Having HIV

I'm Not Doing Well - I'm Tired

2021-03-07T13:41:00.000-07:00

I'm not doing well. I'm currently off work because of depression, anxiety and my functional neurological disorder (FND). Last year I was off for about 5 months because of depression. In December the depression came back and has been stalking me ever since.

Currently my mood has been weird. I'm depressed, I feel hopeless at times but at the same time I have all these ideas and things I want to do and I try to do them. But, when I do, I can concentrate. I'm really irritable and everything small and big is making me angry. I'm supposed to be using this time to get better but my brain won't let me. Sometimes I can focus and get things done and then other times I'm just not capable. It's exhausting.

I'm really tired of feeling this way. I'm angry and embarrassed being off work again. Speaking with my therapist, I know I shouldn't be angry with myself, I shouldn't be embarrassed, this is a part of living with mental illness. This isn't the first time I've been off work and it probably won't be the last. It makes me feel like a failure. The things I struggle with, the things that trigger my anxiety, bipolar disorder and FND are things that people deal with everyday. I see my friends and family deal with them no problem. I know they don't have mental illness and I shouldn't be comparing myself but my brain is being an asshole right now and I'm continually in this trap of putting myself down and feeling hopeless.

I'm scared to go back to work. My role is really stressful. The place is toxic at times. I asked to be moved to a less stressful role due to my illnesses and I was told they don't have to accommodate me because it's just stress. I said it's more than stress and that my mental illnesses and neurological disorder are being triggered by the work I do. They didn't care, all they heard was stress and told me they don't have to accommodate me.

You might be thinking, they can't do that. That's wrong. You need to fight back. The problem is I don't have the mental capacity to do so. I'm tired of fighting. I'm tired of advocating for myself. I'm tired of doing the right thing and having it used against me. I'm just really fucking tired.

I know I should be looking for work elsewhere. But like everything else I find it very overwhelming. I pull up job postings and I get overwhelmed. The thought of reading the job posting, writing a cover letter, changing my resume makes me want to run and hide. I think too far forward. I don't think about just applying for the role, I think about how I'm going to have to start over at a new company. Meet ne people. Learn new systems and tasks. Worry about doing a good job, making a good impression. It's my anxiety. It takes over and I struggle to stop it. People always say "one step at a time" but anxiety likes to screw with me and be like "lets think about everything that could be overwhelming and everything that can go wrong."

I also have the stress of applying for disability benefits through the insurance company. Since I was on short term disability last year, they are saying I exhausted those benefits and I now have to apply for long term disability. The catch with that is, there is a pre-existing clause. If I was being treated for my condition 90 days before I was eligible for benefits, they can deny my claim. I've been treated for mental illness since I was in my 20's, of course it's pre-existing. So I am just sitting here waiting for them to deny my claim. I'm running out of money. If they don't approve me, I will have to go back to work, which I'm not healthy enough to do. If I don't go back to work, I will run out of money and not be able to pay my bills. I'm fucked.

Getting help, to get health for mental illness shouldn't be this difficult. I'm trying to get healthy so that I can work. But every step is made so difficult. I've been off work for five weeks now. Five weeks of not being paid. I'm fortunate I have savings, a lot of people don't. But it's still stressful because I don't have a lot of savings and I'm going to run out of money soon.

I'm tired of struggling. I'm tired of fighting to be healthy. I'm tired of trying to do the right thing. I'm tired of trying to advocate for myself.

I'M TIRED

Bi-Yearly HIV Appointment - Abnormal cells, medication change & more!

2020-08-12T12:13:00.000-06:00

I had my bi-yearly appointment with my HIV doctor yesterday. My appointment was in person, not a telephone appointment. At first I was annoyed by this, I didn't want to drive all the way downtown. However, getting to see my doctor and nurse was great. They are both so kind, friendly and energetic. It was also good to get out and have a regular appointment which provided some normalcy during these uncertain times.

My viral load is still undetectable woot woot! We are going to switch my medication from Triumeq to Dovato. Apparently,studies show that three medications in one aren't needed for people who's HIV has been stable. I'm down for that! It's still only one pill but the less medication I need to take feels like a good thing since, I take quite a few for different issues.

Unfortunately my liver enzymes are still high. Three years ago my family doctor sent me for an ultrasound, I was told I have the beginnings of non-alcoholic fatty liver disease. Well, three years later my enzymes are still high so I have to go for another ultrasound. Thankfully I don't have to wait too long, my appointment is on August 24th. I've been trying to eat healthy, the struggle is real.

I LOVE fast food. My Mom barely cooked when I was a kid, so we ordered out a lot. Our fridge and pantry were always full, my Mom bought healthy things but when we had pizza pops and wagon wheels in full stock all the time and she was at work all the time, choosing healthy was rarely a thing. My poor brain has been loving fast food since I was a kid. When I'm happy I want fast food. When I'm sad, I want fast food. When I'm angry, I want fast food.

I've tried over the years, many, many, many times to stop eating fast food. My doctor was like you need to eat healthy, exercise and lose weight. I said "I'm trying." I've been going for long walks. I've been increasing my fruits and veggies but sometimes the cravings for fast food are so intense. Lately I've been working on self-compassion and working on my anxiety. I keep reminding myself every time I try to quit fast food cold turkey, I always crash. So I am trying to make small changes and increase them over time. I rarely drink alcohol anymore. Last year I decided to limit drinking alcohol to help my physical and mental health. I realized even if I just have a couple of drinks, my mental health would be impacted negatively because of it.

I also have to go see a gastroenterologist because my anal pap smears keep showing abnormal cells (atypical squamous cells of undetermined significance - ascus). A few years ago I had to have some of the cells removed for a biopsy (side note: the doctor accidentally shocked my asshole and then I awkwardly had to figure out how to put a maxi pad on - (I'm a guy) - with no help from the medical staff, I realized it attached to the underwear haha). Thankfully the biopsy didn't come back as cancerous. Fingers crossed that will be the result again.

I also have to go for tests for blood sugar and cholesterol because I haven't had those done in quite awhile.

It was quite a jam packed appointment, usually I go in and it's:

💊 Any issues taking your medications? / How many doses have you missed?

💊 Your viral load is undetectable

💊 Your shots are all up to date

💊 Here is your prescription, see you in 6 months

I am thankful that I have an awesome doctor and an awesome nurse. I am thankful that anytime I've needed a shot, the cost is covered by our healthcare. I am thankful when I've needed a procedure, I didn't have to worry about going into health care debt, that our taxes go to our healthcare. I am thankful that I can discuss my HIV and my other health issues and needs with my family and friends.

WHAT! Another diagnosis?!

2020-02-02T22:39:00.000-07:00

I stayed in bed most of the day. I feel like garbage. I finally got out of bed around 6 pm, that was to answer the door to obtain my McDonalds I ordered. I ate too much because I'm depressed. I'm trying not to beat myself up. It's hard. I'm really angry with life always feeling so difficult. Angry I have so much wrong with me.

Recently I was diagnosed with FND - Functional Neurological Disorder. For about a year and half I think (if I think back, my migraine stroke symptoms in 2012 could be a part of this), I have been having involuntary muscle movements.

At first my family doctor thought I was having seizures and told me he was going to have my drivers licence revoked. I cried in my car. Thoughts of how much more difficult my life was going to be because I wouldn't have the freedom of driving - the transit system here isn't great. Thankfully, he consulted with a neurologist first and called me and told me the neurologist didn't believe I was having seizures and didn't recommend revoking my drivers licence. He said he was going to refer me to the movement disorder clinic, it could take a year or so to get in. Wait. Waiting is all I could do.

My symptoms were getting worse. They were happening almost everyday. Somedays worse than others. My eyes will clamp shut. My jaw will contract to the left or right. I will twitch throughout my body. I will lose my balance as I walk. A few times I had full body episodes. Twice, I had seizure like episodes but I was fully aware of it, I didn't lose control of my bodily functions. I couldn't stop them. After they finished I felt really out of it. Couldn't think straight and felt really tired. A couple times I got up off my couch and as I went to walk my muscles starting contracting. My body was being ridiculous - I felt like a marionette, my limbs moving around, out of my control.

I made an appointment with my family doctor to let him know my symptoms were progressing. He called the neurologists office and within a couple of days I got a call, they had a cancellation and they could get me in a few days later. That was fortunate, we all know seeing a neurologist can be a long wait. This was my 1st appointment with the neurologist. He did a bunch of movement tests and said he felt what was happening was psychological. He prescribed me clonazepam and told me to take .5 mg a day, if after 3 months my symptoms seemed to have somewhat improved, to take the medication twice a day. I ended up going to twice a day and my symptoms improved quite a bit.

