A life reborn, finding myself one day at a time.
7 years. 7 years ago today I was diagnosed with HIV. 2555 days with HIV. 61,320 hours with HIV.
I went to the clinic to get my results. I was sure I had HIV. My friend told me I was worrying for nothing. I didn't tell her, I had unprotected sex with an HIV positive guy. A month after having sex with him, I had the worst "flu" of my life. I could barely eat, I had no energy. I lost 20 pounds in under a month. I knew what the results were going to say.
The nurse sat me down and told me "your test came back positive." She gave the speech, "it's not a death sentence, the medications are better now days, blah blah blah." I asked her how many people she has had to tell. She said I was her first. Awe, I popped her HIV diagnosis giving cherry. I told her she was doing a good job. WTF!? Typical me, putting others needs ahead of mine. Easy to do, when you have no self worth. I saw the time and said "crap, my parking time has run out. I need to go put more money in. I'll be back, I swear."
I put more money in and went back to the clinic room. She was surprised I returned. She told me I had an appointment with the infectious disease doctor in a couple of weeks, gave me some pamphlets and asked me if I needed anything. Need anything? Seriously? In 15 minutes you told me I have HIV, you gave me a bunch of pamphlets and now I need to go to work. I don't know what the fuck I need.
I got into my car, I tried to cry, I couldn't. I just started laughing. I drove to work, as I was walking from the parkade to work I texted my friend "I have HIV." She messaged me back saying that's not funny. I told her I wasn't joking. She called me, told me everything was going to be okay and that she was here for me. Maybe a text wasn't the best way to tell someone, oops.
I took a deep breath and walked into work. I knew it was going to be a difficult night. I was working till 2 am, I just received life altering news and my job was to take escalated calls from angry dick heads who didn't get their dipping sauce for their pizza. Fuck!
It didn't take long before I lost my shit on a customer. I had a woman, who had been moving all day, she said she placed an order an hour ago and there was no record of her order. I apologized, offered a discount and to rush the order, that wasn't good enough. She started crying, complaining how she moved all day with two kids and then started yelling at me. I yelled back at her and I heard her phone drop. All of a sudden a man's voice came on the line and in a concerned tone said "um hello?" I flipped out and said "I can't deal with this shit! Good bye!" and hung up on him.
I can laugh about it now. I assume he was her husband. This poor guy is probably thinking, what the hell is going on? My wife is losing it, the pizza guy is losing it, I just want some food.
7 years later. 2555 days later. 61,320 hours later. I've changed jobs a few times, I've gone a few dates, still no relationships. I've gone to group therapy and individual therapy. I've had my struggles and I've had my successes. I've grown as a person. I've set boundaries with my father. I've become closer with my mother. My friends are fucking amazing! I have small group of friends, we've been friends since high school. 17 years of friendship and counting!
Lately I've been depressed. Working has been a big source of that. Every time I feel that I am moving forward with my health, I feel like work takes me 5 steps back. Butt! A big hairy bubble butt! Sorry wrong kind of butt. But! I have to give myself credit. Despite being depressed, I am still trying. I am still trying to eat healthy, I am still trying to make myself see my friends. This past weekend I went to a conference out of town for people living with HIV and AIDS. That was huge for me! I put myself out of my comfort zone and faced my anxiety head on.
Even though I've been depressed it doesn't have as strong of a grip on me and I can thank HIV for that. Contracting HIV was hitting rock bottom for me. Contracting HIV made me realize I needed help. It motivated me to join that group therapy program. It got me diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. It motivated me to start individual therapy with a Psychologist. It motivated me to try new things. Did I mention I started taking singing lessons last year? Something I've always wanted to do, but was to scared to do.
HIV made me realized life is too short and it has allowed me to grow and become a better person. As I write this, tears are running down my face. Some are sad tears, because to be honest obviously I would prefer to not have HIV. BUT another big hairy bubble butt! A lot of them are happy tears, proud tears that I have turned a negative into a positive (I swear no pun was intended!).
Because of HIV, I am becoming a better version of myself.
