Author: Sarah L, boshemia magazine, Personal Essay

Growing Up Poor

I grew up very poor.

Saying that feels like ‘coming out’ as poor. It’s a hard thing to admit, and an even harder thing to own. It’s only really been in the past couple of years that I have fully recognised and accepted my identity as ‘working class’, and being ‘from a poor family’. Every time I talk about growing up poor I feel horrendously guilty and ungrateful, as though I am insulting and criticising my parents by acknowledging it—but that’s part of the whole problem.

fam sepia

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author: alex n, mental health, Personal Essay

Sometimes, I Don’t Feel Anything

cw; mental health, depression

Two paper bags on my floor, several errant socks and a pile of clothes at the end of the bed (and spilling out of the washing basket). Dinner was a prepacked sandwich and two bars of chocolate. I think it’s been over a month since I called home. It’s been worse than this. At least this I could clean up in half an hour, or less. No mounds of orange plastic bags or infestations of flies. Chemical air freshener over the smell of rot. Not this time, at least.

No one knows how bad it got. I can’t find a way to talk about it that makes sense, and the words come out like I’m spitting wet hair. I’ve deleted and rewritten these sentences several times already because I feel like I’m admitting a terrible a secret, that people will view me differently. That they will see me as something wrong. Or that my words will be trite, because they add nothing to the conversation. My intention isn’t to be dramatic, or imply that I’m unique in how I feel. Just to articulate something difficult.

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Boshemia Staff, Creative, guest writer, Personal Essay

Notes on Regaining Autonomy II // Loss and Loneliness

Boshemia staff Elisha writes from her very core in the second installment of “Notes on Regaining Autonomy“.


The passing of time is a strange and powerful entity.

The proverbial saying is that time heals all wounds.

But what time masterfully produces in equal part,

Is the culling of experiences:

A “collected works” comprised of joy, struggle, learning, love, and loss.


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author: sarah q, letters, Personal Essay, Uncategorized

A Letter To My Fresher Self

Dear Me

Congrats! Your 24 year old self just graduated medical school and is about to start work. As a doctor. A real one in a hospital and everything. You’ll make it. Pretty soon, you’ll figure out that it’s just beginning, and that there’s a whole minefield of a world outside medical school, but that’s future us problem.

If I recall correctly, little baby 19-year-old Sarah in her lame band t shirts and lack of lipstick (that’ll change SOON) was spending the summer of 2012 panicking; what if you don’t get the grades to get into med school *again? What if you get in and immediately flunk out? You’ll read a blog called “The Secrets of Peninsula,” and freak the fuck out – what kind of medical school makes first years sit 5th year exams four times a year?


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guest writer, Personal Essay, travel

Finding Comfort In the Unknown || New Steps

Kelsey Stoneberger returns to Boshemia in her guest post, “Finding Comfort in the Unknown.” She writes on the experience of the unknown after finishing university and joining the world at large. Kelsey is a writer, poet and wandering soul.

One of my best friends recently told me—or more so insisted with no refrain—that I need to stop wasting my time not being present because I am controlling too much of the unknown. Apparently, you can’t control the unknown, who knew?

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Author: Sarah L, Personal Essay, recommendation

De-sexualising Female Nudity in Reykjavik

     On my recent trip to Iceland’s capital city I was unexpectedly confronted with a room full of naked females. No, I was not in a strip club and I hadn’t walked into the wrong place by accident. This was in the shower and locker room at Nauthólsvík, a geothermal beach located a couple of miles outside Reykjavik’s city centre, and I later learned that it was perfectly standard practice.


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guest writer, LGBT+, Personal Essay

Notes from the Closet

Guest article by Erin Ammon. Erin is first and foremost a romantic, often found swooning in parks, saving bugs, browsing art galleries after hours, and engaging in intellectual banter over milkshakes.

I’ve spent most of my life hiding, wearing a smile, and reasoning with myself. “Maybe you’re just not doing it right,” I would say. I tried every form of self-delusion in order to convince myself that there was something wrong with me the way I naturally existed, and that if I tried hard enough, I could weave my way through the world half-fulfilled, embroiled in a lie. Every day for at least a decade, I’ve had the same circular conversation with myself. Every time, I come to the same truth and back away, telling myself “Try a little harder. This is just how it is.”

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