A week ago I had a follow up appointment with the neurologist. He was happy to hear that my symptoms were improving. He said since the medication was working that showed him that it was on the psychological side. He stressed that doesn't mean I am making the symptoms happen, it means they aren't caused by a neurological disease but the symptoms are real. He told me to check out the website fndhope.org and that if my symptoms do get worse, to call his office to see him again.

My symptoms have been shitty this weekend - but I'm not surprised. I had a stressful week at work and realized how much I hate my job. The workload is insane, my manager is toxic and I left a toxic job believing this one would be better. On top of the stressful week at work, I get diagnosed with yet another illness.

I have HIV, Asthma, IBS, Anxiety, Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, and now Functional Neurological Disorder. Oh, I also have a Hiatal Hernia, Tinnitus and sometimes Gout - might as well list them all right? Haha.

Today, I stayed in bed most of the day, ate a lot of McDonalds and then put my ass on the couch and watched t.v. And you know what, I needed today to be a depressing day. I needed today to be a woe is me day. It's been a rough week and it shouldn't be unexpected that I feel overwhelmed and sad.

The Happiest Depressed Person I Know

2019-11-10T17:52:00.000-07:00

My previous family doctor was the first person I told I was depressed. He put me on Zoloft and I would continue to see him until he retired several years later. (It would be a few years later that I would be diagnosed with bipolar and realized Zoloft was a bad idea. Oops.)

He had a wonderful nurse that worked for him (all of the staff were amazing) and she once told me "you're the happiest, depressed person I know." She said this because even though I was diagnosed with depression and even if I was in an episode of depression, I would always say hello with a smile on my face. I was always friendly, laugh if someone said something funny and crack my own jokes as well.

I've thought about that statement off and on over the years. Originally, my first thought was "I have to be like that, it's my way to survive. I'm putting on a brave face."

But that's not true. I've been thinking about that statement recently, because I've been in an episode of depression and I've realized in those moments, when I'm being nice to people, when I'm laughing, making jokes and so on, it's genuine. I'm not acting. Depression conned me into believing I was putting on an act.

Lately I've been very depressed. One moment, I can be cracking a joke, dancing around and then when that stops "the weight of depression returns." Thoughts of hurting myself or moments of binge eating return. The laughter, the joking, the interacting with people, doesn't get rid of my depression, it temporarily pauses it. Then the depression rushes back in like one of my IBS attacks, fast and furious.

It's amazing how depression can be so deceptive. My depression loves to tell me in those moments when I'm interacting with people, laughing, helping, whatever it may be, they are fake, they aren't real. Only the depression is real, everything else is an illusion.

When I remembered that statement and had the idea to write this post, I realized, that's bull shit.

It's not an illusion. It's the depression part of my brain trying to win over the healthy side of my brain. It's the depression part of my brain trying to mess with me. Telling me lies. Making me believe that I can't actually achieve feeling good. But, it's bullshit. Those moments are genuine, they are real and I need to remind myself of that. I need to keep reminding myself to try and hold the depression at bay.

Depression is a crook, it's trying to steal my good moments, it has a strong front and it's relentless. To build up the defences and create a strong front for the good part of my brain, I need to allow myself to acknowledge those good moments are real, they are genuine and they can continue to happen.

So when an employee tells me "I love how excited you get about things", I am going to tell myself "that statement is true and I bring joy to others" instead of "they are trying to tell me I am over the top and they don't like me."

When someone tells me "you are always so friendly when I see you", I am going to tell myself "I am friendly to others and it makes a difference" instead of "they think I'm miserable and I need to be happier."

When someone tells me "I really appreciate your help." I'm going to tell myself " I was helpful, I am knowledgeable" instead of "I'm stupid and they feel bad for me, they are just being nice."

I am going to allow myself the opportunity to acknowledge the truth. It won't be easy. At times, depression will do what it does best, attack me, to bring down my defences.

There will be times where depression is an A+ con artist that pulls one over on me. My challenge will be, when that con artist does pull one over on me, not to take the blame. It's not my fault. Depression is a thief, a con artist, a liar, a manipulator and more.

I can be happy and depressed, that is valid and I will make the effort to acknowledge the happy moments and when the negatives ones creep through, I will attempt to make the effort to wade through the shit and find the truth.

And if I can't wade through the shit, then at the very least I need to know, it's not my fault, the fault belongs to depression.

Depression is not me, it's a separate entity that has squatter rights in my brain. Get the fuck out, you have overstayed your welcome, you weren't welcome in the first place.

Forgiving Myself - A letter from my adult self to my adult self

2019-05-19T00:00:00.000-06:00

I've been struggling lately. I'm depressed. In my last post, I wrote about an experience I had at the bathhouse. This most recent experience made me re-live being raped there. I left the bathhouse upset. Instead of blaming the guy who didn't want to accept my no, I blamed myself. I told myself that it's my fault that this happened to me. It's my fault because I'm a whore for going to the bathhouse. It's my fault because I sleep with too many guys, I'm disgusting because I use sex as an escape.

In my last therapist appointment I brought up how I was feeling. I got really upset. I was shaking because I was so angry with myself. I wanted to hit myself I was so angry. I talked about how I keep watching more extreme porn, using bigger sex toys and having so much sex and making more extreme sex choices because it's like trying to achieve a high. I'm trying to numb how I feel. I know the numbness from the sex is only temporary but it's better than nothing. After my appointment, I realized something. I need to forgive myself.

I previously wrote a letter to myself, my child self writing my adult self, forgiving me for everything I had been through and forgiving me for how I felt. I realized I needed to write a letter from my adult self to my adult self for what I've been through as an adult, choices I made to help me survive my feelings.

The letter:

You're hurting, a lot. You're sad. You're angry. You feel ashamed. You blame yourself. You're disgusted with choices you've made. Sexual choices. You've been chasing a high to avoid how you feel. It hasn't worked. It just makes you feel worse. You keep making extreme sex choices because you feel lonely. You feel empty. Because it takes away the pain even knowing it's only temporary.

I forgive you. I really do. This isn't your fault. You do it because you don't know what else to do. I forgive you. You do these sexual things because of your past traumas. Being raped, having an alcoholic, angry father. A sister who committed crimes. Being bullied. Feeling abandoned. Feeling unwanted. Feeling unloveable. Feeling worthless. Feeling like an inconvenience.

Watching porn, using large sex toys. Going to the bathhouse and having sex with lots of guys. Putting on a blindfold and letting guys fuck you. You did all that because you blame yourself for everything. Because of what you've been through. I forgive you. You are not worthless. You're not an inconvenience. You're not unloveable. You are worth everything. You are loveable. You are worth kindness. You are worth respect.

You don't need to be extremely sexual. You don't need to escape your feelings anymore. You are capable of managing your feelings. You are capable of changing your circumstances. Your family loves and cares about you. Your friends care about and love you. I care about and love you.

Your past doesn't have to weigh you down. Your past doesn't make you less than. You are worth loving. I'm excited for you to accept and move past this. You've been surviving for so long. You have permission to live your life. You deserve happiness. You are forgiven. I love you.

Overwhelmed with Feelings

2019-05-08T20:14:00.000-06:00

Fuck. The darkness is back. It's heavy, it's exhausting, it won't leave me alone. I went grocery shopping today. It felt like I was trying to complete a marathon. I kept wandering around aimlessly, forgetting what I needed. A mental fog slowing me down, my brain tingly with confusion. There was one point where I wanted to give up shopping for groceries and just sit down in the aisle. I didn't. I pushed through and got back to my car. I sat in my car for a few minutes, I was so exhausted.

I tried to give myself credit. Credit for getting out bed and showering. Credit for buying groceries and putting them away when I got home. I know those are accomplishments when I'm feeling like such garbage but the negative talk takes over. I start telling myself, people do these things everyday. They are expected of us. People do these things with kids and other obligations. I'm pathetic. I'm not, but I am, but I'm not. Fuck off negative thoughts. Fuck off.

The darkness, the depression, the negative thoughts are because I've been avoiding something. My previous post was about writing a letter to the man who raped me at the bathhouse. I was finally starting to free myself of that. It wasn't consuming my thoughts, every minute of every day anymore. I was breaking free of it's grip until I was at the bathhouse a couple weeks ago. I was laying on my stomach, this guy was fucking me. I wasn't enjoying it and I wanted to take a break. I said "I need to take a break." He responded "ah, really?" in an annoyed tone. "Yes, I want to take a break."

When I tried to get up he wrapped his arms around me, his arm pressed against the front of my neck and said "shh, shh, just lay there, lay there, it's okay, it's okay." I froze. I wanted to move, I couldn't. My brain, my body, wouldn't let me. When I was raped, I was also on my stomach. I said I wanted to stop. When I tried to get up, he pushed me back down.

