For four years, Caroline Revins was afraid to set foot outside her flat in Fairview, Dublin, until a chance read through one of her favourite magazines resulted in freedom and a new life.

Caroline claims the condition that affected her life, agoraphobia, is more common than most people think and she wants to let others know that there is a way out.

It all began for Caroline with the first bombs in Talbot Street in 1974. She was at work nearby in Townsend Street at the Post Office.

"I heard the bombs going off," says Caroline. "The whole building just shuddered with the explosion. At the time I was living on the North Circular Road, and I ran the whole way home, mostly in fear." Worse was yet to come.

"A lot of bomb scares followed, and I suppose that all fed my anxiety levels," she says.

"The first day back at work, a colleague told me that an old school friend of mine had committed suicide. I got a panic attack. My heart felt like it was going to explode in my chest. My hands were sweating and I was trying to get away and to act normally, even though my legs were shaking and I thought I was going to pass out. It was absolutely horrible."

"Other people didn't know I was having panic attacks," she says." I couldn't speak about it and I was trying to cover it up."

Caroline visited the GP. "She checked me out and said I was fine," she says. "At the time sitting there, my heart was pounding in my chest. I thought I was going crazy. I didn't know how to explain what was happening. At the time, I didn't have words for it."

Caroline adds: "Then I thought, if the GP is not picking up on it, then I was not going crazy."

For a young, engaged woman about town, life became constricted. A pattern developed.

"The anxiety had taken root in me from those weeks," says Caroline. "For example, I would be anxious about going for a walk, in case dogs would attack me. So I stopped going for walks.

"There was always an 'in case of' a scenario playing in my mind. Agoraphobia feeds into the shadow of 'what if?'"

fear

The fears, she admits now, were always unfounded, but the anxiety made her feel the fear.

"I would wake up in fear, and go to bed in fear."

Life continued, but the birth of Caroline's first son in 1978 bought new challenges.

"This was a really anxious time for me," she says. "Like any new mother-to-be I had concerns, but I also had high levels of fears, like I thought 'will I survive the birth?'

"Then when we got our son home, I was determined I would take him out for a walk. I went out pushing the pram, and my legs were shaking. And then I got to the bridge that goes onto the North Strand between Fairview." She couldn't cross it.

Life in the flat with a young baby was hard enough, without the anxiety. "I worked in the home and it became too clean. I drank numerous cups of coffee all the time and I found out that this was just a way of feeding the fear."

Day-to-day life was changed. "I would walk into town, rather than take the bus," Caroline explains. "I thought if the bus door closes, I will not be able to get out. I felt very trapped."

During this time, Caroline came across an article in Woman's Way magazine on agoraphobia.

"That's when I thought, 'they have a name for my condition'. I rang the writer and he came out to see me. He explained agoraphobia to me. For the first time in my life, I began to feel normal."

He told Caroline about a group in Ballymun who met regularly to discuss and help others with the condition. With a bit of help, Caroline attended her first meeting of the Out and About Association. They included relaxation classes and Caroline found techniques to help her cope with the condition. They were an enormous help.

"It was like my 'ah ha' moment, I took control of my life and never looked back," she says.

Caroline has written a leaflet for those who need help. Contact the Out and About Association calling 01 833 8252 for a copy

- Brenda Woods