"This is my house - a semi-detached building in the Wrexham area. Here is my room - four walls, a door, a window and too much stuff. D'you like it? I do. I like it so much I didn't leave for five years. To some people this sounds like paradise, but in reality it's quite different. I couldn't leave my front door due to me being sick every time I tried. I got scared whenever I thought about going out because I didn't know what was going to happen.

It got to the point where I came out in a cold sweat even if the thought of going out came into my mind. In short, it was a living hell. This carried on for five years, the friends I used to have stopped coming round to see me. I started to withdraw more and more into myself becoming progressively subdued. I used to stare out of the window at all the people walking past and wonder, "what is wrong with me?" it became like a vicious circle: I became more depressed because I couldn't go out and I couldn't go out because I was depressed.

It came to a head when my support worker turned to me and said, "If you don't leave the house I will kick you up and down the street." This was obviously a joke but at the time I wasn't so sure. So I gradually found myself getting further and further away from my front gate.

With help I even got to college, this was itself a big thing as I had a deep fear of being laughed at because of my age and circumstances. I didn't have to worry as I found Yale College a tolerant place. But the icing on the cake came last year when I spent three days in London (of all places) through college.

If you had told me six years ago that I would have been spending a few days in the countries capital I would have laughed at you (from the safety of my bedroom!)"