An old bugaboo comes back

Lately I've been having my fear of open spaces again--it's a bugaboo that has come and gone through most of my adult life.My doctor tells me I'm just not wired like other people, and my brother (a physician) thinks it's either a brain tumor or too much wine, but I know what it is. The classic definition of agoraphobia is "an abnormal fear of open spaces." I have been particularly aware of it this past week and wonder if it's not because I've been spending more time at home. I realize I could easily become a recluse, and then agoraphobia would close its tight circle around me. I've fought this battle before and will fight it again, but sometimes when I look at an open space it's like having a panic attack, thinking I can't do it. If I'm walking next to someone, I'm great and stride along with the best of them; if I work up a head of steam, walking along next to something, I can almost sail across an open space, but don't ask me to strike off cold across an empty parking lot.
It's been on my mind today because I went to breakfast with Jordan, Christian and Jacob, and as we left the house I said,"Wait for me. I may need an arm." Well, of course, I didn't--I walked next to Christian, down two sets of stairs, a short sidewalk and across a patch of grass laced with tree roots and did just fine. When we came home my neighbors were working in their yard and my neighbor, Greg, who takes care of my yard, was dividing iris and planting Mexican marigold and lamb's ear. Jordan stopped to talk with them, and I longed to but couldn't make myself step over the hose and down the walk alone. Then, when Greg was through, he asked me to come look, and I know he noticed that I stayed by the railing or the tall rosemary--anything I could grab on to. (I neither had my cane nor had taken anti-anxiety medicine, both of which make it better.) But I've been more conscious of it this week, which is not good--just makes me lose my confidence all the more.
Oh, I do go places alone--the groceries I like, the office, the drugstore, doctor's offices (well, some), places I'm familiar with. New territory is a lot worse. But tonight I went to visit Charles at Trinity Terrace, the assisted living facility. That trip was really hard for me at first--he's on the same corridor, same floor, where my mom died. A couple of times I took friends with me, but one day I gutted up and went alone, and now it's easy--even walking across the open area between the parking and the entrance. And was I glad I went--friends of his from the Unitarian Church were there. I was pleased to meet them, and we had a great visit, swapping stories. Charles started going to church there three or four years ago, and I have absolutely never seen a body of worshippers reach out to someone like they have to Charles. They visit, take him to lunch, take him to church, and fill his life.
I tell myself this too shall pass, and it will--it always has before. A big part of it, since it's stress-related, may be getting used to retirement. I just finished a big project and am ready to go back to writing my novel--but that's like a shot in the dark. Who knows if anyone will ever want to read it?
Okay, I'm going to quit being morose and go back to the British novel I'm reading. Tomorrow is a new day.