I always found it such a huge and funny coincidence that the acronym for Back In The Closet was just one letter shy of BITCH. So what was the H supposed to stand for?
Horse? Neigh. Hunk? Sus.
Hung? Shhh! Heart? Aww.
Hoe? Derogatory? Not at all. Bad for my reputation? Hmm. Teka, what reputation?! Hoe? Hoe... HOE!!! And so B.I.T.C.H. was born.
All along, it's been a case of no-better-choice. But browsing through www.t-shirthumor.com and its hilarious designs, a moment of brilliance came. Was this God's sign that it was truly meant to be?
and then this was the sign... O.M.G.... yep, Big Guy, I hear ya... BITCH it is.
Serendipity, man... serendipity.
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Showing posts with label God. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Serendipity
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
First Hello, Last Goodbye
On most Sundays, I’d just stay home and rest. But this particular one had me anxious. The kind of anxiety that only unconsciousness could stop.
But... I was on a mission.
I was to meet a fellow pozzie for the first time. Not the kind of eyeball you would expect. I would be meeting him... at his own wake.
I’ve been chatting with an old friend abroad, and someone to whom I had disclosed my HIV status. I just really trusted this guy enough to tell the truth when he asked how I was doing, but was relieved as well to know that he and his partner had been getting tested as well. Negative, thankfully. Yep, I had had sexual contact with them both when they were still in the country years and years and years ago.
It was late April that he asked for advice, saying a friend of his had a CD4 count of less than 100, but whose HIV test result had not been released yet. A CD4 count of less than 100? I remember thinking, AIDS?! At first I found it odd that his CD4 got measured before an HIV screening, but apparently a low CD4 count can also happen in cases of autoimmune diseases like lupus and in organ transplantees.
So at the time, it wasn’t confirmed just yet, but I gave him all the information needed in case some bad news came in. But sadly, shortly after, it did. In May, his friend had been hospitalized with a number of infections like meningitis and tuberculosis, just some of what are known to be opportunistic infections.
Though I didn’t know him personally, I had been able to text the guy to introduce myself, in case he needed to talk with someone in the same situation. I had also been able to get in touch with his sibling who was taking care of him, sharing my own story of living with HIV. I reassured her that people with HIV have been known to recover from such infections. But alas, last week, I received the news that he had passed away. He was, like me, just in his 30s.
So Sunday, I dropped by his wake. I was anxious because I’ve never been comfortable being at wakes, in addition to this one being that of someone I really did not know personally and one that I was going alone to. I know, paranoia again. But I was hell bent on meeting his siblings, as well as representing his friend who could not be there.
Getting there, the sibling I was in touch with was not around. I introduced myself and chatted a bit with the dad. He expressed how happy his son would be to know that his friend sent a representative, and it was really touching for him to acknowledge that. He told me about how his healthy and athletic his son was, and how unlikely his demise had been.
I was not rambling about anything HIV just yet, as I didn’t really know who knew what. I waited quietly for the sibling I had been in touch with to arrive. The ambience was light, apparently upon request of the deceased. After about half an hour, I finally shook the hand of the person I was waiting for.
Apparently the immediate family knew the truth about the condition, but as to who understood, the only ones I am sure who did so were his siblings. We talked in lowered voices amidst the other guests and relatives, but I was pleased that the siblings were really opening up about the situation. They were open-minded and it was evident that HIV was not an issue for them in their brother’s death. I never heard any judgment.
As I understood from his sibling, this guy may have already had an inkling up to a year ago that he had it, but didn’t take action. As such, he may have found out too late. It still scares me a bit to realize it was just a month since confirming he was HIV-positive that they lost their brother. But the battle is far from over. The virus hasn’t won.
As I shared with them my own story, which is nothing compared to what their brother went through, they shared with me that they realized how much more advocacy is needed for the issue of HIV. And that was one thing that they, as well as some friends, were willing to be part of. It’s ironic that this person’s fight against the enemy will probably be more vigilant after his death.
After staying for about three hours, I mustered up the courage to leave. It was raining hard outside, which just helped set the mood to get my mind to process all the information for the day.
If it indeed was true that this person may have known that he possibly had it up to a year ago, I think the lesson to learn here is that there are certain attitudes to dealing successfully with HIV. You may be athletic, strong and healthy, but your body can only take so much. You either eat your humble pie and get the help that you need, or you continue to act like a superhero and beat the hell outta the virus. Either way, you gotta acknowledge that there is an adversary. It’s when you take the deadma approach that this virus can really get the upper hand.