As I laid there with this guys arms wrapped around me, his arm on my neck making it uncomfortable to breath, I was frozen. I wanted to yell. I wanted to get up. I couldn't move. I wanted his dick out of me. Instead, I laid there, replaying what happened to me the last time I said no. Remembering when I said no and tried to get up, the guy pushing me back down. Remembering when I tried to get loud, the guy putting his hand over my mouth and biting his hand didn't stop him. Not just remembering but reliving it.

This guy kept kissing me and telling me not to move, to just relax, to wait a moment, saying to me "it's okay." I finally was able to speak, I said "I want to stop, I don't want to do this anymore." He said "ah man!, fine!, lame!"in an angry tone and finally got off of me, got out of me. I laid there, unable to move, waiting for him to leave the room. He slowly wrapped his towel around him. His tone changed. In a friendly tone he said "okay, well have a good one, oh, oh, here's your lube, don't want you to lose it." After what felt like an eternity, he finally opened the door and left.

I stayed motionless, thinking to myself, how many times is this going to happen? I thought about the past, when I wasn't comfortable saying no, before I had the courage to withdraw consent, before I was able to assert my needs. I thought about all the times I wanted to say no and I didn't. The times I wanted to stop but I let the guy finish because I didn't want to make him mad. If I would have been able to say no, how many of them would have kept going?

(On a side note, I am listening to music while I write this and "Do what you want with my body" by Lady Gaga came on - bad fucking timing).

I know I shouldn't blame myself. I shouldn't blame myself but I can't help it. I keep thinking, that it's my fault, my fault because I'm a slut for going to the bathhouse. It's my fault because I let him climb on top of me and fuck me, without even saying a word, without getting his name. I keep thinking about what a whore I am. I'm angry. I'm hurting and directing it all inward.

When these negative thoughts manifest, I become overwhelmed. I want them to stop. I keep imagining myself walking into the bathroom, grabbing a razor blade and sliding the blade across my skin. Anything to make the pain, the feelings stop. I would rather the pain of the blade than the pain of what I'm feeling.

It's been almost a couple years since I've cut myself. The last time I cut myself, I cut the word whore into my left thigh and the word faggot into my right thigh. The urge to do so again is strong, so strong. I resist because I don't want the scars. I don't want the daily reminder of what I did. I am lucky, the cuts healed last time, what if they don't this time? Instead of cutting, I eat. I eat too much. Too much fast food. After I gorge, I hate myself and I want to cut myself.

Instead of cutting myself, I am writing. I am talking about what happened. Sharing my feelings in the hopes of lifting some of this weight holding me down. Letting it out. However,

I'm... I'm... just so tired of trying to survive. When will I feel like I'm living and not just surviving? Will that ever happen? Is it possible?

A Letter To My Rapist

2018-09-30T17:08:00.000-06:00

I was raped about a year ago, it happened at the bathhouse. In the last year, I thought that I had dealt with it. As one year since it happened came closer and closer, I kept thinking about it more and more. I kept replaying what happened in my mind, over and over. Whenever I would think about it, I was consumed with guilt and sadness.

In my last couple therapy sessions, I kept saying I wanted to write a letter to my rapist to work through what I was feeling. I did this previously, writing a letter to my dad and it worked well. Of course, I love to procrastinate and keep those feelings bottled up, so I kept putting it off. Well, finally, today, I wrote that letter. It was hard.

At one point I was so angry I punched my table, the next moment I was sobbing uncontrollably. I'm glad I finally did this, I needed to write that letter, get those feelings out. I feel like I ran a marathon but I also have a feeling of letting go. I wouldn't be surprised if I wake up tomorrow and the lower back pain I have had for over a month is all of a sudden starting to feel better. Here is the letter I wrote:

Fuck you! You rapist piece of shit. I said no. I told you to stop. I think about that night, all the time. I replay it over and over in my mind. Sometimes I wonder what I could have done differently. I get angry when I wonder this. I didn't need to do anything different. You did!

You need to not be a rapist! When someone tells you to stop, you need to fucking stop! What? Were you annoyed that you weren't going to get to cum? FUCK YOU! You know what's worse than you not getting to cum?

Having you on top of me, your dick inside me, while you say no, when I asked you to stop. When I tried to get up and you pushed me back down. When I tried to yell NO louder and you put your hand over my mouth to silence me. I bit your hand, did that stop you? No, it didn't. You kept raping me. I withdrew consent and you didn't give a fuck. I was an object for you to use.

Everything started going dark. I remember thinking to myself "I can't believe this is happening." I could hear others in the bathhouse, chatting, having sex. Here I was, being raped, with dance music and sex noises as my soundtrack. I started checking out, going to my safe place, when all of a sudden, I thankfully got angry. I yelled "I fucking said no! Get off me!" I hit you on your side, I pushed back as hard as I could and threw you off me.

You landed on the floor, looking scared and saying "sorry, sorry, I didn't meat to" GUESS WHAT? YOU FUCKING MEANT TO! YOU RAPED ME! How dare you be fucking scared, you piece of shit rapist! I said no, several times. I asked you to stop.

You said no to me. You pushed me down, you covered my mouth. You knew what you were doing. After you left my room, I sat there, naked, alone, scared, crying. I thought "do I report this?" Then I imagined telling a police officer that I voluntarily went to the bathhouse. That I consented to sex with you. That I withdrew consent, but I was worried they would view me as a slut for being at the bathhouse. I worried they wouldn't take me seriously.

I've held this in for the last year. It's been eating away at me. That's on you! You raped me! You made me feel less than, scared, alone, sad, angry. I've felt guilty that you may have done this to others after me. Fuck you! I'm returning that guilt, that anger, that sadness back to you.

It's not my fault. You are responsible for you. I'm not allowing you to control me anymore. I did nothing wrong. It's not my fault.

Choosing Me: A letter to my dad

2018-03-18T20:44:00.001-06:00

Letting go, it's not easy. Moving on, it's not easy. These last few months I've been very depressed. Irritable, angry, sad, empty. In therapy I've been talking about how angry I am with myself. I take everything out on myself. At one point, the emotions got so bad I cut myself. It was really bad this time. I cut the word whore in my left thigh and the word fag into my right thigh. Every time I get in the shower, change my clothes, I can't help but look at the scars on my leg. Every time I look at them I get angry, angry at myself. I feel ashamed for cutting myself. I feel disgusted with myself.

In therapy when we were talking about my negative feelings towards myself, he asked me to close my eyes and think of the first time when I felt less than. Within 30 seconds I thought of being a child. I cried a lot as a child and it made my dad angry. He would tell me "boys don't cry", "man up", "we don't cry." As he said this, there was always this look of disappointment in his eyes. I always felt he was disappointed I was gay. He would make comments about the fags in the pride parade and make jokes about gay people. I was allowing him to make me feel less than.

My therapist proposed an exercise for me, to write a letter to my dad, expressing how I felt. I've done this letter writing before for other people/experiences in my life. I agreed it would be a good thing for me to do... it took me almost 2 months to write it.

It's funny, I thought I had resolved my feelings about my dad. Years ago I went through a four month group therapy program. Twice I told my dad how I felt about certain things. I talked about how he scared me as a child with his drinking and anger. I told him how I felt our relationship is one sided, that it's me always reaching out and when we talk he just spends the whole time complaining about things. I set boundaries for our relationship. I thought I had dealt with it and moved on... boy I was wrong!

As a child I felt alone, unwanted and a burden. I was very lonely as a child. I just wanted to be loved and acknowledged. My dad was an alcoholic and would get angry at lot. I remember my mom and him getting in intense arguments, him punching holes in the wall. Whenever he would get angry, I would think "is today the day he is going to hit me." That's no way for a child to live.

I wrote the letter. It was difficult to write. I realized something as I wrote it. I've never mourned the loss of the life I could have had, that I wanted to have. I've been holding on to how things should have been. I've been directing my anger at myself, not the person who caused it, my dad. I've been treating myself like shit for so long, for too long and I don't want to do it anymore.

I've allowed myself to feel worthless and weak because of what he said and did. I'm angry that I feel a lot of my life has been taken away because he wasn't there for me. He didn't support me in the way I needed. He chose alcohol over me and that wasn't okay. I'm sad I don't have a relationship with him but I realized something important, I can't have his negativity, his anger, in my life. I need to put myself first, I deserve to be put first. I deserve to be loved and respected. I deserve to love myself and respect myself. I deserve kindness.

I can't change the past, I can't forget what happened, but I can acknowledge it, deal with it and use it to move forward in a healthy way.

