My Storybook of Life

Anyone that has been diagnosed with a disease always has the "what if" thoughts and fears. Society has trained us to take these thoughts and fears and lock them in a box, tuck them deep down inside and move on with hope. So, we do, and are seemingly stronger individuals.

My first instinct after being diagnosed HIV-Positive, besides my survival, was to fear. I began spinning like a toy top, not knowing what the answers to my fears would be or where my answers would even come from. What about the ridicule? What about my family, my friends? What will happen if I want to date again? The biggest one of all. What about my DEATH? Yet, I am a properly trained robot of society's “How to Be Tough and Strong army.” I found my own box and placed each shred of doubt and worry I had deep inside. I locked it tight, wiped my hands, and continued with my "be normal" mission.

Everything seemed great for a while. Family was still crazy. Work was still profiting off of all the wigs I've produced (by making me pull out my hair!), and I convinced myself that I was happy. Everything was fine until I had to visit my grandmother. She was suffering and dying yet she was so young at 66 years of age. I held it together until one moment while feeding her. I was kissing her soft little cheeks with every good bite, when I felt something shaking, rattling, until it began pounding inside of me. I closed my eyes as tight as they could close, clenched my teeth, and held my breath.

Then it happened: my box--my scary, fear-filled box--burst opened. The rush of all my fears began swirling around me like a hurricane of thoughts and fears which can' be answered. And the one I dread the most landed in my lap; my own death.

I absorbed all the emotions around me. The sadness, the immense love, the grief, the confusion, the angst that my family was unknowingly feeding my monster. I felt as though I was in a dream and I began to get physically sick. I made it through that weekend, I made it through grueling days at work, robotically smiling, laughing, socializing, but slowly and rapidly I was losing myself.


My fears were consuming me. The nights were filled with little to no sleep...

Home was a different story. Home is where I would shut down, no longer being able to function as I felt the light--the light so full of hope and happiness fizzling out. I tried to keep it lit, but couldn't and I slipped into darkness. No light, no love, no hope. Only the fears of my death. I am scared. Will I die young? How will I die? I don't have any stamps on my passport! Will people learn of my monster, my secret, my HIV? Will I ever find true love or reluctantly kiss him goodbye when he learns of my Jekyll? Every evening I filled the tub with salty tears as I tried to wash it all away, but I couldn’t. My fears were consuming me. The nights were filled with little to no sleep since my R.E.M was being invaded with nightmares. Nightmares featuring my death from a poison cocktail of pills... a pine casket rotting from my tainted flesh covered body... a room full of people whispering horrible, hateful things as they point at my corpse with no one daring to get close to the monster.

Each day I have to get up and plant my feet firmly on the ground and focus on my light inside.

The worst nightmare of all is the one that haunts me repeatedly. In it my mother is in a room all alone with my cold body, holding me, kissing my icy cheeks, loving me without condition. My momma filled with pain and grief because I had HIV.

Stop telling God, “Hey God I got a BIG PROBLEM!” Instead say, “Hey Problem, I got a BIG POWERFUL GOD! Understanding your attitude makes all the difference!

This is not my favorite chapter in my storybook of life. It's dark and hateful, and scary, but each day I turn to a new page. I know I will embark on my new chapter, a chapter filled with glorious hope and happiness and love. Each day I have to get up and plant my feet firmly on the ground and focus on my light inside, and I am slowly rekindling the flame. Once it's lit I will be able to see all the debris from my box and know it's not as scary as it seems. I may be in the dark right now, but I am never giving up on my life and I will never give in completely to all my fears.
 
-Jen, 6 years

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