My life is full of liminality because it is full of contradictions.
I have an illness that makes me live a kind of half-life, inside and outside society, part of and apart from the world at the same time.
I am dependent on family and welfare, and therefore not a ‘genuine’ (i.e. employed and taxpaying) adult; while illness stole away part of my childhood, meaning I am trapped somewhere in-between childhood and adulthood.
I’ve often felt innocent and naïve, yet also old and wise before my time.
I am introverted and introspective, but also, at times, desirous of expressing myself in extroverted and uninhibited ways.
I am free to do what I want in the sense that I do not have a job or other responsibilities; at the same time I am held captive by circumstances, and can do very little.
I prefer to stay at home where I feel safe and secure, but I also have a desire to escape to places far, far away.
I love my home for being my refuge, but sometimes hate it for being my prison.
I am quiet on the outside, but my interior has often boiled with passions.
I enjoy and require solitude, but can also feel desperately lonely; I sometimes yearn for company and relationships, while at other times I find people smothering.
My moods shift regularly from calmness to storminess, happiness to depression, enthusiasm to apathy.
I am a creature of inner and outer worlds, the underworld and the topside world.
My life is a mass of edges, boundaries and contradictions.
(Adapted from a draft of my ‘life story’ that I wrote in 2013.)