Is it rude to run out of a crowded store when your mom is trying to purchase you a present?

Is it slothful to refuse to exercise the dog for fear of being seen?

Is it demanding to ask a relative to run some errands because you are too scared?

...But perhaps I cannot judge them, for they could not see my frightened eyes.

And now they know that something's wrong, that I'm not simply lazy or selfish or rude. I'm a coward.

I'm completely and utterly terrified to leave the house, my sanctuary. I am congratulated when I put out the effort to see my psychiatrist and my therapist. But isn't that the least I could do? Can the spark of life be lit by the unnatural brightness of florescent lights? I have to do something.

Yet, nothing can make one feel so small like being lauded for retrieving the mail 10 steps outside the front door. A well-trained dog can do that, too. Have I really become that useless? If I'm non-functioning, does that mean that I'm also disposable?

I am so, so scared of everything. The world is too large, to fast for me. I can't keep up.

Where do you find the courage, the strength, the endurance to push forward? My hope has been crushed by this unyielding anxiety and I fear that I will be trapped in this prison--my house--forever.