“Alcohol.”She smiles. “Ah. And alco

“Alcohol.”
She smiles. “Ah. And alcohol actually increases the likelihood of a panic attack in people who are vulnerable to them. Did you know that?”
I shrug. “I wondered afterward. But this guy was talking to me, and he said something that embarrassed me, and it happened like that.” I snap my fingers.
“So you felt embarrassed.”
“My fingers sort of spasmed? And I dropped my glass. I remember staring at this one curved piece, and everything sort of felt unreal. I had to get out of there.”
“Did you have the same feelings you’ve described before? Heart racing, shortness of breath, trembling, tingling, numb, dizzy, feeling like you’re going to vomit?”
I’m starting to feel a little nauseated right now. “That about covers it.”
“And you tried to escape.”
“I ran to the bathroom. I needed to be away from people—and I wanted to be near a toilet since I needed to throw up.”
“What were your thoughts?”
I wince at the memory. “That I was going absolutely crazy, that I couldn’t control my body or myself, that I was going to shatter and disintegrate completely.”
She frowns, like she can tell how much it hurt me. “How frightening. Did any of that happen?”
I blink. “No.”
She doesn’t smirk or gloat like I expect her to. She simply nods. “Have you ever been in a dangerous or scary situation, like a car accident or a near-miss sort of thing?”
“Like … I guess … one time I was with my dad in Detroit, and he got mugged.”
“How did you feel then?”
“Terrified. I mean, my heart was beating so fast, and I was shaking. I can still picture every aspect of the mugger’s face and the way he was standing. The way his voice sounded.”
“So you were focused on the mugger.”
“Yeah.”
“Our brains function automatically in that kind of situation, preparing us to fight or run away. We don’t do that consciously—it just happens. We’re really fantastic machines, built to survive, and that heart-racing, shaky, ready-to-run feeling is meant to help us stay alive. It isn’t in and of itself harmful; in fact, it’s the opposite. But with panic attacks, you feel those sensations, and you think they’re dangerous. Can you remember your first panic attack?”
“It was in a crowded movie theater lobby—the place was absolutely packed. It was early September, and they must have turned the AC off because it was so hot in there. I felt this pain in my chest and thought I was having a heart attack, or maybe some asthma attack? I couldn’t breathe that well.”
“So you were in a packed, stuffy place, and you’ve never liked crowds, and you felt uncomfortable. You felt a pang in your chest, probably anxiety or some other normal signal in your body, but you thought, ‘I’m having a heart attack.’ So that made your heart race faster, and you became convinced that’s what was happening because your body’s panic response was coming online. But unlike the mugging in Detroit, where you were focused on the mugger, this time you were focused on what was happening inside your body, and feeling more terrified and out of control by the second.”
“That’s exactly how it was.”
“So the next time you felt that kind of pang?”
“I understood that it probably wasn’t a heart attack, but knowing that didn’t help.” I swallow back my frustration. “Heather, this has all been explained to me before, and it hasn’t made a difference.”
She meets my gaze. “That’s because you can understand something, but if you don’t practice that understanding, it won’t take root—and it flies out the window when you panic. Like the second time you had a panic attack. At some level, you knew it wasn’t a heart attack, but you were still scared of feeling that way again. That feeling is like the mugger. Terrifying, something to be on the lookout for, right? Something to protect yourself from? Do you avoid exerting yourself, just to avoid those dizzy, nauseated, heart-pounding sensations?”
I nod. It’s why I was scared that night with Daniel, because he was making me dizzy and hot and nervous, and I didn’t want to lose it in front of him. The only thing that helped was taking it slow, and knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. I don’t tell Heather about that, though. Instead, I say, “That’s why I don’t drink caffeine. I don’t like how it makes my heart race.”
“But unlike the mugger, that feeling can’t actually hurt you,” Heather says. “It’s uncomfortable, but not dangerous.”
“I’m not so sure …”
“Stella, you’ve been through a lot, and you don’t have to be sure right now. But I can help you get control of this.”
“You sound so confident.”
Her eyebrow arches. “Because I am. Not for nothing, though. There’s a lot of research that shows this treatment is effective, and I’ve seen it work many times before.”
I could argue. Part of me wants to … but the rest of me is desperate to believe her. “You think it could work for me, after everything I’ve told you?”
She gives me a gentle smile. “I think it would work brilliantly. But only if you understand one important thing.”
“What?”
“To get control, you’re going to have to stop avoiding it. You’re going to have to become like a scientist of your own mind. You’re going to learn to recognize the signals that lead to panic for what they are, and you’re going to pay attention to the thoughts you have as you feel these sensations.”
My fingers claw at the armrests. “I thought you could tell me how not to panic. Not to observe myself while I panic!”
Heather’s gaze flicks to my white knuckles. “Are you panicking now?”
“I’m getting there!” I snap.
“And what’s going on inside your body?”
“I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Because I said you’ll have to face your panic, and that’s frightening to you. Have you ever actually thrown up during one of these episodes?”
“No.”
“Do you think this time will be different?”
“No idea.”
