Now that the big stuff is done...

Hey there!

Thanks for reading up to this point.  I wanted to get the big sword-of-Damocles posts out of the way so I can focus on the more mundane stuff.  I hope that what you've read so far has been helpful and supportive!

Don't worry, I'm still going to tackle the big issues when they come up.  But I also want to reinforce the purpose of this blog - to show people how to be happy and have a great outlook on life. 

In other news, the amazing artist of Warped Whimsy has finished my logo!  I love it, I think it's simple and elegant.  Tell me what you think of it!

Remember to subscribe if you want to read the blog when it goes live.  Follow me on Google+ if you like.  Even find me on Facebook, I'm cool with that.

Much love,
Teddy T.

Stigma.

This post is for all you HIV negative people out there.  Pozzers, feel free to look away.  Or don't, up to you.  But this post is the one that we have all wanted to say, the one we have all screamed at our phones at 2am when you get that "thanks but I only play with neg" message on your singles app.

Stigma.  Discrimination.  Close-mindedness.  Ignorance.  It's all the same thing.  It's a lack of knowledge, a lack of wanting to know the truth.  It sucks a giant donkey.  And it's everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  I've touched on a few of the things that we (poz people) notice.  But this post is all about putting it all out there.

Stigma is a term used to explain the behavior of people - whether conscious or unconscious - when faced with HIV.  It can be small things like delaying a text message.  It can be big things like overreacting when finding out.  It is a hundred things.  A thousand.  It's unintentionally (and sometimes intentionally) cruel.  And all it takes is a bit of knowledge to stop doing it.  And yes, this is the essence of this post.  Stop.  Doing.  It.

So, you're neg.  You've never really had to face the idea of HIV.  It's never been much of an issue for you.  You're in a bar, and chatting to a total hottie.  I mean a 12 on the scale of hot.  You're completely digging this person, they're just delicious.  And then they tell you they are HIV positive.  What happens now?  I'd love to give you a few ideas, but I actually want you to stop reading, and ask yourself out loud.  What would you think or say or do?

HIV stigma is really not as blatant as you might think.  I bet a hundred things went through your mind.  Things like "I don't want HIV."  "I have no idea if this guy is a risk."  Or the big one, "Damn, that's a pity."  You may not have said those things.  But guess what?  Your face did.  And the guy you have been having a great chat to saw it.  Your smile drooped a little.  Your eyes looked away.  And you have just revealed all that to someone who up until a moment ago thought he might have had a shot.

Campaigns like ENUF are fantastic at overcoming the obvious stigma about HIV.  Dispelling the myths.  Teaching people that undetectable means healthy.  But it's the little things, the facial expressions.  The silence.  The things that to a neg person might be nothing at all, or at least nothing conscious.  But to a poz person it says: "I don't understand, and that worries me."

Education is probably the biggest thing you can do to overcome your personal preconceptions about HIV.  Knowing about the virus, about how hard it really is to transmit and contract, knowing about ARV's and the rate of infection from undetectable sources.  Knowledge is key.  I will be posting a page to some fantastic links alongside this post, so that you can do just that.  Get educated.

Control your thinking.  Remember, even if you don't realise it, your surface thoughts become body language as or shortly after you think them.  Why do you think there are so many "mind readers" peddling their talents across the world?  Body language experts.  Know what you are thinking.  Keep an open mind.  Heck if it helps, go in to every conversation thinking they are probably poz.  Assume positive until proven otherwise.

This is a great general rule of thumb, especially for casual online encounters.  Assume poz, until proven otherwise.  The internet lies.  It does.  Guys are 6'4", muscled and well endowed online.  Guys are 4'3", wider than they are tall, and you never even get to find out what they're packing in real life.  Not that there's anything wrong with either of those descriptions - it just sucks when you get one when promised the other.  It's the same with HIV status.  Guys lie.

Know how to "play safe".  Another golden rule of life, not just in relation to poz stigma.  Know how the virus is transmitted most often, and don't do those risky behaviors.  If you do, then know that you are playing roulette.  HIV sucks, but so does herpes, chlamydia and syphilis.  Play safe to avoid all of those.

