How Agoraphobia Affects Our Progression

Our home is supposed to be a safe space, but what is going on when leaving feels like a threat? This is how I reinvented my agoraphobic tendencies.

Every few months, I end up stuck at home in front of my desk. I don’t go outside at all.

I’m privileged because I still live in my childhood home, and if I need something, someone can pick it up on their way home — thanks, Dad!

The thing is, there’s no need for me to leave the house. Right now it’s my last day of winter break and I go back to school tomorrow.

I’m prepared, but also horribly aware of my agoraphobia. I’m extremely comfortable in my bedroom, which is the problem.

I can do anything I want — all of my belongings are available to me with no social restrictions, and the fact makes the outside world feel dystopian.

On campus, I can’t go hide in my cocoon whenever anxiety takes over or read however long I want after finishing a difficult task.

In a public library, it’s not the norm to walk in and find someone dead asleep, taking up a whole couch. I have to respect social norms, and can’t be my neurodivergent self.

Cocoons are formed to help larvae safely metamorphize into adults. The larvae live in their cocoons for 5–21 days.¹