“Okay.” She moves a wastebasket from beside her chair and sets it next to my legs. “Just in case.” She doesn’t look worried or flustered at all, nor does she look disdainful. She looks like she believes it’s going to be okay. I wish I shared that belief.
While I sit there, nausea rolling, heart stuttering, she calmly gathers a bunch of paperwork, some handouts explaining the physiological process of panic, and a log where I’m supposed to record my feelings of panic, my mood, my thoughts. She sits down across from me again and gives me a sympathetic look. “You’re working so hard and suffering so much. This is going to get better quickly, though it won’t be easy at first. Can you trust me for a few sessions?”
“You promise it will get better if I do this stuff?”
She smiles. “If you do this stuff, I promise it will get better. Before Memorial Day.”
“How about by the first of April? That’s about seven weeks from now?” My mom’s deadline. She wants me out and about and ready to return to Wellesley …
Heather ponders, looking me up and down, my hands now folded over my middle, my knees pressed together, my entire body coiled tight. “It depends on you, and how much you do. We could see significant improvement by then, I’d think. But only if you don’t quit.”
I think of being able to do the things I used to be able to do, to drive, to go to the movies, … and then I think of the things I’d like to do, like being with Daniel wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. I take the papers from her, gripping them with my clammy hands. "I'll do it.

Hasil (Bahasa Indonesia) 1:

"Alkohol".Dia tersenyum. "Ah. Dan alkohol benar-benar meningkatkan kemungkinan serangan panik dalam orang-orang yang rentan terhadap mereka. Apakah Anda tahu bahwa?"Aku mengangkat bahu. "Aku bertanya-tanya sesudahnya. Tapi orang ini sedang berbicara kepada saya, dan ia mengatakan sesuatu yang malu aku, dan hal itu terjadi seperti itu." Aku snap jari saya."Jadi Anda merasa malu.""Jari saya seperti spasmed? Dan aku menjatuhkan gelas. Aku ingat menatap bagian melengkung yang satu ini, dan semuanya semacam merasa tidak nyata. Saya harus keluar dari sana.""Apakah Anda memiliki perasaan yang sama yang Anda telah dijelaskan sebelumnya? Jantungku berdebar, sesak napas, gemetar, kesemutan, mati rasa, pusing, merasa seperti Anda akan muntah?"Aku mulai merasa sedikit mual sekarang. "Bahwa sekitar mencakup itu.""Dan Anda mencoba untuk melarikan diri.""Aku berlari ke kamar mandi. Aku perlu dari orang-orang- dan aku ingin menjadi dekat toilet karena saya perlu untuk muntah. ""Apa yang pikiran Anda?"Aku meringis di memori. "Bahwa aku akan benar-benar gila, bahwa aku tidak bisa mengendalikan tubuh saya atau diri sendiri, bahwa aku akan menghancurkan dan hancur sepenuhnya."Dia mengerutkan dahi, seperti dia bisa kirim berapa banyak itu menyakitiku. "Bagaimana menakutkan. Semua itu terjadi?"Saya sekejap. "Tidak."Dia tidak menyeringai atau menertawakan seperti aku berharap dia. Dia hanya mengangguk. "Apakah Anda pernah berada dalam situasi berbahaya atau menakutkan, seperti kecelakaan mobil atau dekat-rindu semacam hal?""Seperti... Saya kira... satu kali saya adalah dengan ayahku di Detroit, dan dia dirampok.""Bagaimana perasaan Anda kemudian?""Ketakutan. Maksudku, hatiku berdebar begitu cepat, dan aku gemetar. Aku masih dapat gambar setiap aspek wajah perampok dan cara dia berdiri. Cara terdengar suara-Nya.""Jadi Anda terpusat pada perampok.""ya.""Otak berfungsi secara otomatis dalam situasi, mempersiapkan kita untuk melawan atau lari semacam itu. Kami tidak melakukannya secara sadar-itu hanya terjadi. Kami benar-benar fantastis mesin, dibangun untuk bertahan hidup, dan hati-racing, gemetar, siap menjalankan perasaan ini dimaksudkan untuk membantu kita tetap hidup. Tidak dengan sendirinya berbahaya; pada kenyataannya, itu adalah sebaliknya. Tetapi dengan serangan panik, Anda merasakan sensasi tersebut, dan Anda pikir mereka berbahaya. Dapatkah Anda ingat serangan panik Anda pertama?""Itu di lobi teater ramai film — tempat benar-benar dikemas. Itu awal September, dan mereka harus telah dimatikan AC karena itu begitu panas di sana. Saya merasa sakit ini di dada saya dan berpikir saya sedang mengalami serangan jantung, atau mungkin beberapa serangan asma? Aku tidak bisa bernapas yang baik. ""Begitu Anda berada di tempat makan, pengap, dan Anda tidak pernah menyukai orang banyak, dan Anda merasa tidak nyaman. Anda merasa pang di dada Anda, mungkin kecemasan atau beberapa sinyal normal dalam tubuh Anda, tetapi Anda berpikir, 'Saya mengalami serangan jantung.' Jadi itu membuat hatiku ras Anda lebih cepat, dan Anda menjadi yakin bahwa adalah apa yang terjadi karena respon tubuh Anda panik datang