This was a hard letter to write. It wasn't just a letter to him, it was a letter to myself. I cried writing this letter. I have never cried like this in my life. I cried so hard, so loud, I made noises that sounded like I just had someone important die. In a way I did have someone die, I had to let a part of me go. I had to mourn the loss of my childhood and the person who I thought I should have been. I had snot dripping out my nose, I was drooling and gasping for air. I had years and years of emotions finally being released.

At one point I stopped writing, I threw the letter on the ground and started addressing my dad out loud. At first I could only get out "fuck you, fuck you dad, fuck you! Fuck you!" Through the slobber and snot, I said "you've taken so much away from me, you have made my life so difficult, I'm moving on. Fuck you! I deserve happiness and kindness. I'm moving on!"

I ended the letter with "Goodbye dad, I'm choosing me."

Goodbye doesn't mean I won't speak to him again. It doesn't mean I hate him. I forgive him. I see a fellow human being who has also struggled with life, who doesn't know how to deal with his feelings, his demons. Just because I forgive him, doesn't mean I need him in my life regularly. It doesn't mean I will take on his negativity and his anger. I will put myself first. I will choose me because I am worth it.

Doing The Right Thing Doesn't Always Work

2017-12-02T00:43:00.000-07:00

Happy. Tired. Empty.

Trying. Tired. Empty.

Working out. Tired. Empty.

Socializing. Tired. Empty.

For the last couple of months I have been feeling like shit. Depression has taken a hold of me, inside and out. Whenever I read articles about depression, I always read the comments section. I should know better than to read the comments section of any article, because the ignorant people always make me mad.

When I read the comments sections for depression articles I always see comments like "go for a walk", "just shake it off", "do something that makes you happy", "eat healthy", etc. I have a news flash for those people: IT'S NOT THAT FUCKING EASY!"

I have been doing the right things. I have been working out three times per week, I have been eating healthier, I have been socializing with my friends, I go to therapy once a month and I've talked about how I've been feeling depressed with a friend. Guess what folks? Still depressed! Still feeling tired and empty inside.

Each workout class I go to, I have to fight with myself to go. Everyday I have to fight with myself to eat healthy and not eat fast food three times a day. When I hang out with my friends, I have a good time, my laughter is genuine, but I still feel empty inside.

Sometimes you can do all the right things and it just doesn't work. Sometimes the only thing that works is time!

Having several illnesses takes a lot out of me. Living with HIV, Bipolar Disorder, Asthma and IBS is exhausting. I only have so much energy to expend everyday and I need to get better at managing it. I've done a lot work on myself through therapy and I feel like my brain is reaching a precipice. I can either scale the mountain in front of me or I can turn around and go back to what is comfortable.

One side of my brain is trying to get me to stick with what we have always done, give up. Stay in bed, eat like crap, stay isolated, have a pity party. The other side is seeing light at the end of the tunnel, it recognizes all the hard work we have been doing, is remapping our brain and for it to stick we need to keep moving forward, we need to keep working out, eating healthy, facing our feelings, facing things head on, loving ourself and not giving up.

Bathhouse Rape

2017-09-05T17:00:00.000-06:00

It was a Friday night. I was at home bored and feeling like some sexy good times. I had a shower, got ready and headed to the bathhouse. I was going to get laid! Oh yeah! I arrived at the bathhouse and it wasn't very busy yet, it was still early in the evening. I walked around, smiled at a few guys, went into the steam rooms. As the evening went by I found someone or I thought.

I was laying on my stomach, he laid on top of me and slid his dick inside. He was thrusting and it wasn't feeling good, he was really big. I tried to move to switch positions but he wouldn't move, kept his full weight on me. I really wasn't enjoying it as it was hurting too much and I wanted to stop. I said "I need a break." He mumbled "no" and kept going. I then said "I need to take a break, I need to stop." I tried to get up and he pushed my shoulders down and said "no" and mumbled something in another language.

My adrenaline was kicking in, my heart was racing, I was feeling scared. I said in a more loud stern voice "get off me, I want to stop." I tried to grab him, he grabbed my hand and shoved it back onto the bed." I then said "no! I want to stop." He said "no" and put his hand around my mouth.

I was scared, feeling light headed, I couldn't believe this was happening. I started to feel myself checking out, going to a "safe space." It felt like everything was going dark. Thankfully I was able to get angry once more. I bit his hand and then I yelled "GET OFF ME! I FUCKING SAID NO!" I hit him in his side and thrust back as hard as I could. He went flying off the bed onto the floor. I opened the door and yelled "get the fuck out you piece of shit." He said "sorry, sorry" grabbed his towel and ran out of my room."

I closed the door, sat on the bed and started crying. I felt embarrassed. It makes me angry that I felt embarrassed. I felt embarrassed because I thought "can I get raped at a bathhouse? I came here for sex." I started imagining if I were to tell my friends or the police, would they even think I was raped? I allowed him to have sex with me, I allowed him to put his dick inside me.

But you know what? IT DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER that I was at a bathhouse. It doesn't matter that I originally gave him consent to have sex with me.

WHAT MATTERS is, I withdrew that consent. I said no, many times. I tried to get him off me and he wouldn't get off me. When I withdrew consent he said "no", that was him acknowledging he knew what I was saying, that he chose to use me for his own pleasure despite me saying no.

It wouldn't matter if I had sex with 15 guys that night. I can say no at anytime.

It makes me angry that I felt the need to question myself about whether I was raped or not. Thanks media, thanks rapists, thanks everyone that has treated someone who has been raped as less than.

The other part that makes me angry, while I was repeatedly telling him no, loudly, I could hear guys walking by my room. I find it hard to believe no one heard me, I was not quiet. Not one person stopped to knock on the door and ask if I was okay.

As I opened the door and kicked that rapist piece of shit out of my room, there were guys out there, as I yelled "get the fuck out you piece of shit." No one asked me if I was okay.

Ignorance isn't bliss, ignorance is being complicit.

Dare I Say, Thank You HIV

2017-03-01T23:04:00.000-07:00

A life reborn, finding myself one day at a time.

7 years. 7 years ago today I was diagnosed with HIV. 2555 days with HIV. 61,320 hours with HIV.

I went to the clinic to get my results. I was sure I had HIV. My friend told me I was worrying for nothing. I didn't tell her, I had unprotected sex with an HIV positive guy. A month after having sex with him, I had the worst "flu" of my life. I could barely eat, I had no energy. I lost 20 pounds in under a month. I knew what the results were going to say.

The nurse sat me down and told me "your test came back positive." She gave the speech, "it's not a death sentence, the medications are better now days, blah blah blah." I asked her how many people she has had to tell. She said I was her first. Awe, I popped her HIV diagnosis giving cherry. I told her she was doing a good job. WTF!? Typical me, putting others needs ahead of mine. Easy to do, when you have no self worth. I saw the time and said "crap, my parking time has run out. I need to go put more money in. I'll be back, I swear."

I put more money in and went back to the clinic room. She was surprised I returned. She told me I had an appointment with the infectious disease doctor in a couple of weeks, gave me some pamphlets and asked me if I needed anything. Need anything? Seriously? In 15 minutes you told me I have HIV, you gave me a bunch of pamphlets and now I need to go to work. I don't know what the fuck I need.

I got into my car, I tried to cry, I couldn't. I just started laughing. I drove to work, as I was walking from the parkade to work I texted my friend "I have HIV." She messaged me back saying that's not funny. I told her I wasn't joking. She called me, told me everything was going to be okay and that she was here for me. Maybe a text wasn't the best way to tell someone, oops.

I took a deep breath and walked into work. I knew it was going to be a difficult night. I was working till 2 am, I just received life altering news and my job was to take escalated calls from angry dick heads who didn't get their dipping sauce for their pizza. Fuck!

It didn't take long before I lost my shit on a customer. I had a woman, who had been moving all day, she said she placed an order an hour ago and there was no record of her order. I apologized, offered a discount and to rush the order, that wasn't good enough. She started crying, complaining how she moved all day with two kids and then started yelling at me. I yelled back at her and I heard her phone drop. All of a sudden a man's voice came on the line and in a concerned tone said "um hello?" I flipped out and said "I can't deal with this shit! Good bye!" and hung up on him.

I can laugh about it now. I assume he was her husband. This poor guy is probably thinking, what the hell is going on? My wife is losing it, the pizza guy is losing it, I just want some food.

7 years later. 2555 days later. 61,320 hours later. I've changed jobs a few times, I've gone a few dates, still no relationships. I've gone to group therapy and individual therapy. I've had my struggles and I've had my successes. I've grown as a person. I've set boundaries with my father. I've become closer with my mother. My friends are fucking amazing! I have small group of friends, we've been friends since high school. 17 years of friendship and counting!