Showing posts with label mental health and hiv. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mental health and hiv. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 1, 2017
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Label Me Please
I'm cranky today. I'm sad, I'm angry. I woke up today and hate the world. I didn't want to get out of bed. I pressed snooze, over and over and over again. I finally rolled out of bed and dragged my ass to the shower. I got in my car and drove to Tim Hortons, I got myself an iced cappuccino and breakfast sandwich, hoping it would make me feel better, it didn't.
I arrived at work and was not motivated to work at all. I spun around in my chair a few times, I stared at the wall, went to the washroom even though I really didn't need to go. My co-worker and I went on a Tim Hortons run for everyone, at least I wasn't the only one not in the mood to work. Finally noon arrived and I got to go home - I am still only working half days due to my medical leave.
I'm feeling shitty and hating life, so what do I do, I go to the food court at the mall. I go back to one of my bad behaviours and get greasy bad food. This time I select Chinese food, I haven't had Chinese food in a long time. I take it to go and head home. I go to my room, throw on a Criminal Minds dvd and eat my Chinese food in my bed. Was the Chinese Food worth it? Yes and no. Yes because it was damn tasty. No because it made me feel all gross and made me feel bad about myself.
I hate these ups and downs I have. Yesterday I was in a great mood. I got home from work and decided I was going to cook. I made myself a bacon carbonara pasta and home made garlic bread. It was super tasty and I was impressed at how well it turned out. I don't normally cook. I was so jolly yesterday and now today I feel miserable. How the hell does it turn off and on that quickly? I hate it!
There have been so many times I've been convinced I have Bipolar Disorder. When I went for an assessment at the Psychiatry clinic to get into the group therapy program, the Psychiatrist quickly dismissed the idea of me being Bipolar. She asked me if I go days on end with no sleep. I said no and she quickly replied with, well then your not bipolar. I was angry. I felt like she quickly dismissed me and what I was feeling and had to say. I shut down and I immediately hated her. Just a minute before I really liked her and thought she was awesome. Looking back that was obviously my Borderline Personality Disorder kicking in.
I've been thinking about why I am so desperate to be labelled as Bipolar. I have enough labels already, don't I? I'm HIV positive. I'm a gay man. I have Major Depression. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Why then do I want to be labelled as Bipolar? Because I want to be fixed. I want someone to give me some pills and say, take these you will be fixed. You will be normal - another label. I know in reality that's not true. I know with Bipolar disorder, trying to find the right combination of medications is difficult and involves a lot of trial and error. And even though you are on medications it doesn't mean they will always work.
I guess I am just frustrated that my depression is kicking in today. I am frustrated that I went through four months of group therapy and I am not normal. I need to remind myself what one of the therapists said. He said "your not going to change overnight, it's going to take practice. You are trying to change decades worth of behaviours, you need to take baby steps." He's right I need to take one step at a time, and realize setbacks will happen.
I arrived at work and was not motivated to work at all. I spun around in my chair a few times, I stared at the wall, went to the washroom even though I really didn't need to go. My co-worker and I went on a Tim Hortons run for everyone, at least I wasn't the only one not in the mood to work. Finally noon arrived and I got to go home - I am still only working half days due to my medical leave.
I'm feeling shitty and hating life, so what do I do, I go to the food court at the mall. I go back to one of my bad behaviours and get greasy bad food. This time I select Chinese food, I haven't had Chinese food in a long time. I take it to go and head home. I go to my room, throw on a Criminal Minds dvd and eat my Chinese food in my bed. Was the Chinese Food worth it? Yes and no. Yes because it was damn tasty. No because it made me feel all gross and made me feel bad about myself.
I hate these ups and downs I have. Yesterday I was in a great mood. I got home from work and decided I was going to cook. I made myself a bacon carbonara pasta and home made garlic bread. It was super tasty and I was impressed at how well it turned out. I don't normally cook. I was so jolly yesterday and now today I feel miserable. How the hell does it turn off and on that quickly? I hate it!
