I'm at my next appointment with Bob. It's just a quick appointment today. He let's me know that I have been accepted into the Evening Treatment Program. They just have one condition, that I stop drinking alcohol one month before I start the program and no drinking during the program. I tell him that is no problem. I actually hate drinking when I am depressed. He asks me how the Zoloft is going, I tell him it is fine. He lets me know that there is about a two to three month wait to get into the program. They will call me in a couple of weeks, before my start date, to let me know when I will start. He lets me know that there is a support group every Friday that I can attend while I am waiting to get in. It's completely voluntarily. I tell him it is something I will definitely take advantage of. I leave his office smiling, I am excited that I got accepted. I am nervous as hell but ready to deal with my demons and move forward.
It's Friday and I am getting ready to go to the support group. I am feeling extremely nervous. Am I really going to sit in a room full of strangers, talking about our problems? I get in my car and head to the hospital. I park my car far away in a neighbourhood so I can get free parking. I am walking toward the hospital and every foot I get closer the more my heart beats. My heart is pounding, I am freaking out. How many people are going to be in this support group? Am I going to be the one with the most issues? Am I the most fucked up? Should I even do this? I get to the hospital early, it's still a half an hour till support group starts. I keep walking by the Psychiatric Clinic doors like a creepy stalker. I tell myself I can just run away, I don't have to do this. The support group is voluntary I am not even required to go to this. But then I think to myself if I can't even go to the support group, what makes me think I can go to group therapy five days a week, every evening.
I finally walk through the doors. I always worry that someone I know will see me walk into the Psychiatry Clinic. The stigma around mental health is just as bad as the stigma around HIV. Mental Health = crazy. HIV = dirty. There is quite a few people in the waiting room. Is everyone waiting, here for the support group? I guess not all, some are probably here for just regular appointments. All of a sudden two therapists show up and say, everyone here for support group follow us. A whole whack of us follow them to a room setup for the support group. I take a seat and wait for everyone else to get seated. I am nervous, there are a lot of people here. At least with a lot of people here, I can probably get away with not talking. One of the therapists passes around a sign in sheet, and goes over the rules of support group. A woman all of a sudden starts crying and talks about why she is there. (To respect privacy I won't mention details about people), she talks about how she was diagnosed with an illness recently. She is worried about how it will affect her life and what people will think about her. She was diagnosed with MS. A few people speak up and offer her words of encouragement. Some people share stories about how they relate. I am trying to work the courage to speak up. I can relate, I have HIV. I want to help her, I don't even think about how sharing will help me, the thought doesn't even cross my mind. I feel so bad for her and want her to feel better. But at the same time, am I really going to tell a room full of people that I have HIV? A disease that has such a huge stigma around it. I finally speak up and tell her I can relate. In March of 2010 I was diagnosed with HIV, it was a few months before I told my closest friends. She asks me how they took it. I tell her they took it really well, they felt really sad for me. They were also angry that I waited to tell them, that I held it in for those few months. They don't treat my any differently. They still treat me as the same friend I was and continue to be. One of the therapists asks me if I would like to hear feedback from the group. I say yes I guess. I think to myself, I thought I was just relating, not really trying to share. A few people talk about how brave I was to share with the group, how it took a lot of courage. A few relate with illness they have. I sit there, relieved that everyone was so supportive, I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it is called support group.
Even though I am relieved, my face is burning with embarrassment, I feel embarrassed that I shared that with complete strangers. Support group ends, we all leave the room, we quietly and awkwardly (awkward for me at least) walk down the hallways and out of the Psychiatry Clinic. We all go our separate ways. I let out a huge sigh of relief and feel proud of myself. Now to try and keep that courage and show up to next weeks support group.
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