All mothers love their children and God knows I love mine, but when you suffer from Agoraphobia or Panic Disorder it is sometimes difficult to give totally of yourself. The inner turmoil and confusion that you battle with every day leaves little room for anything else. Your every waking hour is consumed with the thought that you must get through yet another day.MY CHILDREN & ME 
I wanted to do more for my children besides keeping them fed and clothed. I wanted to take them for walks, to the circus, shopping, but I was unable to do this. If someone else couldn't take them to those places, they stayed at home. I would understand their anger and try to make excuses for my not being able to go with them but I know they didn't understand.
I never missed a graduation or play at their school although I had to be accompanied there. Sometimes with an anxiety level of '10', I managed to stay in my seat for I couldn't bear to disappoint them that way. There would be days when I found it very difficult to show them the love that I felt for them. When they would rush in from school and relate some incident or other, I would want to scream, to tell them to be quiet, but I never did. I sat there and listened while my body trembled and hoped they wouldn't notice.
I was always relieved when their bedtime rolled around. They would be safe for the night and I could relax the tight hold I had on myself.
There were times when I thought they would be better off without me, that they deserved a mother who could do things with them. I thought I must be a terrible embarrassment to them, because I'm sure they compared me with their friends' mothers and this made me feel so bad that I shed many tears.
With my anxiety constantly at a high level, I know now that my thinking this way was quite normal and it was also normal for me to feel resentment for the demands my children made on me. Under the circumstances, I know I did a good job raising them. And I tried extra hard to instill in them a sense of compassion for those who weren't as fortunate as they were.
It was during their late teen years that I tried to explain to them just what my problem was. They weren't as dependent on me any longer and I felt I could be a little easier on myself. There was no need to put on a front and if I was having a bad day, I could tell them and they would understand. A great burden was lifted off me.
I missed out on several good years with my children but I won't sit and brood about it. I know I did the best I could and they know that also.
I can go with my children now but the ironic part is that they are seldom home long enough to go places with me. And when they come through the door I am so happy to see them and to hear them relate little incidents to me.
Isn't life funny?
by Eileen Power
� copyright1988