2008
I only just now remembered that today, January 2nd, 2008, is the anniversary of my HIV diagnosis. Been poz...and healthy...for seven years now. It doesn't mean as much to me as it once did. It's weird how this Before and After mentality plays with my mind. When I was still HIV-, I met HIV+ men and...well, they were HIV+ and it never really occurred to me that they too were once negative. I started to think about all those people after I was diagnosed, thinking how they all went through the same psychological change. In particular, I remember this beautiful boy named Daniel in San Francisco, who had a large, homoerotic tattoo on his back. He and I had eyes for each other. I certainly would have gotten naked with him. I could have dated him. Then I found out he was HIV+...only 20 years old and poz, and this at a time when the disease was still killing by the dozens every week. That, in and of itself, didn't phase me. Sure, I'd still have sex with him. Just use a condom and be careful of those fluids. I had an understanding of HIV that, even now, many people don't seem to: that, after you've assessed how it works and what needs to happen for transmission and how long it survives outside of the body...
It's actually a very difficult disease to get.
Thousands of gay men got it because they happen to enjoy that one, particular activity that is high risk: buttfucking and taking sperm in the ass. Often very rough buttfucking too, so tissue is ripped up.
In those days, I had my friends telling me the risks were high because the virus can be absorbed through mucous membranes. But then I had...not one...not two...but THREE different professional AIDS educators telling me "No. There has to be a blood factor. It has to be exposed to blood."
What put me off though, was that Daniel figured his days were numbered and so he HATED HIV- guys. Hated them. He didn't know my status. When I found out, I distanced myself, because I didn't want to be a target. I still think about him from time to time. I wonder if he survived long enough to get on the new meds that came out in the mid-90's, if he's still alive now. I remember smoking pot with him and us just quietly giving each other that "I sure do likes ya!" look and cuddling a bit.
Now.
I've become so adapted to having this disease, that I am sometimes surprised to remember that I was once HIV-. I imagine that in a few years time, I will forget this anniversary altogether.
---
Resolutions:
My two New Year's Resolutions are ones I've been thinking about for some time now before now, but I see no reason not to make them official as of now.
1. To re-identify myself according to what I do...writing, drawing and painting, rather than clinging to that dreadful abstract term "artist" and to identify all my works in like manner. I've already written extensively about this in another post a few weeks ago.
2. To be mindful of how disagreements can become power struggles. This is the root of what people commonly call "drama". This often happens when people use sarcasm (I think sarcasm is best avoided during disagreements) or, of course, when someone presents his feelings or opinions as an accusation or attacks the other person. This is all part of a larger project in my emotional development: managing anger so that I don't bottle it up inside me but don't just blast at people either...to state my truth without disrespecting the other person. Refraining from turning a disagreement into a power struggle will, I think, be somewhat easy. The hard part is knowing how to respond when someone does it to me, because there certainly are still plenty of very immature people out there who think that whatever they're feeling or thinking is THE TRUTH and absolutely MUST be said and don't give a rat's ass about respecting and honoring other people.
I'm tired of looking down on other people. I've lost interest in being the jaded, hip asswipe who sits in the coffee house and goes, "People are stupid, man. People suck." and goes on to site examples and posture himself as a superior (as if I've never made any dumb choices! HA!) and to glorify being a hater. And it's not that I want to become some hippie reaching out to love everyone. I just keep getting tastes of genuine acceptance of the world as it is throughout my life...and those tastes are nice. It's nice to be at peace with things. Being bitter and spiteful and judgmental just sucks. It's baggage. It gets heavy. I wanna stow it.
My best friend has a saying: "Most people are doing the best they can with what they've got, but it usually doesn't look like it."
Fortunately, I look back on 2007 and I see that I'm not having nearly so much trouble with anger and hate as I have with depression and insecurity. That, unfortunately, I do not know how to deal with, other than acknowledging that they are there. I have found that it helps to remember that I'm not alone in this, that there are millions of people all over who fall into deep depressions, that it's a serious problem. I keep wondering whether there is any real difference between loneliness and depression. They seem so similar to me these days, that it's hard to tell them apart.
Well, all in due time I suppose. This month I will be going to Portland to visit my mother. She really wants this. It's been so hard dealing with her. We got into an email discussion about boundaries. How, for many years, I've never really thought about setting my boundaries and enforcing them and how by not doing this, I allowed people to just walk all over my face so many times. And we talked about boundaries in her life too. But my mother is still locked in the victim mentality. Drama unfolds around her and she's always this innocent person being attacked from out of nowhere and discussions like these are largely intellectual to her. She thinks about it. She thinks and thinks. The gears turn. But she never faces herself. She wants to continue this conversation in person, and it's going to detail her husbund's family. To be honest, they are pretty nutty. She married into the Jerry Springer show. OMG so dysfunctional. But even then, when she tells me the latest horror story of someone misbehaving, I'm always aware that I'm only hearing HER side of it and that makes things difficult when she asks for my opinion. They hate her guts so I can see why she's upset, but then she goes and does little passive-aggressive, snotty things to make matters worse. You know, just some little nasty comment that gouges the wrong person and all Hell breaks loose. Another power struggle.
