Panic Attack to Palm Beach Peace: Treating Agoraphobia in West Palm #PanicDisorderWestPalm #AgoraphobiaHelp #PalmBeachPsychiatrist #DrMarkAgresti Helen wakes at five in her West Palm Beach condo, pulse jackhammering before she opens her eyes. The agoraphobia that tags along with her panic disorder makes every outing a gamble—like last week’s walk to Singer Island where sand met sky and terror met her chest. Her dog, a scruffy mutt named Milo, presses warm against her legs; he knows. I see her Tuesdays, second-floor office overlooking Breakers Golf Course—stairs are her Everest, but she climbs. Yesterday she arrived shaky, handbag clutched like a life raft. Chad, her husband, waited in the car till I waved him up. We started SSRIs three weeks back; edges soften now, no more four-AM spirals. In CBT we map triggers—crowds, open water, the hiss of waves—so she practices breathing at the beach without bolting. Homeopathic valerian at night drops her heart rate; Milo approves. Chad sits in now, learns the scripts: Eyes on me, count five breaths. Her parents flew in from Orlando, cut brunch short when she paled at the restaurant buzz. They call daily—gentle, no pressure—while I nudge them toward boundaries that don’t suffocate. Community group’s Thursdays at the West Palm library; Helen went once, stayed twenty minutes, triumph enough. Little wins: she drove to Palm Beach alone yesterday, Milo shotgun, windows down. Waves crashed, she didn’t run. DrMarkAgresti dot com—if you’re reading this at three AM, know help fits in your pocket: meds that steady, therapy that rewires, family that steadies. Helen’s next goal? Singer Island sunrise, no backup. Fingers crossed she texts me a selfie.