Double edged compliments

Sometimes even the best intentions are so far short of enough that
you even begin to doubt the intentions as being a self-delusion to
disguise a secret desire for masochism.

Or sometimes, the masochist finds you despite your best intentions.

Everytime I seem to have removed myself from my past, to have let go
of regrets and pain that I really never want to revisit while still
holding onto my memories, delicately keeping the balance as I tiptoe
across the beam, it finds me. Sometimes, perhaps, I grow overconfident,
attempting a little hop or twirl, feeling my joy and lightness while
holding the focus, the balance. At times, I even find grace.
Exactly at that moment, usually, is when the phone call comes through
or the email or the found note or picture creeps up. It happens so
regularly, with such rhythm, on that upbeat, stepping from the twirl
to a graceful leap, that you would think I would expect it. But
nope. Always catches me so off guard that rather than keeping focus
and just following through with the leap, I hesitate and entertain.
I engage. Why? The result has never changed. It always knocks me
off the beam. Humiliated and angry with myself, I must hop back up,
but now it is all show. The lightness has disappeared. The
gracefulness is gone. The twirl, an attempt to prove to others that
all is great, but I am not FEELING it inside.

I know that in time, the levity and focus and balance will return.
Perhaps sans those good memories, because eventually you have to get
rid of some burdens. But if that is what must be sacrificed to keep
myself on the beam, to leap to the other end until I can find solid
ground on my own terms, well, so be it. And once again, I vow, next
time WILL be different. Next time, I will not look away, will not
flinch. Next time . . .