So there, I didn’t know how much I can say without endangering the privacy of the family, so thanks for bearing with my lack of details as I tried to tell my story. I was his last eyeball. Our first hello was also our last goodbye. Condolences to his family, and may he rest in peace.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Please Say A Prayer
Guys and gals, I just received word that we just lost one of our kind. After suffering from multiple infections, a pusit just bit the dust. But of course, he is not just a pusit. He is someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s friend, someone’s lover. May God bless his soul.
I hope to be able to get in touch with the family soon. Although we do not know him personally, please take a moment to say a little prayer for him. Thank you. Updates later.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
I'm Not A Superhero
I’m not fast like The Flash. I’m not strong like The Incredible Hulk. I’m not a web-swinger like Spiderman. I don’t have x-ray vision like Superman. I can’t communicate with animals, like Dr. Doolittle. I’m not even as hung as Jeff Stryker.
I’m not a superhero. But these past few weeks, everyone has been expecting me to be one.
At work, I’ve been denying the fact that I’ve managed to shoulder the work being done by at least four different people who’ve left the company. And this past week, I’ve been receiving feelers to take on even more work. They’re actually trying to flatter me into thinking that I’m being developed for bigger things, but flattery will get you nowhere. I’d appreciate some help, for crying out loud! Multi-tasking is one thing, but overloading is a whole different situation. It’s not even funny!
Some emo friends have been making contact as well, asking for some advice regarding their respective relationship problems. I don’t know when exactly I became the expert on love, nor do I know why I was made mature enough to handle situations such as theirs. I know I’ve been gifted by the heavens with this “talent”, but sometimes, I just don’t want to hear things. I don’t want my solitude-slash-loneliness being rubbed in my face. I just want to tell them to be thankful they actually have relationships to be problematic about, when I on the other hand, have nothing.
This thing with Baby Nathan has been another challenge. This was the one time that the HIV advocacy organizations could’ve stepped up to the plate to help this deserving family out, but sadly, I don’t know if and how they’ve been helping. I’m not exactly rich or anything, but I do manage to assist them in my own personal capacity. Granted that they should eventually be able to support themselves, you don’t know how hard it is to turn my back on a kid who can’t even go for a check up or a med refill because they don’t have money for a bus ticket to Alabang.
I’ve been fortunate enough to have found my passion for writing, and be able to use it to fuel my HIV advocacy. But even that is daunting. There’s just so much to do, and lucky enough that I’ve been receiving opportunity after opportunity to both write and advocate, I’m just afraid of spreading myself too thin.
And with everyone pulling on me from all directions, some even trying to shoot me down, the last thing I want to do is snap. This is not exactly going to do wonders for my upcoming CD4 count. There just has to be some other way to relieve the strain.
It’s just so much pressure to have the success, happiness, comfort, and the very lives of others depend on my actions. It’s physically tiring, mentally exhausting, and emotionally draining. So much so that, I must admit, I’ve needed to take a slight respite from the realities of life.
I felt like a turtle in a race, leaving the confines of my own shell, trying to push everyone else, from a frail ant to an emotional elephant, past the finish line. My biggest fear was looming... to get trampled in all the ruckus. A hero in the eyes of the few who might care, but mere roadkill in the greater scheme of things.
Fortunately, an angel picked up my rotting carcass and took me up to the heavens, to revive what little life there was left in me. And given the chance to converse with God, I only had three things in mind. I asked for strength, I asked for purpose, and I thanked Him extensively for everything I have. And with that, I felt peace and smiled.
Somehow, it dawned on me that maybe I didn’t need to be a superhero. It might just be enough to be me.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Oh Sistah!
My sister is the eldest in our brood of three, while I’m the youngest. Not much of an age gap to speak of, though, as we were born just three years apart from each other. Spending my childhood with her didn’t really leave much of an impression on me, since we would usually do things separately. You know... the Mars versus Venus thing. One thing I do remember is that she and my brother would always team up and pick on me. Pretty normal, don’t you think?
I believe I’ve mentioned my sister a number of times since starting this blog. So I might as well tell you more.
Growing up with her was a different story. She became a thorn in my side. Being siblings, I expected her to be an ally against authority figures. But no. She always played mommy-junior, echoing every disappointment my mom had for me. So much for her being my hero.
She was always so perfect. She set the standards when it came to educational achievements. And man, were they high. The sad part was that I was always compared to her.
Just like her, I graduated at the top of the class in primary school. But unlike her, I never had any medals to add to the showcase. Just like her, I graduated from one of the toughest secondary schools in town. But that never mattered because my grades were never as high as hers. Just like her, I graduated from one of the best universities in the country. But unlike her, I needed extra years to finish my course.
