Stop.

At a staff meeting this morning, our CEO urged us to take a moment over the long weekend to slow down, appreciate where we've come in the past year, and be proud. This job is so fast-paced that sometimes we move so fast that we don't stop and look around, and we just go on to the next thing. Last weekend, as I mentioned, I gathered with more than 1,000 low-income youth as they celebrated academic success and the transition from high school to college. Anyone who came from a low-income urban community can tell you that this is unheard of - both because academics are decidedly not cool, and because inner-city public schools are not always, but often, worlds of "can't". Anyone who came from a low-income community and went on to college can tell you that it transformed their life. Anyone who made that accomplishment without support can tell you that it would have made a tremendous difference. Every day this is where I go to work. Almost every day I hear about students who were told "can't" and said "Oh yeah? Watch me."

Stop.

Yesterday was a good running day. I've struggled to get into the gym because it's been so beautiful outside and there are three lakes within running distance of my new apartment. I pushed myself to go to the gym, pushed myself to run 10 minutes longer than I'd originally intended, pushed myself to do a wind sprint at the end. As I walked through the parking lot, I felt a surge of happiness travel from my heart to the tips of my fingers to the tips of my toes. I love to run. Ten years ago, I would never even have thought about it. I would have turned my nose up and figured out a way to say "can't".

Stop.

Dan has this very profound and sort of bizarre effect on me. It happened almost immediately after we started dating - I'd feel happy about something, and then I'd start to cry. I still do it. I realize how happy I am, and I start to cry. This is a complicated thing, partly related to the fact that I am afraid to be happy. When we got engaged, I would tell people, "It's fun!" What I meant was, "I am SO happy," but to my recollection, I'd never really said that before and meant it in that way. There'd always been a caveat, or something new to worry about because of the happy thing, or an inability to express pride or joy in something, to own it. In fact, I will sometimes go out of my way to be unhappy - to invent or create something to obsess and be miserable about. No one knows this better than Dan, and he is infinitely patient and reassuring at every turn, no matter what, and it has taught me so much. In those moments of true happiness, when my eyes fill up with tears, I imagine this tendency of mine flowing out of me, so that someday soon it will be all gone.

Stop.