Honey you absolutely can get over this. For nearly 2 years I couldn’t go outside on my own. I would shake, cry and the fear was overwhelming, sickening. That was the part I couldn’t explain to anyone, not even my hubby. What was I afraid of? did I think the world was dangerous? did I think there was someone waiting to hurt me outside? Did I think I would be attacked/murdered/etc? no to them all. I was simply engulfed in this wave of fear at the thought of the outside, and it was so strong it completely incapacitated me.
After almost two years of living (not living, my world was the size of my house) I made a concious decision that I wanted it to stop. I wish I could tell you that I took a magic pill, clicked my heels together twice and have been fine ever since but it just doesn’t happen like that honey. I can remember leaving marks in my hubbys arms with my nails because I was gripping his arm so tightly (and what did he do when this happened? he used his other arm and wrapped it round me so tight till I felt safe again). I remember opening the front door just a little when he was at work and peeping outside shaking and gripping the door so hard it was as if the world would fall away if I let go. Eventually, after what felt like such a long time, I was able to open the door and sit on the bottom of the stairs (which faced the front door) and look outside. Not actually go outside though, there was still an invisable glass wall, a force field of my brain’s making, across the front door that kept me prisoner.
All this time I would be making (very) short accompanied trips outside occassionally, but during the day when I was alone except for my fur babies, I would set myself these goals. OK, today I’ll manage to have the door open for 5 minutes while sitting on the stairs. What if tomorrow I try for just a minute or two longer? Eventually I was able to stand on the door step. Again building up the time I could be there. Then it was standing on the first paving stone of the pathway to the door. You get the idea? I reached the garden gate and could stand there (gripping the gate so tightly I would hurt my hands, but still it felt like such a victory). That led to opening the gate just a little, to walking to the nearby lamp post, touching it and walking (running) back to the safety of the garden and the house. As I said, it was a procession of little tiny victories which took me a little at a time ever so slightly further outside of “my world”. There was the local library at the end of our road at the time and I remember the day I reached it, I held the corner of the building, shaking and crying because I was happy/scared/god knows what. I did it again the next day, and then the next again, and this time I went inside and sat down on a chair (fell into would be more accurate) in a little reading area. I must have looked a sight because one of the librarians came over, she was such a sweet lady. I remember she came over, looked at me, then pulled out a chair and sat down next to me, then she did the kindest thing. She put a hand on top of one of mine (both my hands were on the table in front of me and were shaking terribly) and she said “well, you made it”. I couldn’t even say anything to her and I didn’t even have to. She said she’d seen me twice, (the last time had been the day before). She told me the first time she’d glanced through the glass doors and had noticed me, and had watched but instead of coming inside, I had just stood still and held the wall, and then turned round and walked away again. she said when she’d seen me do the same thing again the day before, she had guessed what I was doing, and she’d hoped I was going to come inside. She squeezed my hand again and said “well, you’re here now” and I just cried and felt very stupid. This lovely lady who didn’t even know me, handed me a cotton handkerchief from her pocket and told me about her sister. She told me her sister had been ill for a long time and had gone through a similar process but now she worked in an office in town and I’d beat it too. “and besides” she said “now you’ve got a friend to visit”.
The next day, I had a mission. I had carefully washed and ironed her cotton hankerchief and set off to return it. Which I did, and we talked, I thanked her and told her how grateful I was for her being so kind, and told her a little about me, what had caused me to get ill, how hard it had been to do stuff that other people did. She asked me what my next goal was. She said I should think of the library as part of a chain, and I should try to keep making the chain longer and longer. I should pick somewhere now, pick a shop (when you turned the corner out of our street there were a few little shops scattered around, as well a local council office, an estate agent etc). She said to pick one each day to achieve, but not to forget that I had the library as a “safe place”. Nearer to where I was headed than home, so that there wasn’t the feeling of panic that set in when home went out of sight.
That lovely lady helped me so much and I always think of her as proof that angels do indeed walk amongst us. No matter what your thoughts on religion, there have always been people who appear in your life just when you need help the most. Not all angels have wings honey, some of them have very kind eyes and a cotton handkerchief just when you need it. It took me almost another two years to be able to pull on my jacket and go outside on my own, and my next goal was then to get back to work again. I won’t say that it’s all gone, because I still get the wibbles very occassionally, but I have been over four years in my daft little part time job and if I can do it honey, so can you I promise <hugs> xx
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