I know I didn’t do too bad, but being compared to her just magnified my flaws and left me at the bottom of the pack. I’m probably an underachiever because of her. I became an underachiever hidden behind the guise of being easily contented with what little I had and proud of what little I was capable of.
So far from the looks of things, we were never close. Add to that the fact that she moved out on her own earlier on, leaving us even less time to build a mature relationship.
But somehow we did. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I think it started when she needed someone to take care of her dog and her house while she was at work, for a couple of weeks, after a burglar broke into her place. She chose me. I was honored. I couldn’t believe she trusted me that much, and felt safe coming home to find me there.
Since then, she’d gotten married, and man, I was holding back the tears at her wedding. Who would’ve imagined we’d build that kind of relationship? She and her husband eventually moved to a neighboring city, but she’d still call on me to man their house or take her dog while she was out of town.
Our relationship is... civil. We’re not all mushy and I-love-you about it, but the ties are definitely there. We don’t get to talk that often, but each is just a phone call away when the other one is in need. We understand each other. We have the same humor. We have the same pet peeves. We’ve even accepted the fact that I’m a male version of her, and she a female version of me. Good thing we look pretty good either way.
The last phone conversation we had started with me ranting about my mom. Shortly after, the conversation shifted to her ranting... ranting about how she’d just had her appendix removed, and how she’d had a couple of benign cysts removed from her breasts before that. I was shocked. She never told me any of this. But again, I was honored she trusted me with her stories. I offered support, and mostly humor about it, although she begged me not to make her laugh because it still caused her pain in the side.
And then, my realization came. This is why I thought she would be the perfect person to tell about my condition. This is why I thought she deserved to know I have HIV. Because if I could count on the fact that she was just a female version of me, then that would be the same way she’d take my revelation. Light, supportive, and positive.
I don’t know how, where or when I’ll tell her, but God is definitely sending me the signs. I can’t promise I won’t cry when I tell her, but I’m sure it won’t take long for her to make a joke out of it and tickle me silly. I can’t be sure she won’t faint with the news, but she’ll snap out of it soon enough. I can’t say she won’t be all mommy-junior about it, but I know she won’t judge me for it. I won’t promise she’d understand everything right off the bat, but I know I won’t have to apologetic about it.
So I’ll leave it at that for now. When I'll tell her, and if I'll tell her, only the heavens know. The only thing definite now is that... I do love my sister.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Oh God!
I was pleased to receive a message from Y this morning. Remember him? The guy I met at the HIV ward? After exchanging a few messages, he ended saying “Give thanks to the Lord for everything you have.” He’s not the first person who’s indirectly told me to seek the help of The Higher Being for what I’m going through right now. So I ask myself, should I suddenly be more God-fearing because I am not well?
I am not an atheist. I am Roman Catholic, and was brought up to believe in God. I studied in a Catholic school run by Dominican priests. I even served as an acolyte in more than a handful of masses. I do believe in God.
Throughout my life, I've prayed a lot. I usually pray to Him for strength and clarity. I pray that he allow me to muster up the guts to face my fears. I pray to Him to bless the people I love. I have even prayed to Him to take me, during times that I was down.
But I know why he created me. And I know why He keeps me here. It’s not my destiny to be happy. It’s my purpose in life to make others happy. I’m here to be used by others. I’m here to please. I’m here to make life better for others. I’m here to take all the crap.
I know it makes my life sound so pathetic, but I’m honored to be given this responsibility. I make people smile. I make them laugh. I give them physical pleasure. I make them feel good about themselves. I make them feel loved. I make them happy. That’s what I feel God wants me to do. And that’s what makes me happy. Pleasing others.
But I’m not religious. I repeat, NOT religious. I do not pray every night. I do not pray before and after meals. I do not go to church every Sunday. Not even now that I got infected with HIV. My relationship with Him is still as before. I know I’m still blessed. I have a lot going for me in spite of this. I’m happy that I can still make people happy.
Believing in God is one thing, but the Catholic Church is a whole other dimension in itself. In this predominantly Christian country, mainstream Catholicism comes along as too self-righteous. And there’s no better example of that, than the way it frowns on homosexuals. The way they try to turn people like me straight and lead them to the “right path”.
How can I support people who discourage the exact being of who I am? Who are they to turn their backs on someone who He created in His own likeness? Are they saying that God made a mistake when He created me?
“I believe in God”… but omit the part about “the Holy Catholic Church”. Until they learn to accept and respect every living creature on the face of the earth, they’re misinterpreting the Word of God.
God loves us all!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
