Fobia

The worst part about being mugged and hit on the head with a brick on the dark street corner near your house is that for weeks afterwards you're afraid to leave your house unaccompanied. You're afraid to stay in your house unaccompanied as well, but you deal with that by installing an extra lock on the door and never letting anybody in without first ascertaining their identity in at least three ways. But leaving the house is painful. When you have to do it, you run, which hurts your head still in bandages from the assault. You carry chemicals with you, fully aware that you're not going to be able to use them when somebody decides to hit you on the head again. You call your friends for help, and for a while they are happy to do it: they feel generous and useful and happy that you were just hit on the head and nothing worse. Later they tell you that your fears are a fobia and that you can't live out the rest of your life behind the locked doors. You know that is true, so you don't. You move; you move in with somebody. It's the easiest thing to do. It makes you feel healthier for a while, because you're also afraid that you've developed a fobia.