I felt alone throughout the pain of infertility

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

I felt alone throughout the pain of infertility. Being the only one not to conceive, not to fall pregnant, not to give birth or raise a child among my family, friends and work colleagues was incredibly lonely. Not only did I feel excluded from all the joy others were experiencing, but I also felt excluded because my grief wouldn't allow me to share or be part of their joy. To my great sadness, I even found it difficult to be on my own - the pain was so profound. My life was off-track for the best part of 10 years and I couldn't imagine a future without my own children. But through hill-walking, counselling and a loving husband, but I have found inner peace, and with it a new appreciation of life itself.

I will be gloriously ugly and unapologetically queer

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

I've always known that I am ugly, and that has brought with it loneliness all through my life. This ugliness has been confirmed again and again by the society I was raised in, through years and years of bullying, harassment, staring and laughing.

Then came the realisation that I am ugly and queer, and double the abuse - from the established heterosexual norms, and also my queer peers. Children have always whispered and laughed at my appearance. Cars driving by at night throw glass bottles and food out their windows at me. It's predictably resulted in a lot of anxiety, depression, and isolation.

Regardless, I made it my mission to thrive and to live. I found my tribe, I found love, passion, reasons to keep going. But over the years they have all disappeared. My tribe have all moved away, my love turned to heartbreak, passions seem pointless now and my reasons to keep going have literally died. All this, compounded with the daily reminder of my inherent ugliness, has me at a unique point that I've never been in. Not suicidal, never suicidal, but something I can't quite put to words. Tired to my bones and lost in a fog. I don't know what to do, how to go on, how long I can manage, but I have faith in myself to keep trying.

Even just to see the sunrise every night. I've made it this far with this much against me, who knows what could be next. I'll face it. I'll face it all, and I will be gloriously ugly and unapologetically queer while facing it. My grotesque existence is an act of beautiful defiance.

I guess that means I have not really settled down yet

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

I left China to Singapore 2007 and after 12 years later I have established my own family with my husband who is from Australia with our two kids. Though living in an Asian country, I do feel missing home all the time or rather compare things against those back home or anywhere I have been to. I guess that means I have not really settled down yet. And I don’t know where I will be settling down in the future.

Love people - even the 'hard-to-love' ones

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

I have educated myself out of a pattern of 'fixing' others, wanting to please others and into a space of self care, with compassion for self AND others. I have overcome bullying and discrimination in the workplace, made many friends along life's path and disconnected from the toxic people who have come across my meanders. I am eternally curious, love learning, love people - even the 'hard-to-love' ones. I savour the many simple moments of joy in a day, and seek to create and share more of these with others....life is too short to be bitter or miserable.... there are times of sadness usually the loss felt when love of someone so strong has died....and there have been many... I don't wish, I dream and do!

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.