For months I have been putting a lot of hope and faith into joining a support group to deal with the issues concerning my health and emotional spirit.
Positive Care II: Living with HIVThere it is. My support group as explained by the advertisement on the website. I am HIV positive and I am living with it! To even type that stirs my soul and gives me reason to pause. I get frazzled when the idea enters my mind uninvited.
A group for men living long term with HIV to provide emotional support to maintain and promote health and happiness. This group provides a space to discuss concerns around self-esteem, isolation, safer sex, stigma, etc. Open to gay and bisexual men and men of trans-experience.
Mondays 7:30-9 pm—Jan 12 to Apr 6 (no mtgs on Jan 19 or Feb 16).
Intake required. Please call to schedule. Free.
To partake in this group is a huge step for me. It was agreeing to meet weekly for three months and to address the issue of my HIV status with a group of other men. I ask you for a moment to sit and seriously think about that. What implications this holds on one's mind, body and spirit. Please. That's all I'm asking before I go on. Thank you for indulging me.
There was the intake session. Which is required for this group. It was meeting with this Counselor, Bonnie, that life got a little more real. I was open and honest with her. I named all the drugs I have issues with. All the thoughts that can go on my head in one day. I was being honest with myself. The old memories you have to disturb by just saying the word, "Crystal." Leaving that room left me shaken and vulnerable.
Then you realize the lack of vocabulary you have to articulate ideas about yourself. "Can you describe these thoughts? When you have them and how often?" I am sorry, but I don't see time the same way you do. Years and days have begun to flow into one another. What was once a thought I had for a day. Has suddenly been reoccurring for over a decade. I didn't notice it happening, yet there is the proof.
Also, give me a call next time you have to call up your doctor and ask him for the written paperwork declaring that you're HIV positive. I'll then be able to articulate the weirdness of the whole situation. Do I have to sound excited when I ask for them? Or do I sound matter-of-factly? Or when the front desk receptionist gives you an odd look as if no one with a disease has walked up to that desk before. Then when you tell her what you're seeking her tonal inflection changes just a little. As if apologizing to hear your news. If only you knew I was going to make copies and throw them off the Empire State Building.
* * *
Tonight. The first night of meetings and I arrived early. The train ride was a struggle in both the ride and in my head. I was not sure if this could be for me. Support groups can be so misleading. What if I am the only young guy here? What do I have to complain about? Some guy left you a month after you found out. I've abused drugs? Was that all that bad? Or perhaps these guys all got it from their partners. They may sound like simple fears, but they can make a forty minute train ride take forever.
Now I stood before the Welcome Center Desk and looked at the list of rooms and which groups were meeting where. My heart began to quicken at that moment, my mind was also listening to one of the attendant's talking to another older man who walked in. He was explaining, "I don't know about a group meeting afterward. There was the Positive Care I group that met from 6 to 7:30 PM. Nothing afterwards though . . ."
I quickly looked at the list and told myself that it wasn't my group too! I did not make this trip for nothing! I scanned the names and couldn't find the group. I took out my iPhone out and quickly went to the LGBT Center website to find the group. I then went up the volunteer attendant and showed her my phone. "I'm looking for this group."
She read the phone and called a number, screamed to someone across the room and said a little prayer before looking me in the eyes. There was that weight again, I felt the tears sneaking up. Now I needed to be careful in what I said or I may lose it.
"Why don't you go up to the group that meets before this group. Positive Care I, it's just getting out. Ask the coordinator there!" I still wonder if it hurts less to tire the victim down before giving the final blow?
As I walked up the stairs to the room, the group before was getting out. I had a feeling that even if my group was canceled I could possibly get into this group. Yet, as more people passed and I saw how crowded the group already was. My hopes dimmed a little more and my eyes felt heavy again.
I started into the eyes of a man I could tell was the coordinator of the group. I dared not speak for fear I already knew the answer I was going to receive. We stared at each other for a good 30 seconds before he finally broke and asked what I was looking for.
"I was told to ask you about a second group meeting here from 7:30 to 9?"
"No."
"Excuse me? It's listed on the website and I went to an inta--"
"I was not informed there was a second group meeting here tonight."
"Who would know?"
"Ada."
"Who?"
"Ada. In the CARE Center. Go ask her."
I ran down the hall, paying close attention to my eyes and how they looked. I was now getting frustrated and being sent on a chase that would not end happily. I got to the CARE Center and rang the doorbell. No one answered. I returned to the Welcome Center Desk. I approached the man who I had spoken to less than five minutes ago.
"I asked the man about the group." He gave me a blank stare. "About the Positive Care II group." Suddenly it all registered. "He told me to ask Ada. In the CARE Center. What time is that open?"
"10 AM to 6PM."
"So there's no one else here who can possibly know what's going on? If the group is happening?"
"No. Ada will know. She's gone home though. It's after 6 PM."
I turned away quickly and walked out the door. The cold air and the weight of my eyes caused a reaction that I hated, but was necessary. I wept openly as I walked down the street. The cold made it impossible for my eyes to not water, and the weight of the tears caused it to flow freely.
The crying felt so excessive. I will cry tomorrow after they tell me it's been canceled, I don't need to cry now! It was the irony of it all, the literal symbolism that made me weep. Partially out of hilarity as USUAL! I went to seek support and I found there was none to give. How can you not feel sad after discovering that. Yet it existed. There was another man who showed up. He and I. We wanted to learn about living with HIV from others at the allotted time of 7:30PM to 9PM!
Here I was, walking to the subway and balling my eyes out. I put on David Bowie and a song called Sorrows came on. It was over before it began.
I am not defeated. I know I'm not. I'm upset that this is the entry into what I hoped would be a positive experience. The theme of 2009 seems to be if you are nervous about something then life with throw a curve ball. At the end of the night it's just another night. I've gotten to this moment without a support group, so continuing another week or so won't destroy me.
If tomorrow they tell me that I missed my chance or something along those lines. I will tell them we need to discuss private therapy. Which I'm lead to believe can be given to me for free. It will work out.
I allowed my moment to cry. To burst into tears. How can all that build up not lead to tears?
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