Love is greater than any stigma
Because there is still such negativity surrounding those who are living with the HIV/AIDS virus this loving couple did not want to use their names. Yes LOVE is greater than the stigma however, we have to make sure. With assistance in writing this story for World AIDS Day, the world can read another true love story. We love her story. She was willing to print her name but he was not ready. The both agreed to the publication. With a few edits it is all her thoughts.
I have contemplated over and over whether I should tell my love story for World AIDS Day. It is a beautiful love story, and it is my favorite because it’s his and mine. I hesitate because there remains a stigma, even while my love for this man is greater than any stigma there is.
I woke up to a buzzing cell phone in the wee hours of the morning. I squinted to make out the time on the clock and it read 3:12 am. My hands searched for the phone in the dark, and I finally was able to grasp it and pull it up to my face. I smiled to know it was my new beau texting me, yet I felt concerned at the hour.
When I opened the text, I was met simply with an image of a red T-shirt that read “No shame about being HIV positive”. His accompanying words were “I am HIV+ and undetectable and I have no shame.”
I was stunned silent. I blinked repeated and reread. I rose from the bed, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and returned to the mobile phone to read the message again. “No shame about being HIV positive. I am HIV+ and undetectable and I have no shame.”
My entire face and neck were hot. Tears streamed down my face as I found the courage to type my reply. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”
For the next two weeks neither he nor I mentioned this. We went about our days as normal. I, of course, reflected on the what, why, when where and how.
It was all making sense. We had been dating for more than six months. He He held my hand, held my body close to his and kissed me passionately. There was always a very hard stop with any gesture that hinted it would progress further. He avoided being alone with me for long hours at my home and he very rarely invited me to his home. He assured me that there was no one else, but his answers never brought me complete confidence. We spent a lot of time together publicly. While I did not go to his home often, I had been there. He lived like a bachelor. I never detected a hint of another woman sharing the space.
A few weeks after the infamous text, he invited me out for late night drinks and a walk on the intercostal. He told me that it was time for me to ask him all the questions I wanted about his status. I asked instead for him to share everything he wanted me to know.
That night he told me all about a very difficult childhood filled with abuse. As he grew older, he vowed never to be a victim and learned to fight. He used his fists as a weapon to settle every problem, which led to negative encounters with law enforcement and the court system.
Taking this all in was like watching a Netflix movie. This man had demonstrated nothing but kindness to me. When he told me about his uncontrollable anger and rage, it frightened me. How could the man who I had met and developed such affection for be the man he was describing?
He continued with his life story. He spiraled to a low point and turned to marijuana, cocaine, then crystal meth. I was bowled over. I listened intently as he continued now with tears in his eyes. With each confession, he apologized for not telling me sooner. I sat quietly listening at his every word. Just as I believed the confessions could get no worse, they got worse, then better and then worse again. He was found guilty of a felony and sentenced to prison.
I was mostly quiet and absorbing his every word. I am not sure why, but I asked what it did to his mother for him to go to prison. He told me that his mother was relieved when he was sentenced to prison. For the first time since he was about 16, she knew where he was at midnight.
He and one of his brothers had had some sibling rivalry issues and were not speaking to one another. While in prison, his brother died unexpectedly. His family petitioned the courts to allow him to attend the services, but it was denied. He was devastated that he was unable to attend the funeral. He described this as the fork in the road, the pivotal moment in his journey. While in his prison cell and during what was his brother’s funeral, he vowed to clean up his life and never be in prison again.
A year later he was released and took the first step in the journey of a thousand miles. He committed to living a drug free life, joined the church and began intensive counseling. He secured employment with a company that embraces second chances for felons and began the company’s leadership program.
He had not yet addressed his status, so I thought he needed me to ask him directly. I did. I asked if he had contracted HIV in prison. It certainly was a loaded question because he would have to share that he was raped in prison and/or willingly participated in same-sex relationships. He told me he had done neither and reminded me that he had learned early to protect himself.
His confessions continued. Every day was a struggle, but he was committed to living a conscious life of sobriety and atoning for his transgressions. Though he was unable to attend his brother’s funeral, counseling had brought him some closure and he was working hard at the relationships with his mother and the siblings he had left. Life was looking good. He was excelling at work and was drug and alcohol free. But the best thing about his life was that he had met a wonderful woman and the two of them were planning a future together. His life could get no more perfect. He felt alive in a way he never had.
A health scare required that he undergo surgery. As part of pre-operation testing, he tested positive for HIV. Sharing needles had caught up with him. He was scared and concerned for himself and his future. His concern for himself paled in comparison to his worry about his beautiful Belle. How could he tell her? Had he infected the woman he loved?
He wept, then sobbed. I held him close to me and we took a break from the confessions.
When I returned to my vehicle and drove home, I cried uncontrollably. It was all making sense. There were times when he would suddenly go into a shell and want to be alone. He had been dealt so much trauma and he was doing so well, however the chaos that held him prisoner would sometimes visit, and he would go to that dark place that I knew nothing about. During those times he would retreat from me. I didn’t understand then, but it was becoming clear now.
Time passed and we were ready for more confessions. The woman he loved was tested and she was HIV negative. Upon finding out this good news, he packed up his things and just left her. Though she loved him and was committed to working through these challenges, he walked out of her life and didn’t look back. He told me it was the hardest thing he had ever done, putting someone else before himself. He had lived a life of taking from others and putting himself first for his own survival. He had never been selfless and truly considered what was best for another human being. He explained that he hurt her for the moment to keep from hurting her for a lifetime.
The surgery was rescheduled for a later date. In the interim, he began the roller coaster ride of understanding how to live with HIV, while also continuing the journey of a thousand miles of dealing with his brother’s death and his childhood trauma. The surgery happened and was successful only for another ton of bricks to come tumbling down on him. His first love was rushed to the hospital, and she died before he could get there to say a final goodbye. The girl he had known and loved all his life was taken from him at one of his weakest moments.
He told me that when he looked in the mirror, he didn’t like the image looking back at him. He felt he was being punished. He felt he was cursed. He hated himself. He spiraled out of control and relapsed to drugs and alcohol again.
I thought it was time to take a break from the confessions. He allowed me to hold him. I wrapped my body around his so tightly until you couldn’t tell where his skin began and mine ended. I didn’t know what I was going to do. All I knew was I had never experienced this level of transparency with another human being.
Our next confessions session happened the next morning. After recovering from the relapse due to his mother’s death, he turned to God to carry him through. He told me that in order to survive he needed a power higher than man. Losing his mother was so deeply painful, he knew that the only thing that could get him through is a divine intervention. He continued his journey of a thousand miles.
Nine months later, I met him still wounded but determined to become the man God intended him to be. I fell in love with him and the entire broken mess. I fell in love with an HIV-positive man, and I choose to love and be with him every single day.
We work on ourselves individually and then we work together as a couple. We have not consummated our relationship, but we have researched PrEP, a medication that a HIV-negative person takes to protect themselves when their partner is positive and undetectable. When we are ready, we will take that step and I haven’t the slightest inhibition.
I had always been told that my standards for a lifetime partner were too high and I should consider relaxing them. Some might believe I have lowered my standards. Let me beg to differ. My standards are right where they have always been. I fell in love with a damaged, HIV-positive man and it has been the most beautiful experience of my life. The man he is and is becoming inspires me. I have never felt so loved and protected. I have met and fallen head over feet for a man whose painful journey has helped him to love deeply and unconditionally. Love is greater than any stigma, and I am grateful to love and be loved by him.
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