A support group for agoraphobia meeting downtown?

When my mom first showed me an ad for an agoraphobia support group in the newspaper, I thought it was a total joke. The group met downtown and I couldn’t see how anyone with the type of panic disorder and agoraphobia I had getting downtown. Go figure.

I attended the group a few times and it just affirmed how bad my case was compared to others. To get to the group’s meeting place downtown I had to knock myself out with Valium and lie on the floor of a van facedown while my dad drove me. Once there, sitting in a metal folding chair facing a circle of people was a lot harder than lying on the shrink’s couch. I could only stay in my seat about five minutes without feeling on the verge of a collapse from hyperventilation. I had to leave a lot to catch my breath outside in the van.

What I heard spoken in group was not inspiring at all. After several visits, I lost my motivation to go back. Most of the group members had been suffering from anxiety disorders for longer than I had been alive.

They had formed a cozy little sub-culture around their pathology with inside jokes and the whole bit. It seemed that illness had become an identity for some. It was their ticket into the sub-culture where they found a sense of belonging.

Though my symptoms were far worse than anyone’s, I wasn’t about to join the club. I didn’t want to make a life out of my anxiety disorder. I just wanted to get well. It didn’t seem healthy to spend too much time with people who seemed content with being sick.

Also, comparing myself with others discouraged me. Especially with people who claimed to have panic disorders or agoraphobia but sat through the whole group on a hard folding chair without having to leave. Maybe they were taking lots of drugs or something, but I didn’t stick with the group long enough to find out.