Jealousy. Windsurfing. Dismantling the halo.
I really cannot fault the meds I am on. Seroxat has made me feel relaxed and content, brave and bold, happy and smiling and it’s quieted my mind. It is a wonderdrug for me as there are no side-effects that I can perceive which balance out the benefits. Of course there is a bit of me that wonders what the catch is – will it be impossible to get off when that time comes? Will I go nuts if I ever miss a dose? Will there be long-term health implications that I won’t be aware of for ten or thirty years? I don’t know and for the time being I am happy to continue taking Seroxat.
The brave new me went windsurfing two days ago – a traumatic experience that left me feeling depleted and disgusting. I went to Tres Piedras beach, just south of Chipiona, Cadiz. I had never windsurfed before, and it was one of those things that J and I thought would be perfect to get into for fitness and a bit of an adrenaline rush.
The instruction consisted of being taken a mile out to sea in a boat after waiting on the shoreline for twenty minutes. The ‘instructor’ told us in embarrassed English to step onto the board and hoist up the sail. Then he sped off in his boat, not to be seen again for a good half hour. I didn’t manage to get the sail up even once, though falling off it repeatedly into the deep water was strangely fun and even kind of exhilarating.
After a few minutes I was truly exhausted and took to straddling or sitting on my board waiting to regain enough energy to carry on. But all that bobbing up and down, even on a moderately calm sea, made me feel increasingly sick. I felt as if I must have been going green and retched a couple of times. It was the most bizarrely hopeless and helpless circumstance to be in, if I’m honest. It was so ridiculous it made me laugh in my delirious state. What was I doing? I was a dot on the horizon, much further out from shore than I could ever swim. I was lying on a raft, about to hurl my guts up. It was completely calm and peaceful. No-one would come for an hour and a half. It took the biscuit for strange situations.
Still I have to give myself kudos for going through with it and not bottling out. I’m not a thrill-seeker by nature and prefer sitting at home reading, writing, eating or watching TV. The night before our long-awaiting windsurfing lesson, I had a bit of a revelation which was embarrassing to admit even to myself. I was out at a restaurant with my boyfriend J and things were slightly fraught somehow, and I objected to his buying a bottle of wine for home then ordering a G&T at the restaurant (spirits measures are always so large in Spain and are always free-poured).
I just came out with it and realised as soon as I had said it that I’d been carrying it around with me for some time: I am insanely jealous of his drinking. There, I’ve said it! We do everything together and go through the same highs, lows, triumphs and disappointments being together practically 24/7. But he has escapes in the form of alcohol and marijuana. His relationship to booze is not entirely healthy, as he has the propensity to drink a tad too much, but he certainly doesn’t turn into a monster or become angry/ violent/ emotional/ riotous like me. He just gets more fun. He likes to smoke a spliff at the end of the evening. Nothing wrong with that, except that I’m quietly fuming that this pleasure is similarly unavailable to me. I’ve never even been stoned before. I’d only ever smoked it when I was blind drunk in the past. Now, with the hole in my lung and my aspergillosis, it’s off-limits.
It is incredibly childish of me I know but this is what my heart is saying and I have to make efforts to listen to it. J’s response was that my drug could be adrenalin – natural, safe and free. We would do extreme sports like windsurfing and ride rollercoasters (though he pooh-poohed the idea of me driving my car really crazily or learning to ride a motorbike – probably wise).
There is also the possibility of doing Seroxat recreationally, doubling my dose to 20mg or more one time, just for fun. I would really like this and am so craving the chance to lose my brain for a few hours. The saint-like lifestyle I have been living for eight months now is taking its toll and something has to give. Even Mother Theresa-a-likes such as myself should be allowed a little escape from time to time. I just don’t know what that might entail.