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.
Monday, 18 August 2014
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.
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.
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