By Charlotte Amelia Poe
I’m back in my agoraphobia era. Which is frustrating to tell you, believe me, because I lost
most of my twenties to this. And yet? The idea of leaving the house isn’t –
It isn’t scary, it just isn’t possible. It’s like asking me to fly or turn into a bug or something. I
don’t know how to do it, I can’t make myself do it, and no amount of believing in myself will
change that.
“Agoraphobia is a fear of being in situations where escape might be difficult or that help
wouldn’t be available if things go wrong.”
When I was a teenager, I went through the worst four years of my life, trapped in a situation I
couldn’t leave, aided and abetted by everyone around me, all of whom couldn’t understand
why I was putting up such a fuss. There are people I blame and people I don’t blame, and
sometimes that gets mixed up in my head, but the end result was that going outside got
really, really hard for a really, really long time.
Because help hadn’t been available when things went wrong, and escape had been difficult.
I wonder what you picture when you imagine someone who is agoraphobic. It’s a difficult
thing to imagine, isn’t it? Because of course, you rarely see these people. You don’t exactly
bump into them in the streets. They could be anybody, the spaces on the pavements where
they should be.
I’m a writer, it’s what I do, I write about disability and gender, and sometimes werewolves,
and you know what? I’m not terrible at it. It’s a skill, like any other, and I’ve been chipping
away at it over the years, figuring out how words work and what’s going to hit and what isn’t.
It’s a constant work in progress, but it’s nice to look back five years and to see how far I’ve
come.
The thing about writing, though, is that it’s, by its very nature, very solitary. Not really a group
opportunity, and unless you’re in a city, not much chance to meet other writers.
Which actually suits me just fine, most of the time, but god, I feel the ache of it sometimes.
Now, especially.
See, I don’t actually know how you break the pattern once you’re in the midst of
agoraphobia. I suppose you just – go outside. But I don’t think I’m there quite yet. I want to
be, god I do. I missed my little brother’s wedding. I’m not proud of that.
I’m afraid of causing a scene. What if I pass out, or get sick, or have a panic attack? What if
my brain screams at me that I’m going to die? What if I can’t go home?
What if I can’t go home?
I think having experienced what it’s like to not be able to go home, it sets a precedent. It’s
not an irrational fear, because it actually happened. And it could happen again.
It did, and that’s why I am where I am now.
I did get myself home, that was all me, but it’s cold comfort. I shouldn’t have had to, and I
don’t know if I trust myself enough to do it again. It’s awful, the things anxiety whispers to
you, isn’t it?
I want to be brave! But being brave is exhausting, and I’ve been brave so many times and it
doesn’t get easier. I thought it was supposed to. But it never does. And I’m tired of being
scared and of not being able to breathe properly and my vision scudding, and my legs
feeling like they’re about to fold beneath me.
I will leave this box, these four walls, again. Like, I know that I won’t be inside forever. But
there really is no timeline for this. And that, well, quite frankly, that sucks.
If agoraphobia is a monster, then it is one that digs its teeth into your ankles and pulls you
back into the house when you run for the front door. It pins you with its claws and wrestles
your shoes off. It doesn’t hurt you, but it doesn’t like you very much, either.
This is impossible to explain. Like any other ghost, I have to rely on static signals to talk to
you. I can’t make myself clear. But know that I’m at the window, staring out, hoping that I can
rejoin the living soon.
Boo.
Charlotte Amelia Poe (they/them) is an autistic nonbinary author from England. Their first book, How To Be Autistic, was published in 2019. Their debut novel, The Language Of Dead Flowers, was published in September 2022. Their second novel, Ghost Towns, was self published in 2023. Their second memoir, (currently untitled), will be published in 2024. Their poetry has been published internationally.
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