The Serenity prayer goes:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I know that I cannot change my mother. But what I don't know is if she's capable of changing. She seems, often, like a crotchety old lady who becomes ever more set in her ways and I just want to leave her be, but then these delicate subjects get brought up and she wants to engage me and I feel untruthful if I just kiss her ass and don't tell her what I really think.
So...I guess I got a lot on my plate this year.
It's actually a very difficult disease to get.
Thousands of gay men got it because they happen to enjoy that one, particular activity that is high risk: buttfucking and taking sperm in the ass. Often very rough buttfucking too, so tissue is ripped up.
In those days, I had my friends telling me the risks were high because the virus can be absorbed through mucous membranes. But then I had...not one...not two...but THREE different professional AIDS educators telling me "No. There has to be a blood factor. It has to be exposed to blood."
What put me off though, was that Daniel figured his days were numbered and so he HATED HIV- guys. Hated them. He didn't know my status. When I found out, I distanced myself, because I didn't want to be a target. I still think about him from time to time. I wonder if he survived long enough to get on the new meds that came out in the mid-90's, if he's still alive now. I remember smoking pot with him and us just quietly giving each other that "I sure do likes ya!" look and cuddling a bit.
Now.
I've become so adapted to having this disease, that I am sometimes surprised to remember that I was once HIV-. I imagine that in a few years time, I will forget this anniversary altogether.
---
Resolutions:
My two New Year's Resolutions are ones I've been thinking about for some time now before now, but I see no reason not to make them official as of now.
1. To re-identify myself according to what I do...writing, drawing and painting, rather than clinging to that dreadful abstract term "artist" and to identify all my works in like manner. I've already written extensively about this in another post a few weeks ago.
2. To be mindful of how disagreements can become power struggles. This is the root of what people commonly call "drama". This often happens when people use sarcasm (I think sarcasm is best avoided during disagreements) or, of course, when someone presents his feelings or opinions as an accusation or attacks the other person. This is all part of a larger project in my emotional development: managing anger so that I don't bottle it up inside me but don't just blast at people either...to state my truth without disrespecting the other person. Refraining from turning a disagreement into a power struggle will, I think, be somewhat easy. The hard part is knowing how to respond when someone does it to me, because there certainly are still plenty of very immature people out there who think that whatever they're feeling or thinking is THE TRUTH and absolutely MUST be said and don't give a rat's ass about respecting and honoring other people.
I'm tired of looking down on other people. I've lost interest in being the jaded, hip asswipe who sits in the coffee house and goes, "People are stupid, man. People suck." and goes on to site examples and posture himself as a superior (as if I've never made any dumb choices! HA!) and to glorify being a hater. And it's not that I want to become some hippie reaching out to love everyone. I just keep getting tastes of genuine acceptance of the world as it is throughout my life...and those tastes are nice. It's nice to be at peace with things. Being bitter and spiteful and judgmental just sucks. It's baggage. It gets heavy. I wanna stow it.
My best friend has a saying: "Most people are doing the best they can with what they've got, but it usually doesn't look like it."
Fortunately, I look back on 2007 and I see that I'm not having nearly so much trouble with anger and hate as I have with depression and insecurity. That, unfortunately, I do not know how to deal with, other than acknowledging that they are there. I have found that it helps to remember that I'm not alone in this, that there are millions of people all over who fall into deep depressions, that it's a serious problem. I keep wondering whether there is any real difference between loneliness and depression. They seem so similar to me these days, that it's hard to tell them apart.
Well, all in due time I suppose. This month I will be going to Portland to visit my mother. She really wants this. It's been so hard dealing with her. We got into an email discussion about boundaries. How, for many years, I've never really thought about setting my boundaries and enforcing them and how by not doing this, I allowed people to just walk all over my face so many times. And we talked about boundaries in her life too. But my mother is still locked in the victim mentality. Drama unfolds around her and she's always this innocent person being attacked from out of nowhere and discussions like these are largely intellectual to her. She thinks about it. She thinks and thinks. The gears turn. But she never faces herself. She wants to continue this conversation in person, and it's going to detail her husbund's family. To be honest, they are pretty nutty. She married into the Jerry Springer show. OMG so dysfunctional. But even then, when she tells me the latest horror story of someone misbehaving, I'm always aware that I'm only hearing HER side of it and that makes things difficult when she asks for my opinion. They hate her guts so I can see why she's upset, but then she goes and does little passive-aggressive, snotty things to make matters worse. You know, just some little nasty comment that gouges the wrong person and all Hell breaks loose. Another power struggle.
The Serenity prayer goes:
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.
I know that I cannot change my mother. But what I don't know is if she's capable of changing. She seems, often, like a crotchety old lady who becomes ever more set in her ways and I just want to leave her be, but then these delicate subjects get brought up and she wants to engage me and I feel untruthful if I just kiss her ass and don't tell her what I really think.
So...I guess I got a lot on my plate this year.