Be clear in your view of HIV.  Be crystal clear.  Know what it is you think of the virus, once you know the facts.  You are still going to repeat the stigma cycle if you are unsure.  And heck, maybe once you know all the facts that matter, you're still going to dislike the virus, and poz people.  And that's actually OK.  It sucks for us, but it's your right to choose how to think and feel. It's up to you to figure out how you feel about it.  But know your mind, know your feelings on the topic.  And don't facade - tell people how you feel.  Blunt honesty is preferable to awkward moments and unconscious stigma.

People living with HIV are going through shit.  Maybe not in the moment you meet them, but in general.  Think of all the hard times you've faced in your life.  Grief.  Loss.  Pain.  And that's just the general stuff.  Now add the thought of "what if I had a virus that everyone is afraid of?" into the mix.  Now you're beginning to see why stigma exists, and why poz people are so painfully aware of it.

In short, don't be a jerk.  Or do, but be a jerk with knowledge and understanding.  Most of all, be empathetic.  The person sitting across from you is a human being, and could well be the love of your life.  HIV is just a thing they are dealing with.

A note to my family.

First and foremost, your love and support has been immense and so gratefully accepted.  Family is the backbone of a person, and you guys have stepped up amazingly.

However, it seems there was some upset over a line in my disclosure post, that has some of you feeling like I may have been harsh.  So, I want to address that.  This is the line;

For me, the idea that my conservative family will find out and make a massive drama out of it, is my greatest fear.  But that's a fear based on their ignorance, rather than my own.  So rather than educate them, I chose not to tell them.

When writing a blog, it's critical to be objective and succinct.  Who knows how many people are going to read this, with their own experiences weighing in on the words,  giving their own perspective on what is written.  Sometimes this method of writing can seem cruel or callous, when it's not intended as such.  So, to my family - here is that line again, with edits to show my emotions toward you all when I wrote it.

For me, the idea that my conservative family will find out and make a massive drama out of it, is terrifying.  It's a fear created by my own imagination, and it's untrue.  It's a fear based on my perception that my family doesn't know enough about HIV or how to live with it.  In my mind, this unconscious ignorance (read; lack of knowledge) will bring me pain.  So instead of taking the time to educate them, I chose to simply stay silent.

I hope this serves as both apology and explanation for you all.

I love you, family.

Disclosure (Part 2)

Sadness is a constant monkey on the back of anyone trying to process how and when to disclose.  Knowing that at some point in the future you have to pluck up the courage to just say it can leave you drained and on the verge of tears.  And there's nothing wrong with tears.  Shed a few.  Let it out.  But if you're feeling sad, then you have already made up your mind to disclose.

Sadness is an emotion of choice.  You have chosen a path, now you're just pre-empathising with what is coming next.  Don't let it control you, or you could well go back on your decision and slip back in to regret mode.  Push through the sadness and do what you decided.  Even if that decision is to not tell.  Get on with your day.  Smile at someone.  Even a fake smile turns real when that someone smiles back.  Sadness fades.  It's true, it does.  The key here is not to sit in a puddle of it.  Get up, get moving, get active. 

What about when you disclose, and it feels like the wrong decision?  That can lead to all kinds of emotional mess.  Regret we have already covered, but what about self-loathing?  That feeling that you have done something really, REALLY stupid and now there's no taking it back.  Or perhaps it's the other way around.  You chose to say nothing, and now you hate yourself for chickening out.

This is by far the hardest mindset to deal with, and possibly the most dangerous.  It can lead to eating binges, lethargy, self-destructive behavior.  It's critical that you deal with this immediately.  Right now.  Stand up, and get ready to deal with it.  Go and speak to your treating physician, and get a referral to speak to someone.  I can't stress this enough - if you are hating yourself, get professional help.  Close this blog, call your treating physician.  Yes there are ways of dealing with it on your own, or with friends.  But they take time, and time isn't on your side when you're in the mindset to self-sabotage.  And this blog is all about being happy and healthy, so I say again - if you are self loathing, get professional help.

Disclosure can be a horrific process to go through.  It is traumatic and it leaves you weak and exposed.  But it is also cathartic and can leave you feeling empowered and invincible.  It just takes you to see beyond the gloom and touch the silver lining.

