A phantom that inhabits me wherever I go

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I am in the cafe and veil myself in the proficiency a cup of coffee and a laptop presents. Today I am ok, but I have dragged displacement about me like a weight or like a phantom that inhabits me wherever I go. Only in the creative process of my work is this distilled and centres me like an internal compass, and I transmute the phantoms in the act of being an artist. I am the daughter of two migrants, each from separate countries who both fled or were war damaged. I was born in England but moved to Ireland over 20 years ago. I have negotiated 4 cultures now but belong to none. I look to what dissolves these boundaries that people are so fixed on. When I make work, I am exhilarated, it is the only thing that dissolves the unbelonging I have felt all my life. The atmospheric silent invisible treacle that can bind me is also dissolved when I meet others like me and it has taught me to find a meeting place and empathic listening in all people I encounter and somehow people give me their stories. It’s like I have been an atmospheric barometer all my life to work out the nuances of what is going on. This habit comes from being a child in situations where you are having to learn ways of being other people have embedded in them from being born in a place of belonging. I try not to dwell on displacement anymore, but it is a dwelling, it is where we , the others, dwell.

More than a physical move, border crossing allows you to make an entire switch to yourself

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project by Nicola Anthony

Borders. Crossing them, escaping from the place I know, finding myself in this curious and thirsty mood of experiencing difference and freedom in this place where I'm a newcomer. I believe that borders have created these feelings in me since I remember. In the last few years, it almost became a necessity for me to run away from routine by making a move to 'somewhere else'. Some more place to discover, to enjoy with a feeling of having to worry about nothing but the wind on your face. One year ago, I turned depressive. In the last months, this urge to escape from what makes me suffer and I feel stuck in has become more and more pressing, until I moved to Dublin. I wanted it, despite the heartbreak caused by leaving my truly loved ones, the ones I never get bored of. However, if you can escape people and events, a disease is something you can not run away from. Things are getting more manageable, but remain far from being fixed. During the last weeks, I have been continuously asking myself the question of what does a 'move' really mean. I found out that for me, rather than an escape, moves and border crossings are mostly a way of taking some distance and put you in a mood of being ready to learn again, from others, from cultures, from differences, from freedom and experiences. More than a physical move, border crossing allows you to make an entire switch to yourself.

It was just a way to delay me and create a barrier

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project by Nicola Anthony

I had an appointment booked at the PPS office in Dublin to acquire a PPS card to enable me to be part of Irish society, and received racist treatment, judgement, blocking me from getting a PPS number even though I have every right to one, and then a complete change of attitude once they realised my company had arranged the appointment for me after an international relocation.

I do not look Irish, I look Asian. After I have witnessed the rudeness to me, the deliberate obstruction of the office staff blocking me from a PPS number, and the rude attitude to others in the waiting room that I also observed, it is my belief that everyone who passes through that PPS office as an immigrant gets treated like 'scum'.

I felt that every effort was made to create a difficult situation that will block or scare or confuse those who are eligible for a PPS number as well as those who are not. I understand that some may be there asking for a PPS and benefits when they are not eligible, but I believe there is a polite, non-personal, non emotional process to determine this without creating fictional barriers, without judgement and prejudice, and without treating each candidate derisively 'until proven otherwise'.

I don't know if all staff working there have the same attitude as I only interviewed with one person. However, I do know that she had a big sign printed up telling me why I was not eligible, and the information on it was contradictory to what my relocation company (IrishRelo) had told me the requirements were. This means that the PPS office is giving out different and incorrect information, not the factual information that the relocation companies advise on and as the policies are set out.

I will explain what actually happened step by step:

  1. I have moved to Ireland with my husband who works for a corporate here, we are married so I require a PPS for tax purposes, I was also asked for PPS by my landlord (so I think you need it for renting but I am not sure), and I also want to learn to drive so I needed it for a provisional driving license.

  2. My husband went for his appointment separately to me, accompanied by Irish Relo, and he is a tall white guy - rarely running into discrimination! His experience was very pleasant, smooth, and friendly. I was not expecting anything different as I also had the paperwork from Irish relo, had gone through their checklist of what to bring, and arrived with my marriage certificate etc.

  3. When I spoke to the person in charge of my appointment, she was very rude and abrupt, I told her that my husband and I just moved over, the details of his company and that I would need the PPS for marriage tax and tax purposes, as well as to learn to drive.

  4. She said that I cannot get a PPS number unless I have proof that I need one. I showed her the marriage certificate and she said this is not proof. I showed her emails from his company and she said that this does not mean that I require a PPS or am entitled to one, just because he is working.

