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.

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.

A world without borders is what we should strive for

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

Originally from a small town I have mostly lived in big cities in many countries all my adult life. I carry with me memories of inspirational people from many places and an awareness that now more than ever a world without borders is what we should strive for.

My identity which is made up and borrowed and assembled like a jigsaw puzzle

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

i'm rootless. i carry a passport that has no relationship to my identity, my identity which is made up and borrowed and assembled like a jigsaw puzzles were the pieces just don't fit together. i can't claim a nation, a culture, a language, dna that is 'my people'. i have an irish name but i am not irish - i came here with my husband and i love him and i would go anywhere with him - but my heart beats for a home that i don't have. i want to belong somewhere and i just don't and i don't know how to start. is it something you can even start or something you just born with and know? does it come from the earth of where you were born, the religion of the rituals you perform, the ID you flash at immigration officials, the pubs you drink in?

There were many times where the thought of “Will I ever have a boyfriend, a husband in my life?” came to mind.

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

Coming from a family with strict & traditional upbringing, it had been a bumpy journey growing up. With parents setting the ground rule of “no-boyfriend-till-you-graduate”, it became awkward for me to approach such topic. There were many times where the thought of “Will I ever have a boyfriend, a husband in my life?” came to mind. After 27 years, I found the companion that I had been searching for, I never thought I would ever find that special someone to spend the rest of my life with.

That we are each a you-niverse of infinite possibilities.

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

I am happy because I finally realised I am the love I have always wanted and deserve. That we are each a you-niverse of infinite possibilities. That I am and we are slowly unlearning our way into unconditional love. That the first step is self-care. That loving yourself is one step closer to loving nature and others in an authentic, sustainable, centered way. I am grateful.

I wasn’t planning on it, but we fell in love

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

I had just gotten out of a very serious relationship because I wanted to travel and he could not understand that. I was traveling and felt like I had figured things out - I was going to explore and after, move to my home city, start working there and “settle down”. Then I met this guy and everything changed. I wasn’t planning on it, but we fell in love. We did long distance for a bit, I moved to be with him in London, and then we moved to start a life together in Singapore. While this was not how I saw my life going - I’m happy that I was open to the new path and I’m so happy I went on this unexpected journey with my now fiancé, future Husband.

The vast and unexpected mountain that is life

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

It was my 30th birthday, and while I have had some or happiest times in Singapore, it is occasions like this where the absence of friends and family from your home country is felt most deeply. It’s as if I could feel each and every step of the 10,800 km that separates you from the home in which you grew up in. As I sat up on my bed, and walked across to my kitchen, my girlfriend was instructing me to go back into the bedroom. I had no idea what was in store for me. She soon called me back into the living room, and said: “I have a very special day planned for you my dear, all I ask is that you keep an eye on your phone.”

She did not disappoint. Over the course of the day, I received 60 different video messages from friends and family across the world. I was overwhelmed with happiness. It’s as if at that point technology had help us overcome those 10,800km, and I was sitting at home in my family living room opening cards and sharing laughs all together. It turns out my girlfriend had spent the preceding weeks contacting each and everyone of the people closest to me, and asked them to send across a message. While it was the videos that brought about that moment of unexpected happiness, I cannot underplay the thoughtfulness of my partner in bringing about this moment. Her actions bring me moments of unexpected happiness each and every day, and I feel so grateful to have this person by my side, scaling the vast and unexpected mountain that is life.

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 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 fell in love with resurrecting myself

I fell in love with resurrecting myself, replacing bits and pieces of my mind that needed something newand my life became the most colourful thing

Nobody knows that I have been drinking alcohol like a mineral water

I hit to the pub, to drink. Only to find myself tipsy... and drunk. It has become a habit now. A habit where people around me do not know or taken noticed of. I hide it from family and friends as our religious has restricted us from touching alcohol. For each and every time I drink, it reminded me of..... the 44 days unforgivable from god. I don't know how to stop. Nobody knows that I have been drinking alcohol like a mineral water. It's funny, I know....

No one knows that I still miss my grandpa.

No one knows that I  still miss my grandpa. I never got to see his cremation, I never looked at his face in the casket at the wake because I was too scared that this was real, and I never got to say goodbye because my family never told me he was hospitalized until it was too late. Every time I think about him I cry, but at the same time it seemed to me that even when he was alive he never had both feet in our world at the same time. His piscean eyes always saw what came before and what would come after, he shunned doctors and walked barefoot on the road and went to subud but also went to church; he collected books about mediums and spirits and the lives we all lead (I stole one in a fit of grief, hoping I would understand him more after I read it but I haven't been able to open it yet). He looked at the clouds and at the stars, he opened his heart to animals and swindlers and children's charities; he spoiled me and my brother and he taught me to catch butterflies, to rinse sand out of my eye with a damp cloth, to be kind to my only brother, to feed the stray cats, to recognize orion's belt and venus on cloudless nights, to switch the lights off in a thunderstorm...

 

I miss you so much and it hurts worse that I never will remember the last thing I said to you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it. I’m sorry I was such a brat when I was young and I'm sorry I stopped talking to you as we got older. Did you ever find what you were looking for? Are you in heaven watching channel 5 reruns of Tanglin, or are you back here on earth as a moth or a hungry ghost, or has your soul ascended to the great ball of energetic light suspended in the 4th dimension, or will your only afterlife be the one where you still semi-live in our memory? Will i ever stop crying over you? Please forgive me. I love you so much and so does my mom and we hope you're doing okay out there (and I hope maybe I can see you again when the time comes too.)