D e s e r t E x p o s u r e
February
2009
Breaking Out
If you suffer from emotional agoraphobia, you can
find ways to set yourself free.
By Bina Breitner
I'd like to propose a psychological symptom called "emotional agoraphobia." The dictionary defines agoraphobia as "an abnormal fear of being in an open space" (the Greek open-air marketplace, where political meetings often took place, was the agora.) We use "agoraphobic" to describe people who are afraid to leave their homes, which is the same idea.
"Emotional agoraphobia" shows up often, but the most vivid example I've encountered as a therapist involved a woman in her forties (we'll call her Diane) whose life looked normal. She insisted, however, that she was "stuck" inside herself, "afraid to move." She'd been athletic as a youngster, and she knew she was coordinated, but she felt she was always holding herself in, physically, emotionally and energetically.
She didn't do any sports, she didn't exercise, she moved slowly, she didn't offer opinions, she withheld sex from herself and her partner, she tried not to ask for anything from other people, she was passive in her professional life, and she generally described herself as "reactive" rather than "proactive." She always waited for others to set the tone or the program, and she either followed along or kept silent.
Since she was a strong, smart woman, this behavior didn't make sense — that is, until we spoke about her history and the way her environment had trained her (and she had trained herself) to fit in.
Diane had been criticized a lot as a child, especially for her soft round body, which didn't meet the family's ideal physical type. She'd also been sexually abused. She said her parents hadn't been interested in what she was feeling. Her father had been brusque and insensitive to his effect on others (one of the reasons, along with his infidelities, that Diane's mother had divorced him). Even when no one was hurting Diane's feelings actively, they hurt her feelings by ignoring her. It made sense that she'd learned to keep herself under wraps.
As she put it, "I locked myself in a prison and threw away the key." She hadn't hidden physically in the house, but she'd just as effectively locked up her life energies: her feelings, her needs, her sexuality, her sense of physical joy in movement, her professional assertiveness, and any sense of deserving to take her place in the world. Her goal was to be invisible and pliant — that way she wouldn't set off unpleasant reactions from the people around her. (She chatted easily, but she didn't say anything of consequence that came from her true self.)
In one of our sessions, she remembered her mother telling her about a brief bout of agoraphobia, during which the mother had been physically unable to leave the house. Her husband (Diane's stepfather) had held her arm and walked her a few steps down the block and back, then to the corner and back, then to the second corner and back. Diane's mother trembled and perspired the whole time, but she'd done it. She'd also gone into counseling. Her agoraphobia disappeared. Diane was intrigued to realize her emotional agoraphobia resembled her mother's temporary physical agoraphobia. And since her mother had gotten over it, maybe there was hope for her, too.
I asked her how it would feel to realize that the prison in which she'd cramped herself was no longer locked. What if the door had been magically unlocked when she reached adulthood — say, when she left for college in another state? What if it had been open now for more than 20 years, and she was free to walk out?
Diane's entire body froze in fear. The voices inside screamed at her: "Don't do it! You'll be punished! Men will rape you! People won't like you — they only like you because you never challenge them. You don't have the right to ask for more. If you do sports, you could hurt yourself. . . ." The so-called reasons not to walk out of her prison cell seemed infinite. They were all products of her earlier abuse and neglect, trying to protect her, promising that silence and emotional camouflage would keep her safe. (Of course they hadn't, but a child has to believe there's some hope for safety.)
The logic went like this: Staying imprisoned helps me be safer; therefore, leaving my prison is dangerous. No wonder Diane didn't want to "go out into the world" as an energetically expressive woman.
What could she do to help herself? The same kind of thing her stepfather had done to help her mother. Instead of a brief walk to the corner, she could begin by expressing one opinion (something she really believed) every day. It was a small step, but it took her out of hiding.
In order to express an opinion, she had to have an opinion. She had to find out what she really believed — to ask herself, and listen to the answer. From my perspective, she was beginning to "parent" herself. Her earlier parenting had been inadequate: People hadn't listened to her, taken her needs seriously, protected her from harm, and guided her. It was her job now to (belatedly) provide the parenting she needed, so she could feel safe. Then she wouldn't have to hide any longer in her self-imposed prison.
Even though she was terrified, Diane did start having opinions. Of course, expressing a real opinion to others wasn't always politically smart, nor was it the most important part of her process. Listening to herself — getting herself to trust that she could "speak up" (come into the open space) and still be safe — was the core of her growing security.
This distinction between listening to what she really felt and saying it out loud in public is important. Social functioning depends on collaboration and the coordination of a lot of people. Throwing all her feelings, her needs, her sexuality, her aggression and her opinions into the mix would have been extremely awkward and counterproductive. But she needed to honor them and try to figure out how to best take care of them.
She moved on from opinions to physical expression of herself. And each time she did something scary, she was amazed. She'd done a forbidden thing and nothing bad had happened! She realized the fears were part of her memory, her habit of "emotional agoraphobia." The fears had been valid once upon a time, and imprisoning herself had helped her feel safe, but now they were wisps of imagination she could blow away.
Diane began hiking with a friend. She joined an exercise program. She gradually reopened her sexuality. She reconsidered what she wanted from her work. She decided to meditate briefly every morning. It really didn't matter what she decided to do — the point was that she "moved." She stepped out of her emotional prison, into the sunlight of her own life.
Bina Breitner, MA, is a licensed marriage and family therapist in private practice at 808 West 8th St., Silver City. She can be reached at 538-4380.