There have been so many times I've been convinced I have Bipolar Disorder. When I went for an assessment at the Psychiatry clinic to get into the group therapy program, the Psychiatrist quickly dismissed the idea of me being Bipolar. She asked me if I go days on end with no sleep. I said no and she quickly replied with, well then your not bipolar. I was angry. I felt like she quickly dismissed me and what I was feeling and had to say. I shut down and I immediately hated her. Just a minute before I really liked her and thought she was awesome. Looking back that was obviously my Borderline Personality Disorder kicking in.
I've been thinking about why I am so desperate to be labelled as Bipolar. I have enough labels already, don't I? I'm HIV positive. I'm a gay man. I have Major Depression. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Why then do I want to be labelled as Bipolar? Because I want to be fixed. I want someone to give me some pills and say, take these you will be fixed. You will be normal - another label. I know in reality that's not true. I know with Bipolar disorder, trying to find the right combination of medications is difficult and involves a lot of trial and error. And even though you are on medications it doesn't mean they will always work.
I guess I am just frustrated that my depression is kicking in today. I am frustrated that I went through four months of group therapy and I am not normal. I need to remind myself what one of the therapists said. He said "your not going to change overnight, it's going to take practice. You are trying to change decades worth of behaviours, you need to take baby steps." He's right I need to take one step at a time, and realize setbacks will happen.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
I'm a flavour whore!
I feel tired and depressed today. It's all my fault really. I was hanging out with friends last night and we were drinking. Usually if I only have two to three drinks I am fine, but any more than that, I usually end up feeling depressed the next day. I'm not surprised, it's commonly known that alcohol acts a depressant. Probably not the best thing for me to be drinking since I have had bouts of major depression. I just can't help it though, I love the taste of red wine. Mmmmm so delicious. Probably didn't help that I had two beers and a tequila sunrise on top of that, oops. I am such a flavour whore - I love tasty stuff. The neurons in my brain get going, and they chant "give me more!" Give me more!"
If I stick to wine then I am usually fine the next day, I don't usually feel depressed. It's funny how alcohol can effect people differently. Because I was feeling down today, what did I do? I went and got fast food. At first I was ready to beat myself up for eating the fast food. The last two days I had been eating healthy and exercising. But I didn't beat myself up. I gave myself a pat on the back. Prior to this week I was eating fast food, everyday, sometimes twice a day. I just went the last two days without any fast food - that is awesome for me. So I had fast food today, oh well, life goes on. And to be honest, I enjoyed every freaking bite of it. It was damn delicious I tell you! I also know from experience, that if I try to go cold turkey cutting out the fast food, I fail miserably... every time! Like I said in my New Year's resolutions post, I will not overdo it, I will take it slowly. If I can go eating fast food every couple of days, for the next couple of weeks, that's a huge achievement for me. Then maybe I can go three days without eating it. One step at a time.
If I stick to wine then I am usually fine the next day, I don't usually feel depressed. It's funny how alcohol can effect people differently. Because I was feeling down today, what did I do? I went and got fast food. At first I was ready to beat myself up for eating the fast food. The last two days I had been eating healthy and exercising. But I didn't beat myself up. I gave myself a pat on the back. Prior to this week I was eating fast food, everyday, sometimes twice a day. I just went the last two days without any fast food - that is awesome for me. So I had fast food today, oh well, life goes on. And to be honest, I enjoyed every freaking bite of it. It was damn delicious I tell you! I also know from experience, that if I try to go cold turkey cutting out the fast food, I fail miserably... every time! Like I said in my New Year's resolutions post, I will not overdo it, I will take it slowly. If I can go eating fast food every couple of days, for the next couple of weeks, that's a huge achievement for me. Then maybe I can go three days without eating it. One step at a time.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
It's 2013...ACK!
I can't believe it is 2013. It's true, every year you get older, every year goes by faster and faster. It's like the Japanese Bullet Train, I swear last year went by at 300 km/hr. At the same time though, there were times it felt very very long, as long as the Nile river.
