Learning how to believe I’m good enough still feels like walking on a tightrope. Each step is calculated and timid. Fearing the fall into the dark abyss of my past, I move cautiously. Breath held, hands shaking, arms outstretched for balance as I try not to look down. When can I relax, breathe, and trust in myself that all will be well? When will I float above the tightrope with the grace of a ballerina, light on her toes?