JO HAYWOOD talks to a York agoraphobic who has tried drugs and therapy to beat her condition but now believes friendship is the only answer.

PEOPLE think Magz Longley is weird. Some assume she is simply unsociable, some a loner and others a hermit, but they all agree on one thing: she's strange. "If you have a pot on your leg, it's obvious what's wrong with you," said the 43-year-old mother-of-three from Cosmo Avenue, Tang Hall. "With agoraphobia, no one understands. People just think you are weird."

Magz was diagnosed as agoraphobic 18 years ago but she first noticed symptoms when she was 21. She would feel faint while out shopping or panic-stricken on a night out at her local pub.

"I realised there was something really wrong when I went to the pub with a friend," she explained. "I don't drink alcohol, but I felt drunk, like I hadn't eaten anything all day and had knocked back a few drinks too quickly.

"It started out as a feeling of nervousness, but it soon turned to panic. In the end, I had to go home."

She didn't go to her GP because she felt embarrassed and because she suspected there was something seriously wrong.

"I honestly thought I was dying," she said. "I felt so bad, I assumed it was something serious. I was so worried, but if I was going to die, I didn't want to know."

Her panic attacks progressed to such an extent that she didn't dare leave the house. This would be a problem for most people, but for a single mum with a five-year-old daughter it was nothing less than a nightmare.

"It was the simple things that I couldn't do that hurt the most," said Magz, who now has three children, two daughters aged 24 and ten, and a son aged 15. "Luckily my daughter's school was just round the corner and there wasn't a road to cross because I could not pick her up at the gates.

"I used to sit at my window watching all the other mums go past. I cried every day because I couldn't do something as simple as walk my own daughter home from school."

Life started to look up when Magz remarried. She had two more children and even managed to hold down a job as a volunteer in a charity shop. But her happiness was short lived.

Her marriage failed and her phobia took hold once again. This time, worse than ever.

"Before all this happened I was quite outgoing," she said. "I wasn't down the pub every night or anything like that, but I was sociable. Now, I don't go out of the house at all. I haven't been out for the last 18 months."

Her children, particularly her son, shoulder most of the burden of running the house. Something of which Magz is not proud.

"Kids shouldn't have to deal with all this stuff," she said. "I believe they should do their share of chores, keep their bedroom tidy and do the washing up, that sort of thing, but they shouldn't have to deal with bank accounts and paying bills. It's really not fair on them."

Magz and her two youngest children now live in the house she where was born. They moved in to care for her mother, who died earlier this year.

"I thought it might help me to come full circle back to my family home," said Magz. "But nothing has really changed. My neighbours are all perfectly nice, they smile and say hello if they see me at the door, but no one ever calls round."

This is the crux of her problem. People assume she wants to be alone because she is agoraphobic, when in fact what she most craves is company.

Her friends have dwindled over the years, unable to cope with her house-bound condition, and her only real contact with the outside world is now via a telephone chatline.

"It sounds like a bad joke," she said, "but there are no agoraphobic support groups because no one would turn up for the meetings. This is very much a hidden condition. Sufferers don't go out, so no one sees us and no one has to deal with us."

Magz used to lie about her condition, making up excuses for her urgent need to escape everyday situations. But now, although she still hides behind her own front door, she does not hide from the truth.

"I am very open about my agoraphobia," she said. "I want people to recognise the condition and learn more about it. I think a lot of people are scared that sufferers are going to have some sort of fit, like an epileptic fit, but the attacks aren't anything like that.

"Everything happens inside. You feel the panic rising and you try to escape to safety - to home. It's as simple as that."

Magz does not want much from life, but she would like a small circle of friends to chat with.

"I have virtually no adult company at all any more," she said. "My kids are great and very intelligent, but it's just not the same.

"I would love to be driven to the coast. I might not get out of the car when I get there, but just getting out of this house would be an achievement in itself.

"If I'm honest, I just want some friends. And if that sounds desperate, I don't care. I am desperate."

If you can help Magz, please phone Jo Haywood on 01904 653051.

Agoraphobia facts...

Until recently agoraphobia was defined as a fear of open spaces. It now also includes other related fears such as a fear of entering shops, of crowds and public places, or of travelling alone on trains, buses or planes. It also includes the anxiety associated with being unable to reach a place of safety, such as home, quickly.

Agoraphobia usually begins in the late 20s and is more common in women than men (although that may be because fewer men seek help).

Approximately five per cent of adults develop agoraphobia, often with no obvious cause. Without treatment, it can continue for years and may become more severe with time.

Agoraphobia can be treated using drugs or by using 'talking treatments' such as cognitive-behavioural therapy (CBT), psychotherapy and group therapy. Drugs usually result in an improvement within six to eight weeks. Talking treatments, based on unlearning unwanted responses and developing new ways of reacting to situations, often take longer, but can be just as effective.

Updated: 09:25 Tuesday, November 18, 2003