your gift is my song

i have given my notice at my job and am in a contemplative state. i have been working as a client advocate for persons living with hiv for two years now. it has been an eye-opening experience to say the least. more importantly is the heart opening that has been taking place in me the last two years as well. i have become aware of so many issues and details and circumstances in peoples lives that i previously was completely blind to. this is my song. and my song is knowing you.

i have met many hiv plus homeless persons who have no real place to lay their head. many of them have mental health issues and it affects how they take care of themselves and how they approach wellness and health care in general. i mean when you wander a lot looking for a place to sit down, it hardly seems logical that taking meds on a timely basis would have any priority whatsoever.

i have become aware of people in this capacity not having the self efficacy to keep themselves physically safe. so, in that sense, how could risky behaviors have any real priority? if you can't negotiate whether you have sex or not, how do you possibly negotiate whether it is going to be "safe"?

i now understand more clearly that if i cannot tell you that i have sex with a man, how can i possibly tell you that i am positive? and i would rather get sick than go to a doctor, because my wife will find out that i have hiv.

it seems completely understandable to think that someone has been poz for 20 years and is just tired of feeling disconnected. tired of putting on the glove when it's time to make love. that it's counter intuitive that i need to place a barrier between us before we become closer.

i know much better that after 2 years of diarrhea, it seems logical for a person to really tire of the medication routine. it's so draining, how can a person keep it up. and who wants to hear about it anyway. then you pick up a copy of poz magazine and everybody looks healthy, happy, and full of smiles. and you think, i must not be good enough.

and then there are those who have lost so many of their friends and are just lonely. they never expected to live this long, weren't at all prepared. and have a difficult time discerning a reason to keep it up. where is the fun when there are no shared memories? not one inside joke? no one to remind you of anything that happened that one time?

and the folks who have been numbing out for so long, that they don't even remember what life is like without pharmacology. they have been zombied by drugs and alcohol and are whispers of the people they once were. walking wounded. bela lugosis. caspers.

please don't misunderstand my spewing here. this is not a judgement. this is not a critique. this is my experience. and i am not in regret. i have opened my heart. i have opened my eyes to the realities of living with a "condition". of surviving, but not smoothly. it's not all downhill from here. there are crags, and crevices, and hidden bumps and holes.

this is my community. this is the truth about hiv. this is not what the press releases want you to know. but this might be the prevention information that works. i don't know. not everyone with hiv has a broken life. not by a long shot. however, it is not at all like being nominated for class president, either. it is an earthquake. it shakes us to the very foundation. and it takes time to find out how high it is on the richter scale.

i will miss this work and this position. i leave this job a much stronger and healther hiv plus person than i was prior. i no longer have time for shame. i have found bliss in this diagnosis. i carry it with me always. i am blessed to have been able to help anyone. i couldn't help myself leave a bathhouse room a few years ago. this type of job is a recommended service position for anyone who thinks they are a pariah.

and now.....i hope you don't mind.