  5. I mentioned that I would not be able to do simple things like go to the doctors or take driving lessons if I did not have a PPS, but she said I would need proof that I am learning to drive.

  6. I explained again that I need a PPS simply to apply for the Irish provisional license so I would not be able to have proof yet - I asked what would be considered proof in my case, and she said a driving license application form. I said this was ridiculous as it takes 1 minute to download and print one and anyone can print one - it is not proof one way or the other so why did I need to provide this? It was just a way to delay me and create a barrier.

  7. I pulled out the checklist I had printed off, that Irish Relo had given me stating (in the PPS office's invite letter) the list of items I needed to have with me, and I checked off each one as present. She took the list off me and threw it in her bin, and I demanded it back.

  8. She kept saying that I need to go and get proof, and would have to arrange another appointment (which would take 1-2 weeks)

  9. Finally, I managed to point out to her that Irish Relo had sent me, at which point she suddenly realised that I should not be categorised in her mind as 'immigrant' aka 'undeserving person', but as 'high earning expat, working for a corporate'. In that moment her whole expression and demeanour changed, and suddenly she was as helpful as she could be. She produced a blank driving license application form which she had a pile of in her draw, and told me to add my name. She processed my paperwork and issued a PPS number. Why was I getting this different treatment now? Why was I a diffent case in her eyes?

  10. I was grateful that I had managed to break through her wall of prejudice, but I was so saddened at the stark contrast between her treatment of me when she had categorised me as one thing or the other, and the different treatment towards my white husband. It showed me a very two-faced organisation who, given their purpose and their audience, should surely be regulated on their treatment of people and be trained to keep a neutral response.

Whatever is happening here, and whether or not she has on other occasions been right about non-eligibility for a PPS number, there was no need for such an attitude of prejudice, derision and disparagement. I was saddened as I looked around the room and saw others who may have had much more difficult journeys to get to Ireland than I have, may need the PPS number much more than I do, and now have to face the belittling attitude of this woman as one of their first 'welcomes' into the country. Potentially other administrators have the same checklist (it was a printed out list in shouting capital letters with an official logo). I believe the checklist itself was incorrect and should not be allowed as they are the official issuing office of the PPS.

I also observed lots of processes that cause anger, annoyance and dismissive behaviour in the staff and the visitors - for example all who book appointments are given set times, (mine was 10.15), and then told to wait - we have to go in to the booth when our time-slot comes up. There was no communication that they were running over an hour late, they did not call the name of the next appointment, there was no ticket-line system, and people keep getting up worrying that they had missed their appointment or that someone else has skipped ahead. I was lucky that english is my first language and I could approach a staff member to ask, and I could also be brave enough to ask those around me and understand that they were ahead of me in the queue. Others were not feeling so brave - Especially for those who are nervous, or did not have English as their first language, this was extremely confusing. By time people get into their appointment an atmosphere of stress, worry, impatience and confusion has been created in the applicants. Meanwhile an 'observation' of how rude and impatient immigrants are, is being constantly reinforced in the minds of the administrators - surely these processes could be evolved for a better experience for all rather than fostering racism from day one?

Citizen of the universe

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project by Nicola Anthony

I jokingly call myself a citizen of the universe. Ireland is my third home after moving here more than 10 years ago. Though I love living here, I am not fully satisfied with my life. As I am getting older, I start to feel that I do not have strong roots and therefore do not belong... does this make me sad? Some days it sure does. I chose a hard path - immigration. Did I have some wonderful adventures? Absolutely! I met amazing people along that path and made great friends. But that lack of a sense of belonging keeps bothering me...

It marked me forever, being different

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I crossed borders literally and metaphorically. Before EU my biggest fear was immigration police. I have encountered them and I had luck not to get into trouble on multiple occasions. But it haunted me in everything I did, it marked me forever, being different, not being allowed to do things as non national, as an alien. I made the journey to change my life and I did, but fear always followed. Being told' this is my country' by a native, being told I cannot do certain things because of an accent marked my psyche.

It would be striking up a conversation with a stranger, where I would share that instant chemistry with and enjoy their attention, connection and the impromptu friendship and vulnerability.

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

It would be striking up a conversation with a stranger, where I would share that instant chemistry with and enjoy their attention, connection and the impromptu friendship and vulnerability. That gives me an unexpected happiness - as it gives some sort of hope that this conversation and acquaintance could grow into something more? A guilty pleasure/confession is feeling very satisfying, watching people who offended me and hurt me get their Karma pay-back, which always makes them suffer x10 more than what they did to me. That makes me happy and scared of my own self at the same time. The other confession is that there are some guys that would come across to me as intelligent and arrogant and hard to get - I like to use that chemistry I have with them and act completely uninterested and cold - other times low-key flirt - and just play with their minds. I need to stop doing that though.

