Are We All a Little Agoraphobic?

I had a thought today that changed my mood from somber and seeking isolation to a gregarious smile that I trapsed around the walking path of my favorite park. This thought has stuck profoundly within my head, and I’d like to share it with you. 

We are all, to some degree, a little agoraphobic, don’t you think? There is an innate fear of society, its’ judgements, and its’ stress-inducing nature caused by one or two or many bad experiences. These have caused us to develop an unnatural flight-only response to the types of people or certain places in which we have had those experiences.

For me, the precursor to this experience was when a student of mine had seen the bottom of a tattoo I have on my forearm. I almost always wear long sleeves to work, partly because I believe the button-up and cardigan is far more professional than the t-shirt and sweatsuit many of my colleagues arrive to work wearing and partly because I’m self-conscious about my body and try to layer-up so that I can feel like the unattractive parts are covered up. Most days, my face, neck, and hands are all that show from the moment I leave the house to the moment I return. But a student had seen some of my tattoo and was shocked that I had any. For that student, he said that he hadn’t ever seen a white teacher with tattoos. I didn’t believe him, but I wasn’t about to dispute that. He then asked to see my tattoos and I said, “Well I have quite a few. If the class wants a little show and tell, I don’t mind showing them all to you guys.” 

I believe it was the word “all” that piqued their interest because then the entire class was leaning forward in their seats, wanting to see what tattoos I had. So, I started small and showed them the tattoos one my leg. We had a good laugh at my fading Nike swoosh tattoo, but they then enjoyed my Dr. Seuss quote and cracked-stone-yet-not-broken taurus zodiac symbol on the back of my calf.

They then asked if that was it, and I said no. I proceeded to take my cardigan off and then unbutton my top-shirt down to my short sleeve beneath. When I had taken off my two top layers, a student from the back of the room said, “Woah, Mr. Nolan, you a little fat.”

I didn’t hesitate but was interrupted by another student who slapped that kid upside his head for being rude. I simply said, “Yeah, I’ve put on a few.” My face got red, they told me, but I went on and showed them the numerous tattoos that cover my arms. 

I have always been conscious of my weight. That stems from my father, who died only a year prior to this incident from obesity and heart failure. So, it is safe to say that my weight, although I am not obese, nor fat, has always been a sore subject for me. Since then, my weight has fluctuated, but today sits at much higher than it should be. 

Now, I mention agoraphobia because I realized something today. I had heard this before, but I never actually knew what it meant. Agoraphobia isn’t exactly the fear of places and situations that might cause panic, helplessness, or embarrassment, it’s not necessarily the fear of being out within society, but it is the compounded fear of all those things. It isn’t the store that scares us, but the panic we feel when we can’t find parking, which onsets our stress, which then speeds up our heartrate, which then causes us to believe we might have a heart attack, which then causes us to turn around and go home and deem the store a dangerous place. In that same regard, it isn’t being fat that scares me, but the judgement someone may voice to me or the look on their face that I might put words to that makes me feel insecure. That feeling might be the reason why I stay home and eat that extra meal before my girlfriend comes home and we share dinner together. That feeling might be the reason why I take in those extra calories and put on those extra pounds. It may be exactly that fear that causes me to search for some dominance or some value and play some video games I am rather good at or create some stories that I can take my aggression out within. It isn’t actually having some extra blubber atop my muscles, it’s that damn look on that stranger’s face that I twist into something it is not.

This was the beginning of my thought, and that thought ended with a “Who the fuck cares?!!!!!”

I thought to myself very plainly, I have rarely, if ever, seen the same person twice when walking the park. If I had seen the same person, I don’t remember having done so. And it was right then that I looked in the mirror and thought, “People are more worried about themselves than they are of you. Go to the park. See that sunset, feel that breeze, and listen to your audiobook; enjoy this gorgeous day because you earned it after a long, tough week of work. Get the fuck outside and don’t let some maybe-ness bullshit stop you from enjoying your fuckin’ life.”

If you haven’t learned by now, my native New York tongue has a propensity to shout the word Fuck… 

It was this thought that got me out of the house. I didn’t tweak my outfit again, I didn’t sit and decide which pair of black running shoes would look best with gray shorts, and I didn’t look into the mirror once more, trying to determine whether my hair was clean enough to not take a shower before I – maybe – left. I felt strong. I remembered that there are so many fears and outside hindrances that are just not worth caring about.

I had heard Joe Rogan talk about how the human brain is like a hard drive. It only has a certain amount of space available every day. We must be careful with what we fill up that “hard drive” with because all our society has for use are distractions. There is just so damn much to keep us interested and off-task because it is perceived that we all are capable of managing our obligations throughout the day that we can fend off those distractions. Those of us that can’t surround ourselves with distraction that we deem worthy and make little time for the tasks that really matter.

Neil deGrasse Tyson said that he “creates” meaning within his life. He doesn’t “passively” accept whatever he can hope to find under some rock somewhere. He makes it. He learns all he can learn, and in return learns about himself, and then determines that when ambition, inspiration, and motivation run out, it is the duty he feels toward gaining a “victory for humanity” that keeps him going.

Well, those victories start in the home. You!!!! You are your home. You cannot go anywhere without yourself. You cannot ever be rid of yourself. So, make you the best you that you can be, you know? And that starts with self-love. 

Degraders are just cawing crows, and one of my best friends – the one we call Stroke – always reminds me when I am becoming one within the Murder. He does this by just cawing… It is goofy and it gets more crooked looks than laughs, but I love him for it because it is a hilarious reminder, something that plays over and over in my head every time I become one of those people. And maybe it’s because I can see myself being one of those people that I see that in everyone my eyes fall upon. They, likely, aren’t that way at all and are completely ignorant to my existence. But it is my egocentric mind that convinces me that they are all staring and judging, and that’s why I shouldn’t leave the house for any place other than the gym or salad bar.

It is when the cawing begins in my own mind, when it is directed at myself that I tend to laugh, nowadays, and especially today. I start to find that insecurity rather funny, and even though I might layer-up a little, I still leave and go to the park and enjoy myself. I might hold my hand over my belly in an inconspicuous way, but at least I left. I got out of the house, I walked, and felt tranquility. I got to see a flock of birds’ land on the bank, all six-hundred of those loud fuckers, and listen to over an hour of a book I’ve been neglecting. I got to burn some extra calories that I wouldn’t have if I stayed home. I got to go to my favorite café and see a dear friend of mine who works there. I got to breathe fresh air and write this article.

I do think it is an extreme to say that everyone is at least a little agoraphobic, but I say it because I think that, if not kept in check with a little internal cawing, our unworthy stresses will turn into fears. Then, those fears will turn phobias, and then we will turn into hermits that cut off their own wings because of… nothing…