And the Beat Goes On (IP)

…so the alarm goes and I’d only just got to sleep as I had a shitty night everything going round and round and now I have to get dressed to see the dr I never dress and when I do I can only wear two dresses because that’s all that fits me now oh how I hate myself I must get going but I’ll have a fag first then on the way to the drs I start thinking about the ip and how for me it’s not so much kerouac though on the road is fantastic to read I’ve not read his poetry so for me it’s about lennon how he wrote a beatle’s song though you knew it was john because of the line about how he blew his mind out in a car that’s how he was one of us brilliant but fucked and I want to run home to my laptop and write

but then I’m at the surgery I have a fag outside it’s one of my rituals I notice I have yellow stains between my fingers tell myself I must hide them from the Dr then when I see her she asks me how I am I get my list out because last time she told me off when I forgot something I had to go back but I tell her I’m prepared so I start with the painkillers how I couldn’t stand being me and feel like I’m cracking up so she says she won’t cut my valium for another two weeks have I exercised yet so I say I haven’t because I’ve been feeling ill well she says that’s what painkillers do I ask for some antihistamines which she tells me not to abuse like before I say okay it’s only when she gives me some nicotine gum she asks if I’m still not smoking and I lie and remember too late about the fingers then I say thanks

but I am thinking about my old Dr who I used to have a real laugh with and you know he got me he understood me he knew me inside out but he had to go to New Zealand because of the fucking cuts the bastards me and him always agreed on politics and then I have to get down to the chemist and I’m so scared I’m going to buy painkillers and I know I mustn’t but the compulsion is making me so ill I quickly buy some chocolate and a copy of heat instead and now that’s sorted I’m back to the ip

then I’m at the chemist and I tick the back of all my prescriptions though it’s illegal and I’ll probably be done but I can’t afford to pay for about 100 items then I trudge back home and when by the time I’m home my nose is streaming and my dress is sticking to me what’s this sweating is it the meds or my age I’m sick of looking like a tomato then I take about 15 antihistamines and fall asleep but when I get up the ip is still there and I’ve got to get it all down because I’ll feel really ill if I don’t but the bloody builders are making such a racket and I can’t stand the noise and my laptop’s on the blink I have a john cleese moment and I scream obscenities at it so I go back to bed and

try and read about the holocaust which is all I can do when I’m like this and it sounds really sick but it’s the only thing I can concentrate on and somehow I think that I will finally be able to understand how it could have happened but I never do so then weirdly I’m into the chapter about the Nazis euthanasia policies for the mentally ill and it’s not new to me of course because at the mental health charity I had to comment on how terrible it was and of course it was and then it got even worse and that was just a practice run for what came after which is completely indefensible you really can’t go there

but I still can’t help wondering why my parents had me when they knew mental illness was on both sides and there are days I wish I didn’t exist my laptop still won’t work so I can’t write it doesn’t give a shit about my obsessions and the banging goes on and then that baby wailing howling as usual doesn’t the mother feel like suffocating it but that’s obscene and I must be a nazi myself I am so vile but none of it will stop my head buzzes like a fridge I must write I must

but then my husband comes in of course I don’t bother to tell him about john the noise the baby the nazis the computer or the ip because I can see he’s knackered and can do without me wittering on so we eat and while we watch amy winehouse I wonder why her not me then it’s bedtime and we read together even though I’ve moved on to treblinka but the ip is still there I say to my husband god I’ve got bad abc ocd he tells me to calm down write it tomorrow if I must then I tell myself I don’t need to write it anyway because someone has already written about depression it’s much better than anything I could ever write so dutifully I swallow my valium

but the drugs don’t work they only make you worse the ip is still there and like a junky which is what I am after all I have to get this down I am shaking as I write I have no idea if it’s any good everyone has tried the ip this week they are all in a different league to me mine is crap compared to them and I feel so apologetic and inferior I am so useless then I wonder why I loathe myself so much but that’s a different story so

maybe I’ll ask someone off the site who is obsessive too he gives really good advice though he is so full of ideas I always have to make changes and I wonder if he’s secretly an editor but what the hell he can look at it anyway and now at least it’s quiet there’s no banging and maybe the baby is even sleeping insomnia always makes you feel like you’re the only person awake going over and over things but on abc there’s loads of other insomniacs thank god so anyhow I bow to the inevitable

like a tongue probing probing away at a mouth ulcer and even now I’ve got most of this down it’s the same old same old my brain is still swirling the thoughts won’t go I suppose I’ll eke out the remainder of the night with tea and fags I should try to sleep but can’t the adrenaline rips and rages through me now my other half has caught me and told me to come to bed for gods sake but the nazis are still there they’re always there did the vatican collude could should the allies do more I’m exhausted

then I’m back to john lennon and how he sings I’d give you everything I’ve got for a little peace of mind shit mum will ring in the morning to see how I am I love her but just when I may have finally dropped off she will shout are you there please pick up I’m worried about you I don’t blame her I’d be anxious too is this any good if I had a daughter like me will I catch an hour where can I stop this hellish merry-go round there never really is an end to anything is there………..