Poem: Growing into Myself (As Performed at Lowercase Poetry Night @ Medusa Bar Geelong 10.08.23)

Photo by Joshua Maxwell de Hoog

This was my first ever public reading of one of my poems and the piece was written for a poetry night held by Lowercase Poetry the same week as I decided to re-join society after a hibernation working up courage to leave my cave. I wrote my name down as second to read for the night to get my jitterbugging out of the way, not seeing the person originally who invited me to go. Before that I was attempting to be a little social since I figured the person may have been running late or it could have been a clever trick to get the socially awkward one to socialise which if it was that I was amazed in the positive sense as it was a good plan, I probably needed to. I followed that thought, starting to talk to people at the event to make more connections. I viewed the whole thing as 'scary stuff sometimes help us to grow. Let's grow through this'. I was nervous about standing up putting a small piece of my soul on display, more so than when I sing because at least then the melody can smooth shaking from my voice and this was a part I largely kept from people most. I was the closeted poet stepping into a very real, bright light I couldn't hide from and how I wanted to shine under it.

So... I did.

10/08/23

Growing into Myself

By Alex Adorno (Theme: hide & seek)

When I was young, I learned to cloak myself in mass-produced personalities to get by without being hurt. A fancy coat one day for the grandeur of a comedic thespian, a smiling mask with graceful lace handwoven with politeness of “how may I help you today, sir?” attached,

All these things are clothes I speed through on the daily.

Sometimes I trip on pant-legs of anxiety attempting to put something else on,

Hopping from foot to foot before faceplanting to the ground.

Others have these high-tech wardrobes they use presets for appropriate situations.

Then there is me; I have to walk down the hallway, unlock a door, walk across another room,

Open the wardrobe, sift through unsorted piles of comfortable jeans, pirate attire, disco balls,

And who knows what else then put together something that matches.

Some of the clothes in piles I toss aside are tainted from times I’d rather forget, torn from overuse,

or have moths eating at them,

ill-fitting at best, harmful at worst.

After I’ve found things that match, I double-check this is the right occasion.

Somehow regardless of my efforts, I end up under or overdressed flabbergasting somebody in the room.

I’d overthink to moderate and check myself against others ensuring I would be well met when I was young, paying little mind to how I felt in contrast to what others needed me to be.

Feelings flooded me quickly then, so I learned hideaway spells for both my feelings and my true self shrinking down so small eventually even I became lost in the wardrobe too.

In a state of anonymity to myself now, I chase my identity across time to hear their echoed chimes of laughter from the empty cupboards I riffle through hoping to catch a glimpse of anything to show my path was assured as unwind who I was under the performance.

With myself no closer to being witnessed in truth, it can be disheartening at times feeling aimless and that your soul isn't your own to obtain.

That somehow you lost yourself over the many years between your earliest memory and now without even a chance to say goodbye.

Yet, I stand here today seeking myself still evolving ever tripping onwards, failing forward as one might say with each mistake I learn from.

The anxiety I once tripped over is a manageable size nowadays as I started growing into my feelings. I’m upcycling it into excitement for my future to carry me onwards, taking stock of what I can influence, acting to change what doesn’t serve and self-soothing where I can.

I'm unsure who I'm seeking will become, and I'm able to stand up on my own nakedly honest in my utter unknown to say I'm the adult with a long way to grow.