Therapy

I have started therapy a few weeks ago in an attempt to help with the crippling anxiety I suffer. It is amazing the depth of things that are surfacing. It is fascinating and challenging at the same time.

It was a good therapy session I thought
Peeling layers of a stubborn onion set in resin
Mining away at solidified feelings
One by reluctant one
Each clinging with skeletal fingers
to emotions echoing in empty halls against
walls painted in red acrylic
As I slit the wrists of memories
Heart exposed, emaciated
And I bleed

I spoke of mother, long dead father
How I am a child
A lost someone, somewhere, somehow
Yellow brick roads
No place like home
But I never get there
I am a chasm in a universe
A star without a sky
A tide without a moon
I swallow sky and devour the ocean
and my soul is still hungry

It’s good to talk
But oh, the guilt!
For I am not permitted to feel the spectrum
Nice girls swallow their anger
And pour the pain into a teapot
Tears are dried upon cupcakes of suppression
And emotions only paint a fictitious smile on
plastic, botox faces
But feelings lurk in wait, within my fickle psyche
Dramatic vultures craving penitence
Feasting on loss and shame and guilt
Having a welcome party
Mad Hatters in my therapist’s room

Sarah Drury

Electro Convulsive Therapy

I’ve sunk below
how far down I should go
They say the pills
don’t work no more
The hours of wasted therapy
Now my life’s in jeopardy
Wasting away on this
psychiatric ward
Owning my depression
Thinking in pictures
of hangmen’s chords
Thinking in feelings
of anaesthetised words
Wanting the birdsong
but surrounded by a chorus
of dead songbirds

ECT
Electro Convulsive Therapy
Might be the solution
Sessions are fast and free
NHS funded victory

Quick zap
National Grid on tap
Doctors trained
Electrocute your brain
Pulse that wattage
through the circuit main

You’ll be asleep
Dignity you’ll keep
It’s not like asylum days
when they gave no sedatives
When crazy folk were heretics
Stuff an old rag in yer gob
Physiological pyrotechnics

I remember…
No, I don’t!
Fuck you, ECT
Stealing my memories
away from me
Words, places
People, faces
Monochrome whispers
Phantom traces
Coming last
in psychological races

ECT
Electro Convulsive Therapy
Once I was blind
and now I can’t see
Obliterated my memories
I paid an excess fee

Fuck You
ECT

Sarah Drury

Big Enough

I have searched the world for answers
Hurled my soul through
stratospheres of
God is this
and God is that
Jesus the perfect
on his right hand sat
And I ate up all the questions
and spat out all the dogma
Tasting the tang
of mental health stigma
masticated into morsels of
bite sized cosmos

And I ask the heavens
“Am I good enough for God?”
Should I worship at the altar
of the footsteps Buddha trod?
I’ve prayed for acceptance
For all my life
I’ve yelled to the deities
I’ve battled through
rough pain and strife
Lunatic, heretic, mother, wife
Is the universe having a laugh?
It’s slaughtered my dignity
with a hellfire-blade knife
and I hang on with a tiny glimmer
of hope

I’ve knelt down on one knee
to the Goddess of the moon
Pleaded to the archangels
Asked if my repentance
would be respected soon
Sung hymns to
a maverick’s tune
Praised and praised and praised
And meditated for days
Heart in a coma, head in a daze
Swallowed esoteric words
Which the new agers say
will lead to my enlightenment

I’ve laid on beds of crystals
Had hands lay upon my chest
Glorified the power of chakras
Searched the aura for the best
jewel in my spirit
I’ve eaten spiritual books
I’ve put God to the test
Cleansed my tainted soul
Burned the candles
Sacrificed love lest…
I meet my soulmate

And I ask myself
Am I good enough for God
As I cut myself down
And throw off my crown
And I meditate
And my heart creates
And the universe then satiates
And I hear a voice
A tiny voice inside my head
At first I couldn’t make out
the venerated words it said
But the universe spoke
and my full heart heard
And I knew it was God
who spoke the words

“Am I big enough for YOU?!”

©2020 Sarah Drury

Ava

Twenty stone of unadulterated Goddess
Bones embellished with beauty
Heart as full as a cherry blossom in Spring
Each cascading petal the lips of
Venus planting kisses on the weary
and troubled
Compassion is her gift that’s doubled
within her sacred soul

Ava went to the pool one day
Gracious, bountiful stature
Ignorance cruising to bruise her
Modest, mindful, marvellous,
Measly, mocking men, miserable males
making misogynist mallarky
Ava, in her infinite wisdom
whispers
‘I am what I am’

‘She’s fat, she’s farmyard fodder
Hairy legs disgust me
Stomach like a pregnant whale
Who would woo a whore
while wishing for
a wanton wank
Never seen as ugly
and her armpits stank
Ava, in her infinite wisdom
whispers
‘I am what I am’

Men being fools, being stupid
Flirting with the girls, playing cupid
Stupid is what stupid does its true
Diving in, showing off
Haven’t got a clue
Till tragedy struck
Man hits head and oh fuck
What do we do, what do we do?

Ava could have turned a blind eye
She could have looked up to the sky
and said karma, you get what you give
You mess up, you die
You spend your days in states of grace
You flow, you live
Ava, in her infinite wisdom
whispers
‘I am what I am’

Twenty stone of goddess
Her mermaid tale she wears
Forgetting the taunts and the cruelty
Saving souls she smoothly sails
In sanguine stars of shining saviours
Man finds breath of life within
this once monstrosity
And she stands there
Shining like a lighthouse
in a sea of misogynists
Ava
in her infinite wisdom
whispers
‘I am what I am’

This smattering of
shit on the sole of her sanctity
Their scathing tongues
are scarred with silence
In their mocking eyes
cataracts of prejudice are stripped
with non-judgmental fingers
Their taunts and wicked words
should linger
But
Ava’s words
echo in whispering mantras
‘I am what I am’

©2020 Sarah Drury

Fat Ass

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Meditating

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Thinking I am Buddha’s besty

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
To think Brenda said that
Elaine said that Jenny said
that Sonia had been arrested
for doing naked yoga
with her saggy tits
on the London Eye
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss….
Oh, I so want a fag
But John said I smell
like a discarded smoker’s lung
from a lung transplant
I could neck a bottle of Prosecco
I know I mustn’t crave
I’m like Satan
with a lighter fuel addiction
and a match
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
Oh shit, did I switch
the hair straighteners off?
And did I clean the toilet
and get some more air freshener
cos Sophie’s coming round
tonight
with her Irritable Bowels
Focussss…

Fat ass on the chair
Breathing in the air
Focussss…
Oh good its Coronation Street tonight
Gail caught that Roy
putting weed in the
chocolate brownies
after she jumped off
the top of the viaduct
thinking she was
Harry Potter paying quidditch
Focusss…

And stop
And breathe
And open my eyes

Ahhhhh
That went well

©2020 Sarah Drury