Yesterday I had the pleasure of attending the youth-focused Harm Reduction Forum called Bridging the Divide, presented by the Wellington Guelph Drug Strategy, which was centred on how workers could improve services to youth, particularly those dealing with addictions. It included an excellent panel presentation and an outstanding video featuring youth who shared their experiences and needs from service providers.

At last year's Harm Reduction Forum, I wrote the following (published) letter to the editor at the Guelph Mercury, following a letter that highlighted the dangers of Levamisole being cut into cocaine:

I’m not sure why the journalist attending the Harm Reduction Forum put on by the Drug Strategy Advisory Committee on Friday, March 11, chose to write an article on Levamisole, the animal de-wormer that is now commonly being cut into cocaine. Although a serious matter, there were many more solutions-focused concepts to come alive in the forum, which can help our community respond to these types of issues. As an audience member, I was truly inspired by many of the great works being done by various organizations in the tri-city area, many of which are working in partnership with members of the drug using communities. By employing the principles of harm reduction and by working collaboratively with people who have a history of street involvement, we can build a safer, healthier community. One of the individuals speaking from the panel of lived experience said that, “it’s easy to see why Guelph was named as the most caring community.” But labeling people as “addicts” and forgetting about their skills, strengths, and valued lived experience only further marginalizes and isolates people. Let’s live up our positive reputation by supporting harm reduction programs and working together as a community despite our differences.

I was disappointed that last year's journalist chose to focus on something "sensational" instead of the heart of the forum.  Last year's session was a great example of how people with lived experience of addiction and housing insecurity issues can work collaboratively, as well as the importance of harm reduction and housing in our community. Why weren't these positive developments highlighted? I was really moved by the lived-experience panel at last year's session.Wasn't the journalist?

With issues like HIV, addiction, mental house and housing insecurity, the media often tries to pick up the most sensational subject, usually failing to capture the complexities or true nature of the issue.

That's why I was thrilled today to see the front page article titled, "Youth given a voice at Guelph harm reduction forum." They captured some of the important, exciting and moving features of the day, including the fact that service providers - including the Chief of Police - were there to listen and learn from youth. (You can read the article here.)

It is so refreshing to get some positive recognition in the media about harm reduction! Thank you to the Wellington Guelph Drug Strategy and all the youth who participated.

Last September I wrote about having some success with my hobby. When I was diagnosed HIV positive and left my job, I needed a hobby so I used some of my money to buy a decent digital camera and get back to my love of photography. I take most of my photos in colour but black & white are by far my favourites. If I think one of my photos would look good in black and white, thanks to digital technology, it’s just an extra click on a photo program.

Last August I took a picture the sun going down behind the reeds in a pond out at the old prison property and a local artist seen it on my flickr page. She contacted me and asked if she could use it as inspiration for a piece of art. I was thrilled that anyone would even ask; I agreed right away. She did tell me that her creation wouldn't look identical but the spirit of my photo would be noticeable, I guess that the best way to describe it.

Well last week I was checking new photos from my friends and contacts on flickr and there it was, a photo of her finished artwork of my photo. With it were a couple close up pictures to show how it was created, she calls herself a thread painter. She creates everything with a sewing machine and fabric. I find it to be so original, one of a kind and it would be hard to recreate this piece.

The artist's name is Sharron Begg and she will be showing her piece of art at the Elora Centre for The Arts in Elora Ontario from Monday, May 21st to Sunday, July 1st. The piece is called "Through The Reeds". I really want to go, I have yet to meet her actually.

This brings me to making the decision, finally, to start showing my photos - its artwork too - so I'm looking for places that I can do that. Two weeks ago an email from the Waterloo Region Rainbow Coalition was forwarded to me seeking artists from the LGBTQ community to display artwork at their "Discussion on Diversity" event on June 14th. I have applied to see if I can show mine, I sent them four samples that I would be showing. I have the frames ready, pictures are blown up to fit, including the one that was the inspiration for the artwork. I'm not allowed to sell anything there but I am able to provide contact information. I am tapping my foot waiting to hear back telling me I am accepted. When I do get the call I will post info. Crossing my fingers.

And that isn't all that I'm excited about. I was given a teaser from ACG about a program that is upcoming that will involve photography and I can get be a part of it. I don't have all the details yet so when its about to take off, they will be sending it out to other possible participants. So stay tuned and sign up, all events are "no experience necessary".

*Sharron Beggs has given me permission to mention her in this blog.

Our fears arise from things we don't confront. Once we are willing to look fully and deeply at the source of a fear, it loses its power.