I've been through a lot in the past year. I went through a bout of major depression. It was so bad I was off of work for three months. I slept most of those three months. I ended up getting into a group therapy program to deal with my issues and depression. The therapy program was four months long. Just like this past year, the therapy went by fast and slow at the same time. It was one of the best things I have ever done, but also one of the hardest. There were a lot of tears and a lot of anger. A lot of uncomfortable, awkward moments. I told my Sister, Brother, Mom and Dad that I'm HIV positive. I went back to work, working part time. It's been an eventful, arduous year.
I have never been one to make New Year's Resolutions, but this year I decided I will. I was on UKPositiveLad's blog (http://www.ukpositivelad.com/blog/) and he inspired me to do some resolutions. I deserve to have a great year after everything I have been through. A great year isn't going to happen by sitting back. I need goals and need to proactively try and reach those goals. My New Year's Resolutions:
1) Be Physically Healthier:
This doesn't mean going on crash diets. This means eating healthier and finding activities I enjoy doing, instead of forcing myself to go to the gym. Currently I drink way to much Pop - I LOVE PEPSI!!!!! - and eat way too much fast food. Also these last few months, I haven't been active because I had undiagnosed Asthma. My Asthma was so bad it was making me sleep all the time and always short of breath. Now that I know I have Asthma and I am on an inhaler and I am slowly starting to feel better, it's time to get back in to being active. I also pledge to become active in a healthy way. What I mean by that is, not to overdo it. I am the type of person that goes big or goes home. I tend to overdo it. I go gung-ho and then get burnt out and go back to my old ways.
2) Be Mentally Healthier:
I've already started achieving this by going through that four month group therapy program last year. This year I would like to work on more positive thinking and expressing my feelings more. I am the type of person that holds everything in and then I end up taking it out on myself. If I am feeling angry or sad I am going to say so. If something is bothering me, I am going to let it out - in a healthy way.
3) Discover More About Myself:
I've spent so much of my life with no self worth, that I have never been comfortable with who am I. How can I be comfortable with who I am, when I don't know who I am in the first place? And how can I discover who I am, when I had no self worth? Thanks to the group therapy, I dealt with the issue of having no self worth. I'm not perfect, I still have my days where my lack of self-worth creeps in, but I also bounce back from it a lot quicker. I've always wanted to take singing and acting lessons, so I am going to look into that. I've also been teaching myself to draw and realized I'm not half bad, and would love to take some drawing lessons. (I will post a picture I drew of Daryl from The Walking Dead)
I am going to stop at three New Year's Resolutions, that way I can stay inline with not over doing it. I think three is a great start. I am excited for this year. I am a confident man and I am excited to find out more about myself!
I've been through a lot in the past year. I went through a bout of major depression. It was so bad I was off of work for three months. I slept most of those three months. I ended up getting into a group therapy program to deal with my issues and depression. The therapy program was four months long. Just like this past year, the therapy went by fast and slow at the same time. It was one of the best things I have ever done, but also one of the hardest. There were a lot of tears and a lot of anger. A lot of uncomfortable, awkward moments. I told my Sister, Brother, Mom and Dad that I'm HIV positive. I went back to work, working part time. It's been an eventful, arduous year.
I have never been one to make New Year's Resolutions, but this year I decided I will. I was on UKPositiveLad's blog (http://www.ukpositivelad.com/blog/) and he inspired me to do some resolutions. I deserve to have a great year after everything I have been through. A great year isn't going to happen by sitting back. I need goals and need to proactively try and reach those goals. My New Year's Resolutions:
1) Be Physically Healthier:
This doesn't mean going on crash diets. This means eating healthier and finding activities I enjoy doing, instead of forcing myself to go to the gym. Currently I drink way to much Pop - I LOVE PEPSI!!!!! - and eat way too much fast food. Also these last few months, I haven't been active because I had undiagnosed Asthma. My Asthma was so bad it was making me sleep all the time and always short of breath. Now that I know I have Asthma and I am on an inhaler and I am slowly starting to feel better, it's time to get back in to being active. I also pledge to become active in a healthy way. What I mean by that is, not to overdo it. I am the type of person that goes big or goes home. I tend to overdo it. I go gung-ho and then get burnt out and go back to my old ways.