Disclosing in relationships can be much harder.  Imagine all that we have talked about so far, all those emotions.  Then crank them up to eleven when you start thinking about telling your partner/spouse/long list of casuals.  How do you even broach the subject?  Notice I am not saying anything about avoiding the subject.  Disclosing to sexual partners is absolutely REQUIRED.  No ifs buts or maybes.  If you have had sex with them during your exposure window, you tell them.  If you plan on having sex, you tell them.  Relationships don't work on lies.  If you want happiness with someone, truth is the ONLY option.

 This is another topic I have discussed at length, both with poz and neg people.  The reactions I get are often amazing, often disheartening.  People who choose to not disclose.  People who choose to have non-penetrative sex.  People who pretty much wear a badge on their chest on date 1.  Everyone is different, and everyone needs their own level of comfort in this.  But neg guys all say the exact same thing.  Here it is - the big secret.  What neg partners think.

"It's better to be with someone honest.  It's better to be with someone who is medicated and in control, than to be with someone who has no idea if they even have it.  I'd prefer to sleep with a medicated poz guy than an idiot who doesn't even get tested."

Be aware, this is just the mindset of the neg people who are OK with poz.  I don't get much opportunity to speak with people who are fearful, because I am never approached by them.  But neg people who understand the virus pretty much all feel this way.

So, again we return to disclosing.  At this point, I'm sure you can all see where I'm going with this.  Disclose immediately.  It's better in the long run.  Find out what side of the fence your potential partner sits on.  If they are in the above camp (ok with it) then great!  If not, then before you get weepy, ask yourself:  Do you really want to be with someone who lives in fear?  Sometimes all it takes is disclosure to break the fear bubble of the other person.  Just a bit of time, and they will come back to you and say:  "I wasn't OK with it.  But now I am." 

Back to the topic of disclosing to past partners.  This - I have to stress - has ZERO to do with your own emotional state.  You must MUST take an empathetic approach here.  This is about their health.  Right now, they have no idea that they have been exposed to the virus.  This is down to you.  Think about their health, and the health of the people they are sleeping with.  Undiagnosed HIV is the leading cause of transmission globally - and it's up to US to stamp that out.  By talking.  By letting exes know that they have been exposed.

You are going to get bad reactions.  You are.  It's just life.  Steel yourself for it, and remind yourself that this is for their benefit.  It has nothing to do with you.  This is a storm that every single sexually active positive person has to weather.  If you really don't think you can do it yourself, then give the list of numbers to your doctor.  He will pass it on to the Heath Department, and they will call for you.  This is how serious it is that anyone exposed be told - the governments of most major countries have a system in place to track down and tell anyone who you have been in contact with.  So, do it yourself if you think you can weather the storm.  Or let others do it for you.  But GET IT DONE.

Disclosure is ongoing, as I said at the start of the last blog.  It never stops.  But neither does coming out.  Take a similar approach, tell the world, tell three people, tell yourself that nobody has to know.  It's a personal journey.  But above all, walk the path that leads to happiness. 

Traffic notice.

I just want people to know, that this blog is for YOU.  It's not mine.  It's my words (for now) but it's for everyone.

It's time these conversations came out from behind closed doors.  It's time that this was an open, frank and honest discussion.  It's time that everyone knew what was happening in the mind of a poz person.

Tolerance, love and acceptance can't happen without understanding.

Please, comment.  Share.  Spread this.  Send me a request to guest blog.  Email me anonymously and ask me to put it up.

This is YOUR space.  And by you, I mean everyone who comes here.

Disclosure (Part 1)

Disclosure is such a massive hurdle.  It's so hard to know where to start, who to tell, what to say.  It's terrifying.  It's like coming out all over again.  Naturally, it can lead to feelings of sadness, regret, fear and self-loathing.  These feelings are completely natural, and I will talk through each.  There is a lot to cover, so I will be doing this over 2 posts.

