And, there it was. I’d invoked She Who Must Not Be Named. I stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk, earning glares from tailgaters and a muttered curse from a Jedi Knight wannabe. I began deep-breathing to still the panic attack. This time, it took only moments to get myself under control. Nothing like practice, I guess. I was still having several panic attacks per day, but that was way down from just after the breakup. It was like having a bad tooth—you keep poking at it with your tongue, even knowing that it’s going to hurt each time.