2) Be Mentally Healthier:
I've already started achieving this by going through that four month group therapy program last year. This year I would like to work on more positive thinking and expressing my feelings more. I am the type of person that holds everything in and then I end up taking it out on myself. If I am feeling angry or sad I am going to say so. If something is bothering me, I am going to let it out - in a healthy way.
3) Discover More About Myself:
I've spent so much of my life with no self worth, that I have never been comfortable with who am I. How can I be comfortable with who I am, when I don't know who I am in the first place? And how can I discover who I am, when I had no self worth? Thanks to the group therapy, I dealt with the issue of having no self worth. I'm not perfect, I still have my days where my lack of self-worth creeps in, but I also bounce back from it a lot quicker. I've always wanted to take singing and acting lessons, so I am going to look into that. I've also been teaching myself to draw and realized I'm not half bad, and would love to take some drawing lessons. (I will post a picture I drew of Daryl from The Walking Dead)
I am going to stop at three New Year's Resolutions, that way I can stay inline with not over doing it. I think three is a great start. I am excited for this year. I am a confident man and I am excited to find out more about myself!
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Group Therapy Post #6 - Support Group
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.
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.
Thursday, December 20, 2012
Did I do it to myself?
I came across the quote "It's no fun to have HIV even though it's viewed as a chronic, controllable disease. It means being wedded to the health system." A man by the name of Phil Berger is credited as saying this.
I thought about this quote and how it applies to me. There have been many times I have felt guilty about contracting HIV, especially when I was first diagnosed. I've spent a lot of my life putting myself down. There has been many times when I take my medication that I think to myself, I am a burden on the health care system. Where I live, my medication is paid for by the government. Every cent. I know I am very fortunate that my medication is paid for, but sometimes it makes me feel guilty.
I have lost count how many times a friend, family member or doctor has said to me at least it's not a death sentence. I know when someone says this to me, they say it as a sign of support. But at the same time I feel like they are downplaying my illness. This says more about me and my insecurities and issues with the disease. To me it's a big deal. I have this disease that is trying to kill me. It's roaming around in my bodily fluids, attacking my body trying to destroy my immune system. I take these medications every day and everyday I have diarrhea. When I first started taking HIV medications, the first week was hell. I was extremely nauseated and vomitting. It was horrible. It was like the worst flu I have ever had.
A question needs to be answered. Did I do it to myself? Is it my fault I got HIV? Some people would say that's an easy question to answer. They would simply say yes. Yes it's your fault you got HIV. You knew that having unprotected sex could lead to you having HIV. You are the one who let the guy insert his penis in you without a condom. Do I deny that? No I don't. I did know that having unprotected sex could lead to contracting HIV. I did let the guy insert his penis in me without a condom. I didn't ask him what his status was. Other questions need to be asked. Why would I have unprotected sex, knowing I could contract HIV? Shouldn't it be human nature to protect oneself? If so, why would I risk getting HIV?
I didn't have any self worth. If I had no self worth why would I care about getting HIV? I didn't care about myself, didn't love myself. I have battled major depression throughout most of my life. As every year passed, each bout of depression got worse. As the darkness inside me grew, the more destructive things I did to try and forget about those feelings. I would eat a lot of fast food to try and make the bad feelings go away. I would eat McDonalds, KFC, Taco Bell; as long as it was greasy I would eat it. The cravings I would get for fast food while I was depressed were intense. I felt like an addict. I would take that first bite of food and instantly I would feel better. The salt, grease and sugar would give me a temporary high. A high that didn't last very long. I would go home and go to bed feeling disgusting. These feelings would follow me to the next day. I needed to get rid of these feelings so I would go and have sex.
