I'm not running anymore

It has been an intense two weeks.  Michael and I have spent the last ten evenings together talking and uncovering resentments and unearthing feelings and practising openness and honesty.
Right now I feel that my capacity to love is boundless.  I love and I am fully in love.  I want to try my hardest.  I want to be engaged in the parts of my life that really matter and cultivate them and cherish them.
For four years I didn't do that.  I numbed things.  I pushed them down.  I said things didn't matter when in fact they did.  I pretended to be independent when what I really was was alone.  Most surprisingly, though, I didn't think that there was more.  I didn't think that more happiness existed or that I deserved it.  Unknown unknowns. 
What a drought. 
What a fallow field.
Today I feel raw and bruised and happy and expectant and loving and loved and sad and regretful.  There is a swelling in my heart and an exuberant happiness but there is also fear and resolve.
I fear that everything that we have uncovered might start to collect dust again.  That the truths and the communication will cease to be worked at because working at it is hard, and it can be painful, but not working at it is what led to our four year stasis. 
I fear hurt and aloneness. 
Under that fear is resolve.  I resolve to throw myself into this fully and to give everything.  I resolve to be happy and to accept nothing less.
I don't know at what point in my life I conceded such key aspects of my happiness, but the part of me that deigned to allow such a transgression is gone.