- Shakti Gawain from the book One Day At A Time In Al-anon

1997 has been a terrible year with regards to my emotions and grief. I get up from the table make myself a cup of tea and again study the configuration on the table in front of me. It is a jigsaw puzzle of teddy bears. One piece seems to jump out at me, bidding for my attention. All of a sudden I'm starting to see things more clearly, despite the spaces. An assembly of teddy bears start to emerge, many fuzzy faces staring back at me. I pick up the phone... it rings and rings and rings, no answer! Damn! Where is everybody? My life is falling apart!!!! I'm getting desperate.....I DON'T KNOW WHAT I MIGHT DO!!!! Or what I expect anyone else to do! Why the hell didn't anyone realize that Gordon's meds where still here - Morphine, Dilaudid, anti-depressants, plus my anti-depressants... what more would I need to relieve me of my pain? Emotional and physical. Again I call.....finally someone -another PHA - Sean - answers the phone.

"What's wrong Church Mouse?" he asks. "Everything! I miss Gordon! I feel like I am losing my grip on reality!" He tries his best to offer support. He was an acquaintance and didn't know me as well as my other friends.We talk for a bit and I promise I will get some help the next day.

Back to my puzzle; I am restless. I keep the curtains drawn so no one can see me falling apart. Pain floods over me. I am still sobbing when the phone rings, giving me a start.

"How are you?" The voice on the other end of the phone asks. "NOT GOOD!" I blurt out, staring at the mass of teddy bears through blurry eyes. I suspect there are a few pieces missing. These last couple of pieces don't fit properly. My head hurts from crying so much.

Now comes the big question.... "What happened, Church Mouse? You seemed fine the last time we talked."

"I don't want to go on!... I don't think I can!... It's too hard!"

She asks, "what would Gordon think?"

"I can't say! I don't know!"

I am so tired of all the pressure on myself to stay in control all the time. I'm not sure she understands. I assure her I will be okay - that I just needed to vent.

The next day, I get a call from my support worker, Mary.

"What's going on, Church Mouse?" Not wanting to make an issue out of how I was feeling I replied, "what do you mean?"

"A little birdie told me that he was worried about your emotional state." Well, I tell her, "I don't trust myself." My emotions hit me like a tidal wave. "I don't know if I am sick or I just think I am!"

Mary replies, "get your bags packed. I have booked you a retreat in Toronto for PHAs, caregivers and people living or working in the field of AIDS." I'm sure my life won't have a drastic change after this week, but, I hoped I would come away with a renewed spirit.

I arrive in Toronto to find wonderful, caring people, who listen patiently as I share who Church Mouse is, and sympathize with the fact that I have a sore mouth and can barely eat. (Even a glass of water hurt.) Even though I am there and in good company I am a mess emotionally and physically. One evening after everyone went to bed I toss and turn, hoping sleep would soon come. But instead I suffer my worst panic attack. So much so that I pull the dresser in front of the open window. I am on the second floor of a college dormitory. My heart is pounding, I am sweating and my mind is racing. I am thinking how easy it would be to slide myself out onto that window ledge. There is an internal war going on . The best I can do is pray for some relief.

I am still awake when the sun comes up. I made it through the night! In that state of mind I cannot not see how my actions would affect those who loved me. As soon it is light, out of course I fall asleep. One of the ladies (Lillian ) comes to see if I was coming down for lunch. By this time I had showered and was down in the dining room. She must have wondered why the dresser was in front of the window. She doesn't say anything except that she was concerned because she didn't see me at breakfast.

If I remember right, Lillian worked at Casey House (a long term home for people living with AIDS) as a Chaplin. I was drawn to her caring spirit. I ask Lillian if we can go outside the retreat for a coffee? As we walk along the street past the Hockey Hall of Fame I am fighting back the tears. As we are sitting having our coffee, Lillain comments, "I sense that you are holding something back, Church Mouse?" I try several times (with painful pauses) to tell her why I am so upset. Finally with much shame I tell her how I feel like a hypocrite!

"How could I have a stronger faith in Gordon (my husband) than I have in God?"

She says "it is because you could see Gordon - but it is okay, because he was my messenger to God." My shoulders sink in relief. I feel like a balloon that had the air let out. Now that I feel safe sharing with Lillian and knowing that she isn't judging me I continue to tell her the rest of how I don't trust myself and about how my thoughts of suicide consume me. She quietly listens to my desperate words. She assures me, "you don't have to join Gordon to have a connection with him." I tell her there is a wall between us and I need to break through it. She tells me that through prayer and meditation I may be able to make that wall more transparent.

"Keep writing to him. He is always with you."

We are able to get my room switched to a main floor and I sleep a lot better.

Back home I am still fighting the demons of depression, trying to hide my feelings from those who would rather not talk about them. I feel like my emotions have no place in the real world! I need to keep talking to Patricia (the Chaplin at the hospital) who has been helping me to deal with my grief.

The teddy bear puzzle is now complete and glued to a piece of card board - a reminder that the pieces of my life will eventually fit together.

By: Discolemonade

If I had of known what the day was going to bring to me that day, my emotions when I woke up in the morning may have been quite different than what they were. When I woke up I felt bright and energetic. I was only slightly annoyed that it still seemed to be freezing out despite the days on the calendar swiftly breezing by.