The process of disclosure is a tricky maze to navigate.  Do you just blow it all at once, like ripping off a band-aid?  Do you drip-feed to the people closest to you until you're comfortable with the level of disclosure?  For me, I have disclosed on singles sites, here (obviously) and in person with those close to me.  I have not disclosed on Facebook, and I have been selective about the family who know.  But, the act of disclosure is constant - we are always meeting new people, and the battle to tell or not to tell is ongoing.

The act of disclosing is an act of trauma.  You are putting the truth out there, for good or for ill.  It's the ultimate test of character both for yourself and for the person you are telling.  Regret is the biggest emotional reaction to disclosing, and it's the one that needs to be talked about the most.  Regret in telling someone.  Regret in not telling them sooner.  Regret in chickening out and delaying the conversation.  Regret in losing that someone when they react poorly.

But regret is an emotion of failure.  It's telling yourself you did it wrong.  And there is nothing wrong in speaking the truth.  For good or ill, the truth is the ultimate panacea.  It generates it's own truth in response, it creates a line which lies can't cross.  Disclosing, even if it means losing someone, is ultimately the only way to know for sure.

So, how do you disclose without hitting the regret wall?  Well, you could try hypothetical conversations.  "What would happen if one of us was poz?"  "I met a poz guy the other day.  How does that make you feel?"  Test the waters.  Adjust the conversation until you get the truth of what they think.  Maybe try a link to an article on HIV.  Bring it up in conversation - "Hey, did you hear that according to science, undetectable guys are pretty much non contagious?"  Raise the topic and see what reaction you get.  If it's one you don't like, perhaps reconsider disclosing until you feel it's safe.  Or not at all.  Disclosure isn't essential after all.  Unless you're in a relationship, but we will get to that in part 2.

Fear is another massive roadblock to deciding when and how to disclose.  Fear of rejection, fear of a bad reaction, even fear of your own ideas about the virus. Fear is completely natural and should never be looked at as a demon on your back.  What fear needs, is understanding.  Know what you fear.  Give yourself time to isolate precisely what it is that makes you so afraid.  For me, the idea that my conservative family will find out and make a massive drama out of it, is my greatest fear.  But that's a fear based on their ignorance, rather than my own.  So rather than educate them, I chose not to tell them. 

I will be rectifying that with this blog post.  When this Disclosure post goes live, it will also go live on Facebook.  It's time to face my fear, and finally tell the truth.

Once you know what you fear, think about what you can do to overcome it.  Is your fear that your friends will reject you?  Maybe start posting on your Facebook some link to HIV education.  Maybe talking to someone outside of your social circle, asking them what they fear.  Most certainly communicate with other poz people.  Find out what they feared, and how they overcame it.  Everyone's fears are different, because everyone is different.  But they have common ground. 

I have many conversations with poz people (mainly guys) about this topic.  And every single one of them tells me one things which resonates.  It's a common theme among all poz people.  Disclosure sucks.  It sucks hard.  But it doesn't have to.  Take your time.  Tell who you think you need to tell.  Don't tell anyone.  It's completely up to you.  For me, I like the strength that disclosure gives me.  It puts me in the position of saying "Yes, I have a virus.  It's nothing to be ashamed of.  It's not killing me.  It's mine, and I choose to tell you."

In case you were wondering, I used the band-aid method, told everyone over the course of about three days.  But that's me, I'm not one to dwell on stuff.  It interrupts my sunbaking.

Isolation.

Isolation is a crushing feeling of loneliness.  It could be physical isolation - being completely alone.  It could be social - having nobody to talk to.  It could be emotional - feeling unloved.  And you know what?  Poz guys in the gay world are the experts.

HIV stigma is subtle.  It's very rare that you meet someone who openly says "the virus sickens me."  Instead, it's a tapering off of conversation.  It's awkward pauses.  It's someone shifting their chair back a little, away from you.  And isolation is stigma's weapon of choice.

So many guys out there tell me they experience it.  They tell me that they feel like there's nobody out there who cares to listen, who wants to understand.  They tell me that the feeling of loneliness is so crushing sometimes, that they just want to scream.  And I get that.  I have experienced it myself.

But isolation can't exist in the same space as happiness.  They are mutually exclusive.  Isolation brings sadness.  Happiness brings inquisitiveness from others.  "Huh?  What's he so cheery about?"  Learning to be happy in the face of isolation is a tricky bitch to master.  But it can be done.

