Trapped in My Own Mind: Living with Agoraphobia
I have always struggled with social anxiety. For the most part, it was manageable—an ever-present hum in the background of my life, but not something that completely controlled me. Then, the Covid-19 pandemic changed everything. The world shut down, and with it, so did I. What was once a quiet discomfort grew into something much louder, much more suffocating. The forced isolation of staying home, working remotely, and rarely seeing anyone outside of my household took my social anxiety and twisted it into something far worse.
At first, I convinced myself I was just adapting. Everyone was struggling with the sudden changes, so surely, I would readjust once things settled. But that shift never came. The first time I noticed how deeply it was affecting me, I was simply trying to step outside and take out the trash—something I had done countless times before without a second thought. This time, though, my heart pounded, my breath caught in my throat, and I felt an overwhelming sense of panic take hold. My body reacted as if I were in danger, even though I knew I was safe.
Over time, those feelings only worsened. I stopped trying to go outside at all unless absolutely necessary. The idea of venturing beyond the walls of my home became terrifying. And when I did have to go out, it felt impossible without support. These days, I can sometimes manage short trips on my own, but I almost always need my service dog, my partner, or my sister with me. Without them, the panic threatens to overwhelm me.
Agoraphobia isn’t just a fear of leaving home—it’s a fear that convinces you the world outside is unsafe, that you are incapable of navigating it. And even when you know, logically, that none of that is true, the fear doesn’t listen.
How It Has Changed My Life
The impact of agoraphobia reaches into every corner of my life. When I realized I needed a second job to supplement my remote work, I spent an exhausting amount of time searching for something that wouldn’t require me to be in a public setting. Eventually, I found work providing in-home assistance to individuals with disabilities—something that allows me to step outside my home without being thrown into overwhelming environments.
But my personal life has been hit even harder. I rarely see my friends, even though I miss them. My partner and I don’t go out on date nights. As a parent, I feel the weight of it more than anything. I want my children to experience the world, to go on adventures and have the freedom I sometimes feel I’ve lost. I try, every day, to push myself for their sake, but it’s a constant battle between what I want for them and what my anxiety allows me to do.
It has also deeply impacted my dating life. As a polyamorous person, meeting new partners already comes with challenges, but agoraphobia adds an entirely new layer. It keeps me trapped in a cycle—wanting connection, feeling isolated, but being too anxious to step out and find what I’m looking for. I tell myself I just need to try harder, but that’s the cruel irony of it all. If it were as simple as "just trying harder," I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place.
Agoraphobia isn’t logical. It’s like holding yourself captive, knowing you have the key in your own hands, but still being unable to unlock the door.
The Emotional Toll
There is a loneliness that comes with this condition that I struggle to put into words. It isn’t just isolation in a physical sense—it’s emotional, too. It’s missing out on life while knowing you’re the only thing standing in your own way. It’s feeling like a burden to the people you rely on. It’s guilt. Frustration. Resentment toward your own mind for making something as simple as walking out the door feel like an impossible task.
Some days, the weight of it is unbearable. Other days, I can manage. I remind myself that I am trying. That even though progress is slow, it is still progress.
Fighting Back, One Step at a Time
I work closely with my therapist, who has encouraged me to take small steps toward regaining control over my life. Exposure therapy is a challenge, but I’m working on it. I set goals for myself—tiny challenges that might seem insignificant to others but mean everything to me.
Recently, I found a local convenience store where I feel comfortable enough to go inside for my morning coffee. It’s a small thing, but it’s a win. A moment where I stepped outside of my fear, even if just for a few minutes.
And that’s what I want others to know: small victories matter. If you’re struggling with agoraphobia, don’t underestimate the importance of those tiny steps. Each one is a piece of the larger puzzle, a crack in the walls that this fear has built around you.
I won’t pretend I have all the answers. I don’t know when—or if—this fear will ever fully release its grip on me. But I do know that I am more than my agoraphobia. And if you’re reading this, feeling trapped the way I do, I want you to know—you are more than your fear, too.
Progress isn’t about perfection. It’s about persistence. And even on the days when it feels impossible, you are still moving forward.
