No one at the team knows that I have stopped taking my meds. Not in the last three weeks. That is why I have made so much progress in one short week. Next week, if I can still hold my own I am going to tell Doctor Chisholm, no more meds. I still have to tell Carl and Francois, but not yet. Especially as things are moving so fast with us, I have to keep some things to myself, for myself, and only and exclusively for myself. Carl's idea of unconditional openness and sharing is just way too much beefsteak too soon. And I'm vegetarian, sort of. But even with my wild and unfettered emotions these days I finally feel fully myself. Fully me. And if I can negotiate this without doing anything particularly stupid, but this has been so intense and I want a break from intensity. At least I'm sleeping well, much to my surprise, because Dr. Chisholm had warned me that no pills could cost me several good nights.
As we leave Burnaby Carl says, "Are you back on your phone again, Chris?"
"I haven't taken it out of my pocket since we left the café."
"You haven't been sleeping?"
"Bright eyed and bushy tailed.
"And still breathing."
"Yes, I suppose you could say I am still breathing..."
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