Lately I've been depressed. Working has been a big source of that. Every time I feel that I am moving forward with my health, I feel like work takes me 5 steps back. Butt! A big hairy bubble butt! Sorry wrong kind of butt. But! I have to give myself credit. Despite being depressed, I am still trying. I am still trying to eat healthy, I am still trying to make myself see my friends. This past weekend I went to a conference out of town for people living with HIV and AIDS. That was huge for me! I put myself out of my comfort zone and faced my anxiety head on.

Even though I've been depressed it doesn't have as strong of a grip on me and I can thank HIV for that. Contracting HIV was hitting rock bottom for me. Contracting HIV made me realize I needed help. It motivated me to join that group therapy program. It got me diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. It motivated me to start individual therapy with a Psychologist. It motivated me to try new things. Did I mention I started taking singing lessons last year? Something I've always wanted to do, but was to scared to do.

HIV made me realized life is too short and it has allowed me to grow and become a better person. As I write this, tears are running down my face. Some are sad tears, because to be honest obviously I would prefer to not have HIV. BUT another big hairy bubble butt! A lot of them are happy tears, proud tears that I have turned a negative into a positive (I swear no pun was intended!).

Because of HIV, I am becoming a better version of myself.

The Shackles of Anxiety

2016-10-25T23:33:00.000-06:00

I'm driving in my car, thinking to myself "I can do this, I can do this." I round the corner and my heart beats faster every block closer I get to my destination. I attempt to turn into the parking lot, I jerk the steering wheel in the opposite direction and think "park across the street so you can see who is going in."

I'm so nervous. My anxiety is through the roof, my heart beating fast, mouth dry, palms sweaty. Mom's spaghetti? Wait that last part is from a song. Concentrate. It feels like there is a lump in my throat. I think my co-woker said that is called globus. Sounds like a travel agency.

I see a few people go in. I can do this, I can do this. I stare at my runners on the seat, just pick them up, open your door and go into the school. Nope not yet, I got here early for a reason, so I can work up the courage to go in. A couple more minutes pass, it's an all or nothing moment. I grab my shoes, open my car door and cross the street.

I open the school doors and walk down the hallway. My heart beating fast, nauseated, and the globus in my throat. That reminds me, I should plan my next vacation. I round the corner and I see a few guys sitting outside the gym. I try to make eye contact and smile, they look away. I nervously grab my phone and start looking on Facebook.

In my last therapy session we talked about how I need to be physically active. It will help with my joint pain and my mood. I've been wanting to go to recreational volleyball which is run through a local gay and lesbian sports league. Meeting new people isn't easy for me, you know with the anxiety and all. Hard to make conversation when you have a travel agency, I mean globus in your throat.

A few more guys show up and they all know each other. Everyone is laughing and hugging and catching up since the last time. Fuck. This is what I was afraid of. Afraid it was going to be a close knit group and I would have to awkwardly wiggle my way in. I feel like I'm going to have a panic attack and freak out. I try to covertly control my anxiety and tell myself, breathe, breathe. I manage to calm myself down. I tell myself once were in the gym and we get setup and were playing I will be so happy I did this.

The doors open, everyone goes into the gym and starts changing. Okay, so change rooms aren't a thing, nice underwear. I'm awkwardly standing against the wall while everyone is still chatting and having a gay old time. My anxiety is going through the roof again. Two of the guys are setting up the net, people start getting together and practicing. Do I just walk over an join them? I would, but my feet are stuck to the ground. Can globus travel to your feet? Who is running the volleyball? Who do I give my money to? Why are they spiking the ball? I thought this was a recreational league. TOO MUCH!

FUCK THIS! I can't do this. Grab my shoes, stare at the ground and I walk out of there. As I open the gym doors, my lip is quivering, I'm doing everything I can not to cry. My eyes are tearing up, I get out of the school and there are some junior high kids hanging outside of the school. I look to the side, I don't want them to see me, this pathetic old man about to cry. I speed walk to my car, come on globus lets pick up the pace! I get in my car, slam the door shut and start crying. I slam my fist on the steering wheel and yell FUCK! What is wrong with you?!

I'm crying because I feel pathetic, I feel stupid and embarrassed. It's just recreational volleyball, what's the big deal? This shouldn't be so hard. A normal person would of just said "Hi, I'm here for the volleyball, who do I pay my money to?"

But. I have to give myself credit. I drove there. I got out of my car. I went into the school. Hell, I went into the gym. Yes, I left but I made it farther than I thought I would. I tried, I gave it my best. Each attempt is a step in the right direction. Do not give up.

Take that globus, not telling me I can't cancel my flight without penalty. Shit wrong globus.

Tired of Being Tired

2016-10-10T20:45:00.000-06:00

I'm tired. I'm tired of being tired. Tired of fighting. Fighting to live. Fighting to be mentally healthy. Fighting to love myself.

It's too much. I'm exhausted. It's a constant struggle. HIV. Asthma. Arthritis. IBS. Bipolar. Anxiety. Welcome to my pity party, I can cry if I want to. Today I didn't wake up till three pm. That's not true, I was first up around noon and couldn't get out of bed. The safety of my bed had me wrapped tightly in his arms. If I don't leave bed, I don't have to face the struggles of the day. If I allow myself to fall back asleep then I don't have to think about the life I hate. I fell back asleep and woke up around two. I went on my phone trying to distract myself. That didn't work as I saw on twitter it was mental health awareness day and that got me thinking about how I was feeling and relating to what people were posting.

I thought to myself, just get up, go make a coffee, it's simple. But then the evil part of my brain that's busy being depressed said to me "No it's not! Stay in bed. If you make coffee, you have to remove the blanket, get up, put on pants (the pants would only be for my roommates benefit), put on a shirt, put on your slippers, walk to the bedroom door, open the door, walk down the hallway, open another door, walk up the stairs, put the coffee capsule in the machine, lock the lid, press the button, wait for the coffee to fill up, grab coffee cup, go down the stairs, back through the door, back down the hallway, through the bedroom door, sit down, take a sip and ruminate about how shitty life is." So yup, I stayed in bed for another couple hours. My bladder being full finally got me out of bed, which then led me to my couch and watching The Flash.

Work has been super stressful. I've been so stressed my IBS is acting up, my jaw and neck are sore from being tense, I've been having dizzy spells too. The other day at work, I had been go, go, go. I finally realized I hadn't eaten anything five hours into my shift. I went to Harvey's and ate. I got back to work, sat down in my chair and I felt lightheaded which quickly shifted to dizziness and then my eyes got heavy, a wave of blackness went over me and I almost fell face first in the keyboard. Thankfully I didn't faint but that was the closest I ever felt. It was intense. No time for the weak though, I logged into my computer to pump out more work.

Last February I went on short term disability for two and a half months. I was feeling like I do right now. I started seeing a therapist, I still see him every two to three weeks. I feel I didn't give myself enough time to build structure and get myself mentally healthy when I returned to work. I felt guilty that my co-workers had to pick up the slack and felt I needed to show I can do my part and even more now that I was back. My manager is aware I have HIV and Bi-Polar disorder. I've told her one of the main things I need is a consistent schedule. I struggle trying not to sleep too much. My therapist has told me it's important I get up at the same time every day to build that consistency. I find it difficult to do, when my start time isn't the same or is later in the day. My goal is to get up at eight thirty am every day and not hit snooze. This week I am working noon to eight. Since my mood is in the crapper it is very difficult for me to not hit snooze and sleep to the last possible second. If I'm asleep, I don't have to feel.

Recently we lost two supervisors and that meant the supervisors were down two people in their schedule rotation. One of the supervisors expressed concerned that I don't work the same hours as the rest of the team so out of guilt I volunteered to be a part of the rotation temporarily and work a late week every four weeks. That was a mistake. I have fallen back into old habits and my mood keeps getting worse. I feel stupid writing about this. It feels so dumb that this should be such an issue.

Getting up at eight thirty am each day shouldn't be hard, how can it have such an impact on my mental health? But I know it's important and I know it does. I know I need to say I can't work these late weeks anymore. And I also need to say I can't handle the current workload, I need to get my mental health back on track so that I can be a productive employee. Sigh, easier said than done. My arch nemesis anxiety is filling my head with all the irrational things that can go wrong.

I'm tired of being tired. I'm tired of being in pain. I'm tried of struggling. Just so tired.