When I first started being promiscuous in high school, I would mainly just have oral sex. Once in awhile I would have anal sex. If I did have anal sex it was always with a condom. As the years went on, once in awhile I would have sex without a condom, but I would tell the guy he couldn't ejaculate inside me. Then that didn't give me the high I need to mask my feelings, so I started letting the guys ejaculate inside me. Sometimes I would freak out that I might get HIV, but normally I wouldn't. I didn't give a fuck, I didn't like myself, a lot of times I hated myself. This was my punishment. I never thought to myself, I hope I get HIV, or I am going to have unprotected sex to get HIV. But deep down I thought to myself, if I do happen to get it, I would deserve it.
After awhile the high was weakening, so I was having sex with more and more guys, more often. I would meet guys from websites online and I would go to the bathhouse. I would try and have sex with as many guys as possible. I needed to keep the high going. When I was feeling disgusted with myself for having unprotected sex, I would go and eat fast food. When I would feel disgusted with myself for eating so much, I would go and have sex. It was a vicious cycle I was caught in, I couldn't get out. I couldn't tell anyone, because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed. HIV has a stigma attached to it, so do mental health issues. I didn't feel like I could tell anyone, I would be judged, I would be hated. No one would understand. So I kept it all in. Because I kept it all in I kept acting out in destructive ways.
Why didn't I have any self worth. For me to answer that question I need to look back at my childhood. Just a few months ago I wouldn't have been able to answer this question. After spending four months in an intensive group therapy program I can answer it. My parents fought, they fought a lot. I remember when I was seven, I was in my room sleeping. I woke up to my mom and dad yelling at each other. I could hear my dad threatening to kill himself. I heard my mom yell to my sister to hide the knives. Then I heard my mom yell, call the police. My sister did call the police, apparently the SWAT team showed up. I was upstairs all alone, frightened not understanding what was going on. I have another memory from when I was seven. It was summer time and the neighbourhood kids and I were having a water fight. One of the neighbours, a grown man joined in and was shooting us with a water gun from his back door. He kept running inside and closing the door so we couldn't get him wet. Well being seven I thought I was all smart, and decided to engage the lock on his door when he wasn't looking so when he closed the door behind him so we wouldn't get water in his house, he would be locked out so we could get him wet. I didn't think about how he would get back inside - I was seven. Well he tried to go back inside and the door was locked. He lost it. He came out of the back yard, started yelling and yelled who the fuck locked my door? The kids pointed at me. He came at me, grabbed me and started walking towards the managers place of the townhouse complex we lived in. I was scared and I was screaming and crying. I kept asking him to let me go, he was holding me so tight it hurt to breathe. He told me to shut the fuck up and slapped me across my face and side of the head. I told him if he put me down and let me walk I would stop crying. He put me down and I made a break for it. I didn't get very far, he grabbed me and hit me again. My friends ran to my house and got my dad. My dad came flying around the corner. My dad told me to go home. Surprisingly my dad somehow kept his temper in check and didn't kill him. My dad called the police and I had to tell them what happened. It turned out the guy was drunk. After that it was never spoken of. My mom and dad never asked me if I was okay, it just was never spoken of. My mom and dad split up when I was eight. My sister rebelled my getting into crime. My brother dealt with it by getting involved in sports. I was the forgotten one. My mom worked all the time, because she was depressed. She would go to work at five in the morning and not get home till eight or nine at night. I basically raised myself. It was very lonely. I never had anyone to talk to, I never had anyone teach me how to deal with my feelings properly. I was bullied a lot in school. The boys would take my clothes and put them in the shower so I would have to walk around in my gym clothes all day. The one time I tried to tell my mom what was happening the response I got was "other kids have it worse. It can't be that bad." So I held my feelings in, no one cared. My teachers knew this was happening, they didn't do anything. No one cared, why should I? When I was twelve I was raped in a public washroom by an older man. I kept that in, again why would I tell anyone? No one would probably believe me. There are many other traumatic events that have happened but the point is, my childhood had a huge impact on who I am today. So when someone says how could you be so stupid for contacting HIV, you should know better? My response is going to be "no I shouldn't have known better. How could I have known better. No one taught me any different. No one was there for me. Going through the group therapy program and looking back at my childhood I am not shocked that I contracted HIV. I am shocked I didn't contact any other diseases, I am shocked I didn't develop a drinking problem or a drug problem to cope.
