I ball my hands into fists, take a big breath and call again, ‘Oh… Dee… Dee-EEEE!’ I am barely four years old. Deedee might be even younger. ... listen intently, drawing in another slower breath of the warm spring day. I can hear the deep throated sounds of trucks on Kedzie Avenue which surprises me because it’s one and a half blocks away — three buildings down, then the long block of the weedy, trash strewn, vacant lot with the billboard, which to me is light years away in ‘Don’t ever go there’. ?That was SO helpful, and SO reassuring ? at least for my job. But itmostly helped with the symptoms, if not the actual problem: I wassuffering from something called post-traumatic stress disorder, as mypsychologist explained to me a few days later ? and it was gettingworse as time passed. Anyway, that was his name for it ? I just knew Iwas experiencing a lot more anxiety than ever before, kind of likehaving nonstop panic attacks all day long. And I was having a lot oftrouble sleeping too. In. More

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