First thing's first - work out where the feelings are coming from.  Do you live too far away from your friends and support network?  Do you have limited access to social media?  Do you struggle to transport yourself around?  That's physical isolation.  It sucks, but it's the easiest one to overcome.  Google around, there's gay support groups scattered all over the place.  Find a Facebook group.   But the big one?  Tell your friends and support network that you feel isolated.  Tell them.  These feelings can't be overcome with silence.  Your friends are going to get it, and the true friends are the ones who will say "Ok, I'm coming over for a week."

Perhaps your isolation is more mental than physical.  You could walk in to a crowded room and feel like the only person there.  You could scan a crowd and see nothing but hostile closed faces looking back.  Your phone hasn't rung or bleeped or bipped in weeks.  This is social isolation.  It's the cruelest.  This is the one I used to suffer from.  The solution to this one is to talk.  Talk to anyone.  Talk to everyone.  The best place to start is with your treating physician.  Remember them?  The doctor you chose to case manage your HIV?  Talk to them.  They will have the names and numbers of counselors, peer support networks, social groups.  If they don't have those names and numbers immediately, they will get them for you.  Because that's their job - to treat you.  To keep you healthy.  And a healthy mindset is just as important as a healthy body.

Talking is not just a weapon against isolation, it's a tool to help you move toward happiness.  The more you talk, the more you process information.  The more blunt and honest you are about your feelings, the more often those little nuggets of insight will fall out of your mouth and surprise you.  Talking about a thing makes the thing less oppressive and scary.  So talk.  A lot.

But what about the last kind?  Emotional isolation.  Partners, love interests, casual roots.  They have totally dropped off the radar.  Sure, you still get woof'd on Scruff, but once the conversation gets to the hard wire, they drop that clever little insult - "Are you clean?"  Clean.  Like HIV is something filthy to be wiped up with a Chux cloth and washed down the sink.  And your heart sinks, knowing that once again you will be missing out on snuggles tonight.

This one takes guts to overcome.  It's something that you should only do if you know, in yourself, it's the right move.  If you're unsure, or hesitant, or for whatever reason you feel like it would be a bad idea, then don't do it!  But, here goes.  Disclose your status.

Put it up on your profile.  Put the [+] symbol next to your name.  It's empowering and it's liberating.  It cuts the crap.  It's like an instant bullshit filter - the guys who would ask that horrendously insulting question will never even bother messaging you.  Better yet, you will be surprised at how many woofs you suddenly get, how many other poz guys exist out there, who have not disclosed, and who have been suffering the same emotional isolation and rejection.

You aren't alone.  We all have shit we are dealing with.  Isolation can be overcome, all you have to do is take one step forward and say "I want to not feel like this anymore."  The happiness you feel from overcoming the isolation demon makes up for the discomfort of putting yourself out there.

Backstory

People may think Seroconversion is where it all begins.  But it's not.  Behavior is where it begins.

In 2011, I was behaving poorly.  I was living at home with my father, as I had a string of failed housemate attempts.  I was working as a temp in administration, so had no job security or guarantee of paycheck. I was a hot hot mess.  And so, I behaved poorly.

It started with random sex via singles apps, like Scruff and Grindr.  They were easy to access, provided almost unlimited entertainment, and had a quick turnaround.  But that wasn't enough, I wanted to really get out there.  I began using beats.  For the uninitated, a beat is any public space where, at certain times, guys gather to have sex.  They are a sure-fire way to get yourself in to trouble, and trouble was what I wanted.

Now, don't get me wrong, I was never a "bug chaser".  I knew about HIV.  Heck, everyone knows about it.  But I had no real understanding of it.  It was in the back of my mind, but never once did I stop and think "I'm going to catch that if I keep going".  So yeah, I wanted trouble, but I had no idea that I did.

I'm fairly certain I know which encounter it was that did the deed.  I won't go into detail on it, but let's just say that I was feeling REALLY self-destructive that day.  I had five guys.  Five.  In an hour.  And I'm fairly sure one of them gave me HIV.