All I can see is shadows of past dreams and windows gloating at me

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I was once sure of what I wanted, when I was a child. But as I grew up, I realised my options grew with me too. So I tried to narrow them down to a few routes. And I started walking on those routes. And so, I walked and walked even as the ground started to feel more bumpy and I started regretting and doubting. Was it because, I really wasn't as good as I thought? Why did I feel stumped the more further away I went and my shoulders heavier with the weight of doubt and insecurity?

When I was young, whenever I felt downtrodden by my failures, somehow I had the drive to go on. In the past, things were clearer to me, which road I would take and not look back. But now, I look down and the road has stopped. Countless times, I have looked back, unsure of my decisions. Now I am blocked by my own fear. I see people far away, achieving greater things yet they are so much younger than me. I know it doesn't actually matter the age as long as you keep trying, but with each tick-tocking, I feel rushed. Rushed to not disappoint my younger self, to reach somewhere, to achieve something. As the time passes, the sound grows louder and faster. And yet, I find myself on a standstill. Turning back from where I am, I no longer know where I want to go, the directions in my mind are a jumbled mess. What am I going to do now? The roads are no longer clear to me. All I can see is shadows of past dreams and windows gloating at me , the success that seems unreachable, that I didn't try hard enough. That I wouldn't make it anywhere. That I am nothing. So I close my eyes and try to sleep these feelings away.

I am me, not an example

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I am person who really not say been through alot but i would like to say going through times where i got scolded and punished by my parents, i really hope that a have a 2nd personality to cope with me through those times. I have stolen from my family a number of times, some might say i am young.. well i have to agree but now thinking back , Hey! I just wanted to be noticed. I was the oldest out of 3 children, and i was always told since i am the oldest i have to set an example. But now i know, i am me, not an example, i want to try and find the path i want to go and strive towards it, I am not the oldest I am me.

Chased after by those I don't want, and rejected by those I do.

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

I've been through a lot of online 'relationships'. At the end of the day, it was just helping much older men pleasure themselves. I was too young, and I never should've started, but I don't know why I didn't stop, either. Maybe it was the power I had over them- a young child, reigning over an older man's pleasure? The control I didn't have in my life, I had it online. To me, then, it was like I was living a double life. It was thrilling, and my friends would always look up at me for the experiences I had.

Of course, that quickly led to a exposure that happened too young; too fast.

I never saw their face, and they never saw mine, but being in direct control over their pleasure had a certain sort of intimacy which you couldn't find at my age. By then, I'd been hit on, used as masturbation material, had over half a dozen unwarranted, inappropriate pictures shoved in my face, and even called a slut simply because I refused to sext with him anymore. Recently, someone even tried to blackmail me with pictures that he didn't have- a bluff he called a joke.

I've also met some in real life, and some have lead to experiences that sometimes, I wasn't so sure of. But it was always about the fun, about the stress relief it brought. On the other hand...I've always wondered, if because of these past experiences, I would become undesirable to the people I'm romantically attracted to. Already because of my gender and sexuality, but with these past experiences...who knows, though, because I've always been rejected by them.

The irony. Chased after by those I don't want, and rejected by those I do.

You'll learn to dance even in the storm

This is an anonymous story collected from the public as part of the Human Archive Project

A part of me believe, I am something more than I am now. But a part of me disagree with that. I am searching for something but I do not know what it is. I am a dreamer but I am also a realist.

Life is interesting and it's always moving but sometimes I wished it could go slower or stop when I am exhausted or even skip some parts of it and just get to the easy part. But thats what makes life is. Something you can actually control little by little even if you do not have the courage or faith to do so but you'll learn to dance even in the storm.

I've learnt to embrace my flaws

I'm tired.

I'm really tired of being happy, enthusiastic and pretending that everything is okay. These were the qualities that enabled me to survive. Some who know who I really am - I'm a terrible introvert. I hate going out. I hate socialising. I dont like to be happy and enthusiastic all the time.

Growing up in a very restrictive and strict family -

There were times when I was younger when I thought about suicide- I was 12 when I realised I had depression. But I couldn't bear it.

Why did I have depression? Well, I had pressure from doing badly in school- Failing math. My parents were so strict, I felt like a bird in a cage. It was suffocating for me.

When I was 14, I admitted to my parents about my disorder and went to a counciler. He told me I was being 'mature', but for me - I had many mixed emotions. Was I really being mature? Wasn't I a coward for not being able to cut or end myself? I had doubts but I just let it slide. (I'm glad I did)

It's been a few years since those dark days. There were definitely times when I thought about depression again, but I think I grew passed it.