Stuck in Between - I'm a Large and a Half

2015-01-13T01:10:00.003-07:00

I'm frustrated, I'm angry, I'm sad. I am tired of being rejected. Whether it be trying to meet people for dating or getting laid, I get rejected...all the freaking time! I've been told, "sorry I'm only into white dudes." I understand that people have preferences, but when I look at myself in a mirror and see a white dude looking back, I wonder, what the hell is wrong with you. Then I will hear "sorry I'm only into fit guys" but then the next guy says to me "sorry I only like bigger guys." Is there no in-between category? Is there any in between sized lovers out there? Then I get told "I'm only into young guys" and then I hear "sorry I'm into older guys only." Is there no one that likes a guy in his early 30's? Next

I hear "sorry I'm into masculine guys only" and then I'm told "sorry I'm into a more feminine guy." Should I tell them about the time, when MSN Messenger still existed, that a guy said to me "is that your sister in that picture, she's really pretty." I responded with "that's me." The guy messaged back "oh, well you look nice, oh phone call, gotta go." It's like when I go shopping and try on clothes, a large doesn't fit but an extra large is way too big. I am always stuck in the middle!

When I do finally find a dude that is into a guy that's in-between all the preferences, a guy that is into a large and a half, I then have to tell them about being HIV Positive. So, I have passed the first 20 damn hurdles, received some scrapes and bruises along the way and now it's time for the pole vault and I have to vault over 20 feet to get over the next one.

If one more guy asks me if I am "clean" I am going to lose my shit. I have started responding with "yes I am clean, I have a shower every day and make sure to clean my ass before sex, now if your wondering if I am HIV Positive, the answer is yes. I am on medications and my viral load is undetectable, if you are unsure what that means, please feel free to ask questions. All I ask, is you stop asking if someone is "clean", just because I have HIV, it doesn't make me dirty."

I feel my response works two-fold, one I get to provide the sarcastic response which satisfies my bitterness and immaturity, but then I also try to educate them. I understand I am probably negating the education part by having the sarcastic response, but frankly I don't care it feels good, ha! I sometimes mention to them, that being with a guy who is honest and open about being HIV Positive and is on medications and their viral load is undetectable and you use a condom, you are going to be just safe or even safer. With someone who says they are HIV Negative, unless they are providing you a very recent copy of their test results and you can verify their id against the information on the test results, you have no way of knowing if they are telling the truth. Sadly, most of the time, they respond with sorry I just can't do it with a Poz guy.

I recently downloaded Tinder, big mistake. I quickly deleted it after a guy messaged me and said "you should be like that Subway guy Jared and eat at Subway so you can lose weight." I was on Match.com for a while and had no success. I don't know where to meet people, it is very frustrating. At this point, I have been kicked so many times, that I am starting to give up. Just resigning myself to the fact that I probably won't ever be in a romantic relationship or even get laid. Fuck.

New blog post, new job, new medication

2015-01-05T23:33:00.001-07:00

Eek ack wowza! It has been a year and half since I have written a blog post, way too long! This past July I was laid off, it was actually a good thing. I was hating my job and hating my manager, it was hard not to walk out with a smile. I started a new job in September, I am a Team Supervisor in a call centre. I have a lot of a call centre experience and managing/mentoring people is something I have wanted to do and have indirectly done in my past roles. In the four months I have been at the new job, it has been intense. A lot of things are broken, including staff from past poor management. There is a lot to fix and some days it has been overwhelming, but change is happening, slowly, but it is happening. We have a new Manager starting and I know her from one of my previous jobs and from what I remember she was amazing, so hopefully she still is!

Another big change is, I finally got in to see a Psychiatrist this past September. My doctor had referred me back in March 2014 and he finally followed up and they didn't get the original referral, so that is why it took so long to get in; better late than never. The Psychiatrist is the cutest little old man I have ever seen. He is shorter than me, I am 5 Feet 6 Inches, he wears these old style suits with a bow tie, I swear he must be in his 80's. I want to put him in my pocket. He had me fill out a bi-polar screening test, I selected yes to everything. He looked at it and said, you should not have been on Zoloft at all. I said that makes sense, a week before my episode back in February, my Zoloft dose was increased. He said that would do it.

He prescribed me 600 mg of lithium. I started taking it right away and had my blood taken a week later. I had my follow up appointment with him and he asked me how I was feeling. I told him I had never felt better. For over two years I had been going to my family doctor repeatedly complaining of severe fatigue. All I did was sleep, sleep and more sleep. I went from seeing my friends multiple times in a week, to once a week on the weekend. As soon as I started taking Lithium my energy levels were fixed, I told him I didn't nap once this past week. He was happy for me and also surprised that I was noticing a change so quickly.

He upped my dose to 900 mg a day to get the blood levels up to the therapeutic range. The next follow up appointment he said that my blood levels were in the therapeutic range and that we would stick with the 900 mg dose. He asked me if I was still feeling good and I said that I was. I let him know that my roommate, who is also one of my best friends, said she had noticed changes in me. My friend noticed that I was coming out of my room a lot more, I was more social with her and her husband. She also said that I was posting on Facebook much more and that it was quite funny, he gave me a weird look when I told him this. He was probably thinking what's a Facebook.

I went to my pharmacy to fill the prescription and the Pharmacist asked how the medication was going. I said really well, that I hadn't felt this energetic in such a long time. She looked at me concerned, and then I realized and said oh I mean normal amounts of energy, not too much energy haha. She laughed and said oh good, and she was really happy that the medication was working so well for me. I love my pharmacy, everyone who works there knows my name, they are always so friendly and genuinely care.

It has been a frustrating few years of trying different anti-depressants and having various doctors not take me seriously because I don't fit the DSM Manual criteria perfectly or because I am so self aware. Fingers crossed the Lithium continues to work for me, and a big hallelujah for finally getting to see a doctor who got me onto the correct medication.

Let's Take the Time to Educate

2013-06-24T21:17:00.000-06:00

I just read the article "Transgendered Artist Arrested for Baring Breasts on Plane" http://www.thestar.com/news/gta/2013/06/24/transgender_artist_arrested_for_baring_breasts_on_plane.html

It frustrated me to read it. Two Transgendered women on a plane didn't like that a flight attendant said "You guy's have to teach us how to do our makeup, you know because you used to be guys right?" Nina Arsenault said they were provoked by the inappropriate questions.

Were the questions inappropriate? Absolutely. Was the best response to those questions to take off her top and strut down the aisle to purposely shock the fellow passengers and flight attendants? No I don't believe it was. The only purpose of that was shock value. It didn't teach anyone on that plane anything. If anything, those flight attendants that asked those questions, were probably put off and embarrassed and maybe afraid to interact with a transgendered person in the future. This action they took just further secluded themselves.

It would have been nice to read that they took the opportunity to educate the flight attendants. To tell them why it was inappropriate to ask those questions and phrase it in that manner. It would have been nice for them to encourage the flight attendants to do some research on the issues transgendered persons face everyday. But instead they chose to use shock value which takes away from their cause and makes it appear that they only did it to bring some attention to the fact they are artists. I'm not saying they have to be advocates. If they don't feel the need to be advocates for the cause that's fine, they could have simply said the questions you are asking are inappropriate and left it at that. If the flight attendants persisted they could have asked to speak to a manager when they got off the plane.

If someone said something inappropriate to me about being HIV Positive, such as "your dirty" I wouldn't strip naked and start rubbing myself with soap to prove I am clean. I would take the opportunity to educate in hopes of reducing the stigma around being HIV Positive. I hope people don't applaud these women for what they did, what they did was not positive.

Underwear Addiction

2013-04-14T20:10:00.000-06:00

I have an underwear addiction. Seriously! I was hanging out with my friends last night and I mentioned that I had gone to the mall earlier in the day. They asked me what I got, and I said oh just some underwear. They started laughing and said you always buy underwear, how many pairs do you think you have. I said oh I don't lots.

Well today, I was cleaning my room and decided to find out how many pairs I actually have. Are you ready for the number? Drum roll please.......... I have 197 pairs of underwear. 197!!!! So I laid them all out on my bed and took a picture. Then I stacked them and took a picture. I will attach the pictures to show you my crazy underwear addiction.

I even counted how many of each kind I have. The breakdown as follows:

97 Boxer Briefs

68 Briefs

16 Jockstraps

14 Thongs

2 Regular Boxers

I imagine how much money I have spent on underwear, OMG! Lot's of them I bought on sale though, that makes it alright, right? RIGHT? Haha

The funny part is, it bothers me that its 197, I feel the urge to go out and buy three more pairs to make it an even 200. Hahaha.

Wait till I am in California at the end of the month, I am sure I will have more to add to the collection, tee hee.

I Can Breathe!