online. Tapi tidak seperti perampokan di Detroit, mana Anda terfokus pada perampok, kali ini Anda terfokus pada apa yang terjadi dalam tubuh Anda, dan merasa lebih takut dan keluar dari kontrol oleh kedua.""Itu adalah persis bagaimana hal itu.""Jadi lain kali Anda merasa pang semacam itu?""Aku mengerti bahwa itu mungkin bukan serangan jantung, tapi mengetahui bahwa tidak membantu." Aku menelan kembali saya frustrasi. "Heather, semua telah dijelaskan kepada saya sebelumnya, dan itu tidak membuat perbedaan."Dia bertemu pandangan. "Itu karena Anda dapat memahami sesuatu, tetapi jika Anda tidak berlatih pemahaman, itu tidak akan mengambil akar — dan terbang keluar jendela ketika Anda panik. Seperti kedua kalinya Anda memiliki serangan panik. Pada tingkat tertentu, Anda tahu itu bukan serangan jantung, tapi kau masih takut perasaan seperti itu lagi. Perasaan itu seperti perampok. Mengerikan, sesuatu yang harus mencari, kanan? Sesuatu untuk melindungi diri dari? Apakah Anda menghindari mengerahkan diri sendiri, hanya untuk menghindari mereka pusing, mual, jantung berdebar sensasi?"Aku mengangguk. Itu mengapa saya merasa takut malam itu dengan Daniel, karena dia membuat saya pusing dan panas dan gugup, dan aku tidak ingin kehilangan di depannya. Satu-satunya hal yang membantu mengambil lambat, dan tahu ia tidak akan membiarkan sesuatu terjadi kepada saya. Aku tidak memberitahu Heather tentang hal itu, meskipun. Sebaliknya, aku berkata, "Itulah sebabnya saya tidak minum kafein. Saya tidak suka bagaimana itu membuat hatiku ras.""Tapi tidak seperti perampok, perasaan itu benar-benar tidak bisa menyakiti Anda," Heather mengatakan. "Ini tidak nyaman, tetapi tidak berbahaya.""Aku tidak begitu yakin...""Stella, Anda telah melalui banyak, dan Anda tidak memiliki untuk memastikan sekarang. "Tetapi saya dapat membantu Anda mendapatkan kontrol ini.""Kau terdengar begitu percaya diri."Lengkungan alis nya. "Karena aku. Bukan untuk apa-apa, meskipun. Ada banyak penelitian yang menunjukkan pengobatan ini efektif, dan aku sudah melihatnya bekerja berkali-kali sebelumnya."Aku bisa berdebat. Bagian dari diriku ingin... tapi sisanya saya putus asa untuk percaya padanya. "Anda pikir itu bisa bekerja untuk saya, setelah semua yang saya sudah bilang?"Dia memberi saya lembut tersenyum. "Saya pikir itu akan bekerja cemerlang. Tapi hanya jika Anda memahami satu hal penting.""Apa?""Untuk mendapatkan kontrol, Anda akan perlu untuk menghindari hal itu. Anda akan harus menjadi seperti seorang ilmuwan dari pikiran Anda sendiri. Anda akan belajar untuk mengenali sinyal yang menyebabkan kepanikan untuk apa yang mereka, dan Anda akan membayar perhatian ke pikiran Anda ketika Anda merasa sensasi ini."My fingers claw at the armrests. “I thought you could tell me how not to panic. Not to observe myself while I panic!”Heather’s gaze flicks to my white knuckles. “Are you panicking now?”“I’m getting there!” I snap.“And what’s going on inside your body?”“I think I’m going to throw up.”“Because I said you’ll have to face your panic, and that’s frightening to you. Have you ever actually thrown up during one of these episodes?”“No.”“Do you think this time will be different?”“No idea.”“Okay.” She moves a wastebasket from beside her chair and sets it next to my legs. “Just in case.” She doesn’t look worried or flustered at all, nor does she look disdainful. She looks like she believes it’s going to be okay. I wish I shared that belief.While I sit there, nausea rolling, heart stuttering, she calmly gathers a bunch of paperwork, some handouts explaining the physiological process of panic, and a log where I’m supposed to record my feelings of panic, my mood, my thoughts. She sits down across from me again and gives me a sympathetic look. “You’re working so hard and suffering so much. This is going to get better quickly, though it won’t be easy at first. Can you trust me for a few sessions?”“You promise it will get better if I do this stuff?”She smiles. “If you do this stuff, I promise it will get better. Before Memorial Day.”“How about by the first of April? That’s about seven weeks from now?” My mom’s deadline. She wants me out and about and ready to return to Wellesley …Heather ponders, looking me up and down, my hands now folded over my middle, my knees pressed together, my entire body coiled tight. “It depends on you, and how much you do. We could see significant improvement by then, I’d think. But only if you don’t quit.”I think of being able to do the things I used to be able to do, to drive, to go to the movies, … and then I think of the things I’d like to do, like being with Daniel wherever he is, whatever he’s doing. I take the papers from her, gripping them with my clammy hands. "I'll do it.