My point is contracting HIV is not a black and white issue. There are a lot of grey areas. A lot of it comes down to circumstance and mental health. There will never be an easy answer, but if we never talk about it honestly and openly then we will never find an answer. This has been extremely difficult for me to write. Even though my blog is anonymous, I still find it embarrassing to admit some of these things. At the same time, it has been therapeutic and if it can just help a few people by sharing these intimate details then that makes me happy. It's funny, I didn't originally plan for this post to be so long and so detailed. I originally just meant to write about what the quote meant to me and how I feel like a burden on the healthcare system. It's interesting how a simple quote was able to bring up so much for me. Thanks for listening.
I thought about this quote and how it applies to me. There have been many times I have felt guilty about contracting HIV, especially when I was first diagnosed. I've spent a lot of my life putting myself down. There has been many times when I take my medication that I think to myself, I am a burden on the health care system. Where I live, my medication is paid for by the government. Every cent. I know I am very fortunate that my medication is paid for, but sometimes it makes me feel guilty.
I have lost count how many times a friend, family member or doctor has said to me at least it's not a death sentence. I know when someone says this to me, they say it as a sign of support. But at the same time I feel like they are downplaying my illness. This says more about me and my insecurities and issues with the disease. To me it's a big deal. I have this disease that is trying to kill me. It's roaming around in my bodily fluids, attacking my body trying to destroy my immune system. I take these medications every day and everyday I have diarrhea. When I first started taking HIV medications, the first week was hell. I was extremely nauseated and vomitting. It was horrible. It was like the worst flu I have ever had.
A question needs to be answered. Did I do it to myself? Is it my fault I got HIV? Some people would say that's an easy question to answer. They would simply say yes. Yes it's your fault you got HIV. You knew that having unprotected sex could lead to you having HIV. You are the one who let the guy insert his penis in you without a condom. Do I deny that? No I don't. I did know that having unprotected sex could lead to contracting HIV. I did let the guy insert his penis in me without a condom. I didn't ask him what his status was. Other questions need to be asked. Why would I have unprotected sex, knowing I could contract HIV? Shouldn't it be human nature to protect oneself? If so, why would I risk getting HIV?
I didn't have any self worth. If I had no self worth why would I care about getting HIV? I didn't care about myself, didn't love myself. I have battled major depression throughout most of my life. As every year passed, each bout of depression got worse. As the darkness inside me grew, the more destructive things I did to try and forget about those feelings. I would eat a lot of fast food to try and make the bad feelings go away. I would eat McDonalds, KFC, Taco Bell; as long as it was greasy I would eat it. The cravings I would get for fast food while I was depressed were intense. I felt like an addict. I would take that first bite of food and instantly I would feel better. The salt, grease and sugar would give me a temporary high. A high that didn't last very long. I would go home and go to bed feeling disgusting. These feelings would follow me to the next day. I needed to get rid of these feelings so I would go and have sex.
When I first started being promiscuous in high school, I would mainly just have oral sex. Once in awhile I would have anal sex. If I did have anal sex it was always with a condom. As the years went on, once in awhile I would have sex without a condom, but I would tell the guy he couldn't ejaculate inside me. Then that didn't give me the high I need to mask my feelings, so I started letting the guys ejaculate inside me. Sometimes I would freak out that I might get HIV, but normally I wouldn't. I didn't give a fuck, I didn't like myself, a lot of times I hated myself. This was my punishment. I never thought to myself, I hope I get HIV, or I am going to have unprotected sex to get HIV. But deep down I thought to myself, if I do happen to get it, I would deserve it.
After awhile the high was weakening, so I was having sex with more and more guys, more often. I would meet guys from websites online and I would go to the bathhouse. I would try and have sex with as many guys as possible. I needed to keep the high going. When I was feeling disgusted with myself for having unprotected sex, I would go and eat fast food. When I would feel disgusted with myself for eating so much, I would go and have sex. It was a vicious cycle I was caught in, I couldn't get out. I couldn't tell anyone, because I was too embarrassed, too ashamed. HIV has a stigma attached to it, so do mental health issues. I didn't feel like I could tell anyone, I would be judged, I would be hated. No one would understand. So I kept it all in. Because I kept it all in I kept acting out in destructive ways.