2013-03-30T16:56:00.001-06:00

I finally went back to the gym today, I haven't been to the gym since early last year. It went really well. Last December I was diagnosed with severe Asthma. I made sure to take my inhaler before going to the gym. OMG! This is what it feels like to breathe normally while working out. I have always found working out difficult because I would become short of breath easily. I always thought that was normal, just how I was. But obviously it wasn't. I was on the treadmill for forty five minutes and didn't feel like dying. I also did weights as well.

I've also started going to Yoga. It's called gayish yoga, it's geared towards the gay community but anyone is welcome. The first two times I went I didn't take my inhaler - big mistake. I felt like death by the end of it. The yoga class is an hour and half long. My friend looked over at me and said "umm your quite pale." The third time I went I remembered to take my inhaler before hand, and my breathing was spectacular, it was beautiful. I ended the class tired but a good tired not a I am going to pass out because I can't breathe tired.

I remember when I used to run cross-country in junior high and high school, I was good at it but always at the end I would have troubles breathing. It amazes me I never had a severe asthma attack...thankfully!

Yay for normal breathing! Woot woot!

Massage & HIV

2013-03-02T16:52:00.000-07:00

About a month ago I started going to a Massage Therapist. I am constantly having back pain and thought I would give it a try. I've gone to a Massage Therapist a couple of times in the past, it was good and relaxing but wasn't great. I decided to give it a try again. I found the best Massage Therapist ever. He really gets into the muscles, I love it. It is the best massage I have ever had. I like that he uses his arm and slowly goes over the muscle. It feels so great and really loosens everything up.

There is another reason I like him. He has been great with the fact that I am HIV positive. When I went there for the first time, I filled out the usual forms. It has a list of conditions to check off, such as being HIV Positive. At first I wasn't going to check off the box for being HIV positive. I thought what's the point? There is no risk of him contracting HIV from me during the massage. But then I thought why am I trying to hide it? I really don't care if he knows I have HIV. So I checked off the box.

We went into the room and he said I noticed you checked off the HIV box. I have never had a client with HIV before. I thought to myself, not that you knew about. I also thought great, is he going to have a problem with this. He then said, are you on medications? I said yes I am. I thought to myself, is he seriously worried about contracting HIV. The next thing he said was, do your medications cause any issues, such as skin or muscle issues, I ask because I want to make sure I don't apply to much pressure if your medications cause any issues. I hope it's okay that I asked.

I felt like an ass. I made an assumption and I was wrong. What a great guy, making sure he is educating himself so he can make sure he gives me the best massage therapy possible. I told him that the medications don't cause any issues like that and that he didn't have to modify how he performed the massage therapy. I thanked him for asking and told him to feel free to ask me any questions about HIV.

The second time I went in for a massage, he took the opportunity to ask me some questions. He asked about how HIV can be transmitted and we talked about me having to contact previous partners. I told him that the nurse actually does that for you and does it confidentially. He said that is great, as you wouldn't want to have to worry about that, as you are trying to deal with the diagnosis itself.

Not only does he give an amazing massage, he was great about asking questions about HIV. He again asked if it was okay to ask me questions, I said definitely, as it helps reduce the stigma. Best massage therapist ever!

Road Rage...I Blew Him a Kiss

2013-02-13T13:53:00.000-07:00

I was driving home from work today and the snow is blowing all over the place. There was a guy riding my ass, obviously he felt I wasn't going fast enough. He pulled up beside me and stared me down, so I gave him the finger. He was a very heavy set guy, probably in his forties. He was a few feet ahead of me, in the lane next to me, all of a sudden he let go of the steering wheel, put his arms over his head and started pounding his fist into his hand. It looked so stupid I started laughing uncontrollably. He was not happy about this. He started tapping his breaks to intimidate me, which didn't work since he wasn't even in the same lane as me. I just kept laughing. He moved into the left turning lane and was slowing down so I caught up to him. When I was across from his started shaking his fists so I blew him a kiss. The look on his face was priceless.

I used to have issues with road rage. Before I went through the group therapy program, I held in all my anger. Eventually I would get so full of anger it would spill out in unhealthy ways, such as road rage. I remember one time, I was driving down the freeway and there was a truck full of young guys. They were in the same lane as me and all of a sudden went across three lanes of traffic, cutting off a few vehicles. I shook my head in disbelief, well they saw that and didn't like that so they cut back over through the three lanes of traffic, got in front of me and slammed on their brakes and then tried to take off. My anger over took me and I sped off after them. Weaving in and out of traffic trying to chase them down. I eventually realized how stupid I was being and backed off and let them get out of sight. What was I really going to do? Get out of my car and fight them? No way in hell, I wouldn't have a chance.

Thankfully I haven't lost my cool in quite a long time. Now I just laugh and blow kisses.

Label Me Please

2013-01-22T13:43:00.000-07:00

I'm cranky today. I'm sad, I'm angry. I woke up today and hate the world. I didn't want to get out of bed. I pressed snooze, over and over and over again. I finally rolled out of bed and dragged my ass to the shower. I got in my car and drove to Tim Hortons, I got myself an iced cappuccino and breakfast sandwich, hoping it would make me feel better, it didn't.

I arrived at work and was not motivated to work at all. I spun around in my chair a few times, I stared at the wall, went to the washroom even though I really didn't need to go. My co-worker and I went on a Tim Hortons run for everyone, at least I wasn't the only one not in the mood to work. Finally noon arrived and I got to go home - I am still only working half days due to my medical leave.

I'm feeling shitty and hating life, so what do I do, I go to the food court at the mall. I go back to one of my bad behaviours and get greasy bad food. This time I select Chinese food, I haven't had Chinese food in a long time. I take it to go and head home. I go to my room, throw on a Criminal Minds dvd and eat my Chinese food in my bed. Was the Chinese Food worth it? Yes and no. Yes because it was damn tasty. No because it made me feel all gross and made me feel bad about myself.

I hate these ups and downs I have. Yesterday I was in a great mood. I got home from work and decided I was going to cook. I made myself a bacon carbonara pasta and home made garlic bread. It was super tasty and I was impressed at how well it turned out. I don't normally cook. I was so jolly yesterday and now today I feel miserable. How the hell does it turn off and on that quickly? I hate it!

There have been so many times I've been convinced I have Bipolar Disorder. When I went for an assessment at the Psychiatry clinic to get into the group therapy program, the Psychiatrist quickly dismissed the idea of me being Bipolar. She asked me if I go days on end with no sleep. I said no and she quickly replied with, well then your not bipolar. I was angry. I felt like she quickly dismissed me and what I was feeling and had to say. I shut down and I immediately hated her. Just a minute before I really liked her and thought she was awesome. Looking back that was obviously my Borderline Personality Disorder kicking in.

I've been thinking about why I am so desperate to be labelled as Bipolar. I have enough labels already, don't I? I'm HIV positive. I'm a gay man. I have Major Depression. I have Borderline Personality Disorder. Why then do I want to be labelled as Bipolar? Because I want to be fixed. I want someone to give me some pills and say, take these you will be fixed. You will be normal - another label. I know in reality that's not true. I know with Bipolar disorder, trying to find the right combination of medications is difficult and involves a lot of trial and error. And even though you are on medications it doesn't mean they will always work.

I guess I am just frustrated that my depression is kicking in today. I am frustrated that I went through four months of group therapy and I am not normal. I need to remind myself what one of the therapists said. He said "your not going to change overnight, it's going to take practice. You are trying to change decades worth of behaviours, you need to take baby steps." He's right I need to take one step at a time, and realize setbacks will happen.

I had a date

2013-01-20T16:52:00.000-07:00

I had a date last weekend. I was extremely nervous. I haven't been on a date in a long time. A couple of years actually. The last time I was on a date was a few months after I was diagnosed with HIV. I joined a dating website for people living with HIV. We hung out a few times but it didn't go anywhere, mainly because he was a jackass haha. He would always make plans and cancel them. I finally had enough and told him so.

This guy isn't HIV positive, that I am aware of. We started chatting on a regular dating website. We met for coffee. I think going for coffee for a first date is a good idea. It's nice and casual, no pressure. The date went well, we were there for two hours and had good conversation. I didn't really find him attractive, not my type. I decided it's only the first date and I'm really nervous so I won't make any snap judgements.

One of the things I worried about is, having to disclose that I am HIV positive. If we hit it off and go on more dates at what point do I tell him? Do I wait until we've gone a few dates. Who knows what the answer is.