I managed to be able to cope with it better. I thanked my 'cowardly' self when I was younger that I didn't manage to harm myself. I learnt to love myself more and began to start appreciating my body. Sure there were times I've wondered why I had my flaws, but then again, it's those flaws that made me who I am. Thus, with that in mind, I've learnt to embrace my flaws. After working at a service job, which made me realise many things, I grew to understand more about the adult world as well.

It's not easy to survive in the real world. I've learnt that I should use my time now and start thinking and planning for the future.

Depression, anxiety, other disorders are sure to come. More in the future.They are the obstacles in my life yet I need to learn to overcome them.

It's a tiring and tedious process, but I hope the ending of my story will end well.

I realise that something saved my life

I was 17 and was on the verge of committing suicide. It was on the very day that I decide to end my life for once and for all. I went up to level 12 of my HDB flat, ready and prepared. However when I look down from level 12, something make me stop and soon later I decide not to do it. For a while, I regret that decision. As time fly by, I realise that something saved my life. Till to today, I still wondering what was that something that make me stop doing it. At the same time, Im afraid that I have the thought of committing suicide once again.

Left out there to survive on my own

I have realised that I've been thrown into a fire by my colleagues. Rather than saving me with water, they poured oil into it instead. No one thought me anything. No one helped. Left out there to survive on my own. Was it wrong to pity them? Was it wrong to help them?

I am magnificent and at the same time worthless

I have darkness; a deep malcontent which is always searching and yearning for satiation. I am the darkness, and it is me. But, by nature, it is unseen, which means I go unseen. I feel unheard, misunderstood, unfairly judged by the world and those in it. I feel a desire for objects to hold inside me. I feel like they will keep me safe, or at the least, distracted. But they do not, because they are part of the darkness, and so the more I focus on my acquisition and achievement the most I melt away from the light and become further from my ultimate goal - to be truly seen and understood by someone.

This cycle of madness is unending, and all-encompassing. Every so often it will bring me to my knees, where I will ask God for forgiveness and guidance. I do not know if He responds, but I always end up in the same place so I think not. Or perhaps I just stop listening. I feel empty and worthless. A sense of profound insignificance plagues my waking thoughts and destroys my drive. What's the point? I ask. No reply comes. At the same time, when my ideas are challenged I feel a pain somewhere deep inside, as if someone has not only challenged my thoughts but my person; my existence.

Though I try not to show it to the people I love most, there is a large part of me which believes I am supreme. I think in a way like no other. I come to conclusions that only the best might arrive at. And every thought spoken is backed by a sea of thoughts never uttered. So you see I exist in a constant state of flux. I am magnificent. And at the same time, worthless. And all the time I am yearning for something that I can never know, for as soon as I know my desire, it moves on to something else. So what is it like to be me? Like shifting sands in the nighttime.

I am an unstable isotope

Hello.

1. I beat cancer thrice.       2. I cheat death every day.

***

"I am an unstable isotope—an anomaly; a rogue; a deviation from the conventional elements. I want to glow with radioactive effervescence for as long as my decaying life can last, and go out with a bang in a nuclear explosion."

***

3. Most days I feel suffocated.       4. Anger feels like acid coursing through my veins.

***

"The scariest moment in my life was when I was fully awake but I could not breath, I could not talk, and I could not move. My lungs felt like they had turned to stone and the intense panic from asphyxiation with my eyes wide open made me realise how insufferable it would be to be awake yet dying."

***

5. I dream of love and life

***

"June 6: I find myself missing you already. Because you were there when I was most vulnerable and you let me hold your hand until I fell asleep."

***

I don't want to be ostracised and left out

I feel like I distract myself from a lot of things that go on in my life. I try to hide or mask away the confusion or unhappiness with friends and laughter. Yes, I am genuinely content with my circle of friends but there are just times where one feels inferior. Why can't I be popular? Why can't I be pretty? Why can't I be intelligent? I know these things are far from what matter in life. Things that should matter are values and beliefs and sincerity but I can't help but to think about these factors about my life. They affect your self-esteem and social circle so much. I'm so afraid of doing something that will cause unrest in others. I don't want to be ostracised and left out. Everyone wants to feel included and feel a sense of belonging. I know i'm not the only one that feels all this but at the same time, I want to be all these things. I'm scared but I don't show it to others. I want to be loved and to love others. I don't know how or what is my true self anymore. I'm scared to be real. I'm scared to be judged. I'm scared of being different but i hate being typical. I don't know what to do.