I take a calming breath, then step up to the microphone. Here, in this crowded bar, I know that, despite my nerves, reading out my poetry will be a joyous experience.
I had been attending these open mics for a year and this was my first time performing. As a student, I had been active and sociable, but a period of mental ill health in my early 20s dented my confidence. I am partially sighted, too, which means going somewhere new can be daunting; I can miss the visual cues for striking up conversation, while navigating unfamiliar surroundings is tricky. By the time I was 28, I was stuck in a cycle of safe activities, such as dinner with my circle of friends in our go-to restaurants.
I also felt disconnected from my community in Stoke-on-Trent, Staffordshire, where I had moved for university. Sometimes, I felt lonely, especially as most of my uni friends now lived further away – social occasions were something that needed to be planned weeks in advance. I didn’t know many people locally any more and realised I needed to do something to forge new connections.
Then a new friend of my husband asked if we wanted to join her at a poetry open mic that night. I was unsure – at the time, I often felt an internal resistance to new experiences. But I knew I had to move forward.
We arrived at the bar and perched on stools at the back. It was busy. I sipped my drink awkwardly. Then the person opposite said hello and we chatted until the host took to the stage. Everyone applauded and cheered as the poets performed. During breaks, I chatted to others with ease. These were people who lived in the same city as I did. They were sharing their poetry with one another, laughing and joking. I was hooked. It reignited the spark of impromptu nights out that seemed to belong to a past version of me. I remembered how much I loved the shared experience of art.
I became a regular and started to recognise familiar faces, looking forward to catching up over a pint of cider and spoken-word poetry. The acquaintance who had first invited me soon became a good friend.
And it wasn’t just the poetry night. I started trying other experiences, eager to make more connections within my community. Yes to a gig at that new venue. Yes to a community fair. I was moving out of my comfort zone. I posted on Facebook to ask for recommendations of places to visit locally and soon found myself exploring a beautiful country park with a friend. I now feel a stronger connection with my adopted home town and with the people who live here.
Watching others perform their poetry, I was inspired to write my own. Standing on the stage two years ago, reading my fledgling poems, I felt buoyed by the community spirit. That open mic showed me the joy of stepping out of my comfort zone. It helped me find myself again. I am beginning to feel that I belong.
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