My Memoir in Pieces

I am starting a project where I will be posting my memoir, a little bit at a time. Since Mom died, I have felt this sense of mortality that is always in the back of my mind. It is important to me to be remembered, as much hubris as that implies. So, here is the first part.

Intro

If you would have told me years ago I would have ended up as an HIV-positive, former meth addict without a car and living in an emotionally abusive relationship by the time I was 40 years old, I would have told you that you were crazy. I certainly did not start out with the intention of having such a dark and messy life. Everything came to be due to a series of poor choices, each one building on the others like a never ending downhill falling of dominoes, one choice colliding into the next, until at the end there was this jumbled mix of chaos behind me.

I have always felt like an outsider. No matter what kind of group or situation that I find myself in, I am always different from the rest. Whether I am the only gay amongst a group of straights or the only HIV-positive guy amongst all the gays, I have always found myself looking in from the outside. Sometimes feeling like an outsider is due to me feeling more-than, but most of the time it is because I have always felt less than: not masculine enough, not straight-acting enough, not HIV-negative enough, not rich enough. I have been accused of lacking a mental filter; I say exactly what is on my mind with no regard of feelings most of the time. Being outspoken, I have found, makes those that are in charge uncomfortable though, because it seems as though my assertiveness is often a threat to the whatever powers that be. My life and identity has always fallen to the left or to the right, but I don’t ever remember a situation where I fall right in the middle. Unlike Goldilocks I have never found that perfect bowl of porridge, but I am stronger for the search.

My life has often felt like a struggle. Nothing has ever come easy to me or for me. I have become intimate with Murphy and his law. He is a lover with whom I am very intimate. And if something does eventually goes my way, well, then wonder when the other shoe is going to drop. My life has been a series of calamities strung together by tenacity and optimism. Just when you think things can’t possibly get worse, beware, because they will. If all of the fish are swimming downstream, there I am swimming upstream against the current.

I am sure that sounds pessimistic but to me it is only realistic.
Optimism occurs when you deal with whatever negativity is thrown your way. There are so many times I have wanted to bury my head in the sand and hide in my bed, and I have done just that in the short term, but I have never been able to give in to hopelessness and despair no matter how deep I have fallen. Stubbornness, more so than tenacity or hope is what has always been my fuel. I don’t get all Pollyanna when the going gets tough; I put on my ass-kicking boots and challenge Murphy to a duel only I can win.

Good health, a strong family, close friends, and romantic love…I think it is safe to say that is what most people would list as things that bring joy and happiness into one’s life. But what happens when you have bad health, a broken family, lost friends, and more heartache than any one person should have to bear? Does this make you curl up like a slug that just had salt poured on it? Does this mean you go quietly into the night? No, it means you readjust your viewpoint. Happiness becomes redefined, not as tangibles, but as ideals and choices that bring you to where you want to be. Happiness is never an event, it is always a choice. Peace is not the absence of adversity but an acceptance that you are where you are supposed to be. And security, well, that is just an illusion.

Like Cher said, “words are like weapons, they wound sometimes”. But words can also heal, and that is my goal in writing down my memories. Memories can wrap you up like a warm blanket on a cold day or memories can shine a spotlight upon you like when someone is being interrogated, leaving you exposed and yet blinded at the same time. Sometimes when someone is not able to see a way forward it helps to look backwards, not as an escape but as a means to create meaning out of a jumbled mess of memories. When bad things happen to people and they go a lifetime without dealing with any of it, a cancer of the soul begins and the only chemotherapy available is a life examined and mined for wisdom and insight.

I also hope to learn why I make so many bad choices in life. Sometimes I make new mistakes, but mostly I make the same sort of mistakes over and over again. Part of me knows that I am human and not a programmable robot, but the other part of my wonders why I can’t be a bit more logical in my choices. Too many of my decisions are made with my heart and not all of the hearts decisions are the right ones, so I have learned. For a long time I was under the erroneous assumption and belief that bad things just happened to me. I just could not understand why my life kept taking these dramatic twists and turns. Eventually I realized things just don’t randomly happen to someone. In Buddhism there is a law of interdependence that says everything is related. Another Buddhist belief is that you are right where you need to be at any given time. My Buddhist beliefs have taught me that I am where I am in order to learn the next lesson in life. If something bad is going on in my life, then obviously there is a lesson there for me to learn. In reading my story I am hoping to shed insight on how I came to be where I am today. I am hoping to uncover a pattern of behavior that I can use to guide me going forward. I want to be able to see at the end of this journey how I could have changed the outcomes of all of the factors that have brought my life to this point.

Was I right in cutting my father out of my life? Did I make the right choice? What factors support that answer?
Could I have saved my marriage? If the answer is no, could I have done something different to deal with my divorce other than escaping into drug use?
Could I have somehow prevented getting HIV or was this outcome inevitable given IV meth use?

There are always questions without answers, chasing me through my life and keeping me up at night.