By social standards I am a pretty lucky human being. I was born in a first world country well after World War II. Even though I am a Protestant, my religion does not matter in my part of the world. I am white, well educated, and speak more or less three languages next to my native one. I have travelled the world, have had affairs, loved and suffered from broken hearts and am now living in one of the most exciting cities in the world. I have a nice apartment I share with someone I love and which I can pay for without thinking about how to afford food or clothes. I am a really lucky person.
By social standards I am also a woman. Continue reading
This may come as a surprise to many people who have met me in person, but I do not consider myself an extrovert. At least I don’t anymore.
As a child, I found it easy to make friends in any situation. As an adult, I can be very talkative and outgoing, especially in the right setting. Any of my friends or family knows that it’s often impossible to shut me up once I get going. I love to tell stories, and I love to hear a room full of people laughing at my jokes and one-liners. Continue reading
© Light of Life Foundation
Theme: I am not…
by Laura Gene
I am not a cancer survivor.
But I’m not back from the dead to write this either.
After moving to Singapore, my body began to break down. I thought I might be losing my mind, for real this time. My first endocrinologist tried to convince me that it was all in my head. Your tests are normal. Your biopsy was fine. Maybe you just need to talk to someone. Moving to a new country can be hard and stressful.
Thirty-three years old and my body ached as if I’d had all my joints replaced with rusted metal fixtures. Waking up in the morning was a challenge, at best. My body was now weighed down and only able to function ‘normally’ with brute force. Must – go – to – work. Must – get – groceries. I subjected my poor Kyle to unfiltered mood swings and often ended up on the couch at night waiting to pass out from exhaustion, no longer able to cry. In the midst of it all, none of it made sense.
Who knew a tiny little butterfly organ in my neck could throw my whole world into a tailspin? Continue reading
Earlier this year, the eldest sibling in our family began looking into how we treat our environment and its animals. What he discovered led him to make some drastic changes, including becoming a strict vegan. Strict, as in, morally and ethically regarding the treatment of animals for human purposes as a form of slavery.
Good on him, I said. Me and me boyfriend had read Eating Animals the year before and it was my older brother who had pushed cooked chorizo from his wife’s native Spain under our noses last Christmas. I remember taking the chunk with a toothpick thinking, Why can’t people respect I’m cutting out meat? Red oil dribbling down my chin. Continue reading
I said this sitting opposite the business end of an incredulous face. How can you not think you’re beautiful, he said. Why does it matter; do you think you’re beautiful? I poignantly retorted. I don’t know… I’ve never thought about it.
And that is my fucking point. Continue reading