Why didn't I have any self worth. For me to answer that question I need to look back at my childhood. Just a few months ago I wouldn't have been able to answer this question. After spending four months in an intensive group therapy program I can answer it. My parents fought, they fought a lot. I remember when I was seven, I was in my room sleeping. I woke up to my mom and dad yelling at each other. I could hear my dad threatening to kill himself. I heard my mom yell to my sister to hide the knives. Then I heard my mom yell, call the police. My sister did call the police, apparently the SWAT team showed up. I was upstairs all alone, frightened not understanding what was going on. I have another memory from when I was seven. It was summer time and the neighbourhood kids and I were having a water fight. One of the neighbours, a grown man joined in and was shooting us with a water gun from his back door. He kept running inside and closing the door so we couldn't get him wet. Well being seven I thought I was all smart, and decided to engage the lock on his door when he wasn't looking so when he closed the door behind him so we wouldn't get water in his house, he would be locked out so we could get him wet. I didn't think about how he would get back inside - I was seven. Well he tried to go back inside and the door was locked. He lost it. He came out of the back yard, started yelling and yelled who the fuck locked my door? The kids pointed at me. He came at me, grabbed me and started walking towards the managers place of the townhouse complex we lived in. I was scared and I was screaming and crying. I kept asking him to let me go, he was holding me so tight it hurt to breathe. He told me to shut the fuck up and slapped me across my face and side of the head. I told him if he put me down and let me walk I would stop crying. He put me down and I made a break for it. I didn't get very far, he grabbed me and hit me again. My friends ran to my house and got my dad. My dad came flying around the corner. My dad told me to go home. Surprisingly my dad somehow kept his temper in check and didn't kill him. My dad called the police and I had to tell them what happened. It turned out the guy was drunk. After that it was never spoken of. My mom and dad never asked me if I was okay, it just was never spoken of. My mom and dad split up when I was eight. My sister rebelled my getting into crime. My brother dealt with it by getting involved in sports. I was the forgotten one. My mom worked all the time, because she was depressed. She would go to work at five in the morning and not get home till eight or nine at night. I basically raised myself. It was very lonely. I never had anyone to talk to, I never had anyone teach me how to deal with my feelings properly. I was bullied a lot in school. The boys would take my clothes and put them in the shower so I would have to walk around in my gym clothes all day. The one time I tried to tell my mom what was happening the response I got was "other kids have it worse. It can't be that bad." So I held my feelings in, no one cared. My teachers knew this was happening, they didn't do anything. No one cared, why should I? When I was twelve I was raped in a public washroom by an older man. I kept that in, again why would I tell anyone? No one would probably believe me. There are many other traumatic events that have happened but the point is, my childhood had a huge impact on who I am today. So when someone says how could you be so stupid for contacting HIV, you should know better? My response is going to be "no I shouldn't have known better. How could I have known better. No one taught me any different. No one was there for me. Going through the group therapy program and looking back at my childhood I am not shocked that I contracted HIV. I am shocked I didn't contact any other diseases, I am shocked I didn't develop a drinking problem or a drug problem to cope.
My point is contracting HIV is not a black and white issue. There are a lot of grey areas. A lot of it comes down to circumstance and mental health. There will never be an easy answer, but if we never talk about it honestly and openly then we will never find an answer. This has been extremely difficult for me to write. Even though my blog is anonymous, I still find it embarrassing to admit some of these things. At the same time, it has been therapeutic and if it can just help a few people by sharing these intimate details then that makes me happy. It's funny, I didn't originally plan for this post to be so long and so detailed. I originally just meant to write about what the quote meant to me and how I feel like a burden on the healthcare system. It's interesting how a simple quote was able to bring up so much for me. Thanks for listening.
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