We went on a second date, we went for dinner. Conversation was a lot more awkward this time. A few silent moments. We were struggling to find things to talk about. Again I found myself not attracted to him. Not even a tingle in my bits going on. I realized I was trying to force myself to be attracted to him. I don't have much dating experience and have had a lot of issues in the past. I really wanted this to work out. I had to take a step back and realize, I'm only thirty. I don't have to settle, I have lot's of time to meet the right guy. This is a huge change for me. If this was before going through the group therapy program, I would have kept going out on dates even though I didn't want to.

At least I didn't have to disclose about the HIV, phew! But I will have to cross that bridge eventually. Hopefully I will figure out how to do it, when the time comes.

I'm a flavour whore!

2013-01-09T14:58:00.000-07:00

I feel tired and depressed today. It's all my fault really. I was hanging out with friends last night and we were drinking. Usually if I only have two to three drinks I am fine, but any more than that, I usually end up feeling depressed the next day. I'm not surprised, it's commonly known that alcohol acts a depressant. Probably not the best thing for me to be drinking since I have had bouts of major depression. I just can't help it though, I love the taste of red wine. Mmmmm so delicious. Probably didn't help that I had two beers and a tequila sunrise on top of that, oops. I am such a flavour whore - I love tasty stuff. The neurons in my brain get going, and they chant "give me more!" Give me more!"

If I stick to wine then I am usually fine the next day, I don't usually feel depressed. It's funny how alcohol can effect people differently. Because I was feeling down today, what did I do? I went and got fast food. At first I was ready to beat myself up for eating the fast food. The last two days I had been eating healthy and exercising. But I didn't beat myself up. I gave myself a pat on the back. Prior to this week I was eating fast food, everyday, sometimes twice a day. I just went the last two days without any fast food - that is awesome for me. So I had fast food today, oh well, life goes on. And to be honest, I enjoyed every freaking bite of it. It was damn delicious I tell you! I also know from experience, that if I try to go cold turkey cutting out the fast food, I fail miserably... every time! Like I said in my New Year's resolutions post, I will not overdo it, I will take it slowly. If I can go eating fast food every couple of days, for the next couple of weeks, that's a huge achievement for me. Then maybe I can go three days without eating it. One step at a time.

HIV and Mental Health

2013-01-06T20:36:00.001-07:00

Whenever I see campaigns for HIV/AIDS awareness, whether it be on television or online it never seems to focus on mental health. It mainly focuses on prevention and treatment of HIV/AIDS. Don't get me wrong, it is extremely important that we educate about HIV prevention and treatment, but it seems a lot of times those messages are going unheard. Or ads using scare tactics by showing how sick HIV can make someone. How can someone focus on prevention and treatment for themselves if they don't have sound mental health? If they have any issues with self worth and loving oneself, then why would they care about prevention and treatment?

I'm biased on this issue, as poor mental health played a huge role in why I contracted HIV. I recently went through a four month group therapy program, it did wonders for me. For me I had a shaky childhood. When I was seven my drunk neighbour physically assaulted me, because I locked him out of his house when we were having a water fight. When I was around seven or eight I woke up to my Mom and Dad fighting. My Dad was drunk - as per usual - and was yelling he was going to kill himself. My Mom yelled to my sister to hide the knives, my Dad grabbed his shotgun and threatened to shoot himself. My sister called the police, and the SWAT team showed up. Not a very nice experience for a seven year old. After my Mom left my Dad she was very depressed. She dealt with it by ordering us fast food all the time and working from five a.m to eight at night. She would watch t.v and then go right to bed. She was miserable. My sister dealt with it by getting involved with the wrong crowd of people, she got involved in crime. There's nothing like having to visit your sister in the young offenders centre. My brother dealt with it by getting a job and moving out. I was all alone, I basically had to raise myself. I had no one to teach me how to cook, how to deal with my feelings, how to live a healthy life. I had no one to go to when I was being bullied at school. I was alone. When I was twelve, I was in a washroom in a mall and was raped by a man in the bathroom stall. I didn't have anyone to tell, I ended up becoming very sexual and put myself in dangerous sexual situations after that, all the time. I felt that it was my fault that I was raped and hated myself for it.

This set the stage for my adolescence and adulthood. I am a true believer, that our childhood, our environment and experiences shape us an adult. Whenever I was feeling bad about myself, I would turn to sex to get rid of those feelings. If I was feeling unwanted and lonely, I would turn to sex to feel wanted. This all started after I was raped at the age of twelve. This followed me into adulthood. I wrote in a previous post, that the effect of having sex to cover my feelings would start to wear off. So I went from just having oral sex, to anal sex with condoms, then having sex with multiple men in a night, to having sex with no condoms and so on. Trying to chase that illusive high to get rid of those feelings I had. In the end I was punishing myself. It's no surprise to me that I contracted HIV. I had no self worth, I didn't know how to love myself.

I truly believe if people valued themselves, if they had self worth, there would be way less HIV infections. When we know that having unprotected sex can lead to contracting HIV, and there are so many people engaging in unprotected sex, can you say that they truly love themselves? Can you say that they have a high sense of self worth? I doubt it. If someone is perfectly mentally healthy, they love oneself, they value themselves, then wouldn't instinct kick in? Wouldn't a persons need for self preservation stop one self from engaging in such a risky behaviour. A behaviour that could potentially kill oneself. I am constantly working on changing my negative behaviours. I am not perfect. Sometimes I slip up. Sometimes I feel down and have turned to sex or food to get rid of those feelings. But the difference is, that is happening less frequently. One of the important things I learned was that, I am going to make mistakes, I will slip up and that's okay. I am trying to change decades worth of behaviour. That won't happen over night.

I don't write this to say that we need to divert all our attention to mental health issues, in particular mental health and HIV. I write this in the hopes of starting a discussion. Mental Health is just one of the many issues involved with HIV. Hopefully one day soon we can get ahold of this disease, hopefully we can beat this disease. Until then, let's help each other out, share our experiences, and do the best we can. Let's learn to love ourselves.

It's 2013...ACK!

2013-01-03T15:30:00.000-07:00

I can't believe it is 2013. It's true, every year you get older, every year goes by faster and faster. It's like the Japanese Bullet Train, I swear last year went by at 300 km/hr. At the same time though, there were times it felt very very long, as long as the Nile river.

I've been through a lot in the past year. I went through a bout of major depression. It was so bad I was off of work for three months. I slept most of those three months. I ended up getting into a group therapy program to deal with my issues and depression. The therapy program was four months long. Just like this past year, the therapy went by fast and slow at the same time. It was one of the best things I have ever done, but also one of the hardest. There were a lot of tears and a lot of anger. A lot of uncomfortable, awkward moments. I told my Sister, Brother, Mom and Dad that I'm HIV positive. I went back to work, working part time. It's been an eventful, arduous year.

I have never been one to make New Year's Resolutions, but this year I decided I will. I was on UKPositiveLad's blog (http://www.ukpositivelad.com/blog/) and he inspired me to do some resolutions. I deserve to have a great year after everything I have been through. A great year isn't going to happen by sitting back. I need goals and need to proactively try and reach those goals. My New Year's Resolutions:

1) Be Physically Healthier:

This doesn't mean going on crash diets. This means eating healthier and finding activities I enjoy doing, instead of forcing myself to go to the gym. Currently I drink way to much Pop - I LOVE PEPSI!!!!! - and eat way too much fast food. Also these last few months, I haven't been active because I had undiagnosed Asthma. My Asthma was so bad it was making me sleep all the time and always short of breath. Now that I know I have Asthma and I am on an inhaler and I am slowly starting to feel better, it's time to get back in to being active. I also pledge to become active in a healthy way. What I mean by that is, not to overdo it. I am the type of person that goes big or goes home. I tend to overdo it. I go gung-ho and then get burnt out and go back to my old ways.

2) Be Mentally Healthier:

I've already started achieving this by going through that four month group therapy program last year. This year I would like to work on more positive thinking and expressing my feelings more. I am the type of person that holds everything in and then I end up taking it out on myself. If I am feeling angry or sad I am going to say so. If something is bothering me, I am going to let it out - in a healthy way.

3) Discover More About Myself:

I've spent so much of my life with no self worth, that I have never been comfortable with who am I. How can I be comfortable with who I am, when I don't know who I am in the first place? And how can I discover who I am, when I had no self worth? Thanks to the group therapy, I dealt with the issue of having no self worth. I'm not perfect, I still have my days where my lack of self-worth creeps in, but I also bounce back from it a lot quicker. I've always wanted to take singing and acting lessons, so I am going to look into that. I've also been teaching myself to draw and realized I'm not half bad, and would love to take some drawing lessons. (I will post a picture I drew of Daryl from The Walking Dead)

I am going to stop at three New Year's Resolutions, that way I can stay inline with not over doing it. I think three is a great start. I am excited for this year. I am a confident man and I am excited to find out more about myself!