I just want to point out here, that I have no malice or ill-will toward that person.  I was the person who contracted the virus, through my own poor judgement and bad behavior.  I knew that then, I know that now, and that's what I will take to my grave.  No blame, but for myself.

Snap forward three months, and I'm sick.  I mean SICK.  I'm so sick I swear I can taste purple.  My muscles ache, I can't even breathe without crying.  And my tears ache.  And my mouth is copper, my ears are super sensitive to sound, and all I can do is moan and whimper and hope that it either ends or I lapse in to a coma.  But I manage to get myself off to a doctor.

I go to a rural medical centre, because it's the nearest to my house and the closest one I can think of that bulk bills.  I'm nervous, and I don't really want to tell them all the sordid details of my sex life.  So, I request a blood test and a general checkup.  Please take note, this was another POOR decision.  Always always ALWAYS tell your GP your sexual history.

My blood test results come back a week later, and I get a call from the pathology clinic.  There's something wrong, they can clearly see that, my immune system is going bugshit crazy.  But they can't find what's causing it.  They suspect viral meningitis, I'm told to go and collect an antiviral script from the GP, and see if I feel better.

I collect my script, take every pill they have given me over the next week, and I feel great again.  Crisis averted.  Meningitis defeated.  But this illness has taken me more than a month to get over, and my temp role is long gone.  I'm lost, and I have no new work on the horizon.  So, I decide to up and leave.  I pack my things into my car, and I drive off on an 18 month trip around Australia.  I could tell you the stories of the amazing people I met on my journey, the sex I had, the places I saw.  But not today.  Instead I will skip ahead.

We fast forward now to when I returned to Melbourne. I'm calmer, beardier (oh so beardy) and much more relaxed than when I left.  I'm sun-kissed and feeling fine.  I do a bit of couch surfing, and find myself a call centre job in the city.  It's a good job, outbound (which I hate) but the pay makes up for it.  Three hours in to my shift however, and I almost fall asleep at the desk.  It's totally out of character, and I have no idea why I'm so tired.

I give the job a week, but every day the same thing.  Three hours of feeling great, then WHAM, and I'm almost falling over.  At this point I'm completely baffled, but I decide to abandon the job.  At this point I meet my soon-to-be housemate (I will call him V), who has since become one of my dearest friends of all time.  More about him in another blog.

So, I move in with V, and I'm still job searching, thinking that maybe it was just adjusting to city life again after being on the road for so long.  But the fatigue persists now, even outside of the workplace.  I'm up, I'm active for a few hours, and I crash.  V suggests a doctor's visit, so I book one in.

The day before the visit, I get a call from a friend up north.  I say friend, but we were more than that while I was on holiday.  He tells me he's just had some devastating news.  He's positive.  And he tells me something even worse - his exposure timeframe matches when we were lovers.

At this point, most people would crash out and lose their shit.   In hindsight, I'm shocked to this day that I didn't.  Instead, I saw completely clear all at once.  Dagger-point clarity.  And I knew.  I knew what was wrong.  I told my friend that I was getting tested the next day, and asked if he would be ok with me calling him after it.  He insisted that I did.

It was 11am on Wednesday June 19, 2013. I remember that.  I will probably never forget that date.  I walked in to the doctor's office and sat down.  My doctor (now my treating physician) asked me why I was there.  And my reply shocked him.  I said; "I have HIV.  I need the rapid test."  He asked me what made me so sure, and I told him everything.  The sickness in 2011.  The fatigue.  The general feeling of bleh.

My doctor by this stage had pricked the finger and smeared the stick, and we were waiting.  And he said; "I'm going to say that you and I both know what this test will show.  What are you going to do?"  "Accept it."  Was my reply.  After the appointment, I called my friend and told him.  I told him how sorry I was.  I told him that I had dome this to him.  And he said something that has resonated with me since.  He said:  "Well, we're blood brothers now.  I forgive you."

That was the catalyst that set this in motion.  It was the spark that flamed my passion to turn the lives of those living with HIV, and those fearful of it around.  I live with this virus every day, and I am happy, healthy and upbeat about life.  And I want to share that with everyone I possibly can, for as long as I possibly can.

This is my blog.  How to live positive, while being Positive.