula as I was trying to read about the squirrels outside Becca's house and children saying the pledge of allegiance. As they played the little blurb of what they were going to talk about during the interview, though, I dropped the remote and suddenly became very attentive. Apparently, Paula Dean had a 20-year bout with agoraphobia.

Having been officially diagnosed with agoraphobia (in the Greek, "fear of the marketplace"), and knowing that agoraphobia is something that is managed and not really ever cured, I became very interested in what I had previously wanted to avoid. I had to hear what she had to say. Agoraphobia is one of those things that comes with a stigma. It's kind of like depression used to be (and still kind of is, in some circles). The view is that it's a mental thing - something you can set your mind to getting over and it's not really a problem. People think it's irrational and doesn't make any sense if they've never been there, and they therefore think it's not real. Because of that - and the prevailing thought that people who struggle with mood disorders are somehow weak and/or crazy - most people who have this kind of problem don't want to talk about it. The fear is that people will look at you differently if they know. (That fear, for me, was a big factor in keeping me in my hole. If I didn't go out, people wouldn't have to know. If I didn't go out, there was no risk of having a panic attack in front of people.) It probably goes without saying, then, that when I hear someone openly talk about agoraphobia or depression or anxiety disorder, I kind of pounce on them. I always want to hear what they have to say.

And what she said was all very true. Being a talk show with other guests, there wasn't a lot of time for her to elaborate on what she went through, but she did say some things that made me throw my hands up in the air and shout, "Thank you!" It helps so much to have people come out and say things that clear the air or clarify what it's all about. It's kind of like when Brooke Shields was so open in talking about her postpartum depression. Other women realized they weren't crazy and were willing to talk about it themselves, and the stigma has lessened (no thanks to people like Tom Cruise, who have to open their big mouths and say what they think about the whole thing when they really have no idea). It helped me a lot.

One of the ladies from the Women of Faith Conferences - Patsy Clairmont - dealt with the same thing, and she has been very open about it in her books and devotionals. I actually wrote to her once, and she sent me a bunch of things that helped her through it and encouraged me with her own story. It's so amazing how, as Becca recently pointed out that Solomon said, there's nothing new under the sun. If you're going through something, there is always someone out there who has been through the same thing. The song "Lean On Me" says that no one can share the burdens that you don't let show, and that resonates deeply with me. Agoraphobia's curse is that it drives you into a hole, and unless you live with someone else who has the same problem, there's no empathy there. Sympathy -yes, but no empathy. No one understands like someone who has been there, but the mind of someone with a mood disorder convinces the person that no one needs to know. If we don't talk about it, no one will know and no one will judge us. Unfortunately, though, that also means that no one can help us.

A support group for agoraphobics, then, is most ironic. Much-needed and invaluable, but ironic.