AUDIO: Notes from therapy

A reading of a poem I wrote about my fear of death...

I’d spent an entire therapy session discussing my fear of death, and the people I love dying and came out the session to a crumpled up bus, a motorcyclist on the ground - the crash had happened just ten to fifteen minutes before.

I almost had an out-of-body experience on the way home, where everything I felt and what had led me to this point in my life made sudden sense. It’s this I’m trying to capture in the poem I read in the audio (and below) discussing how being afraid of death has led me to embrace even the smallest moments of joy in my life…

The article I mention, my feature on my experiences with therapy and whether we all “need” it, is here.

What do you think? Have you been to therapy for your grief? This is something I’d love to delve into more, so would be incredible to hear your experiences. And do let me know if there’s anything you’d like me to write about/investigate!

The kids say it was all the white cars fault 
While the motorbike lies on its side, and the neighbours whisper
He's lucky to be alive

There's this thing I say, almost daily
We are not ambulance drivers
And here I am, stepping over leaked kerosene
Past the crumpled 154, seeing them try, try, try

So who am I? To pathetically call my therapist
Over a dead cat and that crumbling cliff face
The hill I climbed that now turns to rubble around me?

I said to her, five minutes before
We are always close to death
Nothing is safe
She replied: "you keep that in the forefront of your mind?"
I laughed: "where else would I place it?"

Then the body on the ground, the blue sky
It's like I'm on mushrooms again
I am Truman, this is my show
Everything is orchestrated to another's demand

Then my bra begins to bite, nipping and reminding me 
This isn't a fantasy and I'm no one's doll
So I eat a tub of melted ice cream in a fading patch of sun
Where else would I place it?