Now, before I begin, I feel I must give a little bit of background. I had been meaning to get tested for quite awhile now. One might ask why I waited so long and to that, I’m afraid I couldn’t give a straight answer. Was it that it was just simply inconvenient? Was it that I didn’t think I was at risk? Was it that I didn’t know exactly what to expect?

I think a very big part of it was that deep down I was terrified of what I might find if I did get tested. I would like to say that I was above this and knew to get tested right away, regardless of my fears, because we all know it is better to know sooner rather than later. But, for the sake of honestly, I must tell the truth here. Frankly, it was easier not to know! It was much easier to blissfully go through life talking yourself into the fact that you “probably didn’t have it”.

The problem is, even though with all the facts I thought I was ok, in the end I still really didn’t know. At any point it isn’t just about finding out so you can get treatment for something like HIV or Hep C immediately, but it is crucial for individuals to get tested so that it will stop those people from unknowingly passing the virus onto someone else, and so the cycle continues.

As an outreach worker, a huge part of what I do is to encourage others to get tested! The fact that I hadn’t been tested myself had been weighing on my conscience for quite some time now. I knew I was going to do it, but the question was just when and how.

Luckily, when I went into Our Place (40 Baker St.) that day, I had almost forgotten that recently there had been a nurse from Public Health coming in on Mondays to do testing for some things including HIV and the Hep ABCs (as well as other sexuality transmitted infections). It was a lucky coincidence that I was there that day. I had forgotten until a good friend of mine came from around the back corner with a big grin on his face yelling “I’m clean, I’m clean!” and throwing his hands up in the air. I immediately knew what he meant, and my hands already began to get clammy. I knew this would be the moment that I had to do what I had been putting off for much too long already.

I asked my friend if he was finished and if I could go in next. He told me that I could go and immediately, a girlfriend of mine offered to come along for moral support, if I was comfortable of course. She was someone I had known for a long time and somebody I trusted. Although I am mostly the kind of person who prefers to do things alone, in that moment I felt incredibly grateful to have somebody there holding my hand, literally.

I entered a small room with a small table and three chairs. The nurse sat in one and I sat down across from her as my friend took her seat next to me. I was more nervous than I thought I would be. I answered a few routine questions, gave her my name etc. She asked me if I had any reason to believe I could be at risk. I answered yes. My mind immediately flew to all of the times I hadn’t been as careful as I should have been. “What’s done is done and now it’s up to fate..” I told myself.

I decided to get tested for Hep A, B, C, HIV, and Syphilis. Those were tests I could do by blood, and even though I only really wanted to get tested for Hep C and HIV, I figured while I was here I may as well throw em’ all in! There were two tests, the first was a rapid test for HIV. I can’t remember the exact explanation of exactly how it works. (If you wanted to find out for sure, go down and get tested yourself and I’m sure the nurse would be more than happy to explain it to you! Hehe).

In this rapid HIV test, the nurse pricked my index finger at the top with a small needle. It didn’t hurt. She then began a technique called “milking” in which she slowly massaged my finger in an upwards motion, collecting the blood with a small dropper. It was not a stressful process at all. She then dropped a bit of my blood into a small dish that was filled with a certain kind of chemical. I can’t remember if it changed colors or if it was a “two dots appear” kind of deal, but I remember it being similar to a pregnancy test. If one thing happens, you’re good, if the other thing happens, you’re whole world is about to get rocked.

Discolemonade 

"At least you remembered some of the words."

Back in June I told you who the Church Mouse is today. Now I feel compelled to share with you a glimpse of growing up Church Mouse. I grew up in a small farming community in southern Ontario, where my parents worked hard raising livestock to make a living and raise 4 children. I was one of the lucky ones who started out in the one-room school house. (All eight grades all together!) I don't know how our teacher managed. My mom or dad would usually drop Val ( my older sister by four years) and me off in the morning but because my dad trucked cattle to market for other farmers we often had to walk half a mile home. I just had a vision of my grandfather telling us, "yeah, we had to walk four miles up hill both ways through 3 feet of snow!" ...You know the stories!

Speaking of Dad's father... about a year ago my sister Beth and I were looking at the local paper. On the front page was a picture consisting of all the kids In Grandpa's school. It was about to be torn down. Beth asked my dad why didn't Grandpa, who was sitting on the floor in the front row, have any shoes on? My father told us that "Grandpa use to say it was his brother's turn to wear the shoes!" How sad - and funny - is that!

Being one of only three students in grade one I soon became a target for the older boys who thought it would be funny to dip my poneytail in the ink well. At least Val was there to set them straight. In grade two we were bused to the new public school. No more snakes under the school steps and neighbours' dogs chasing you at recess! But I did miss the tobogganing on our lunch hour.

My favorite event at our new school became the penny auction for The Red Cross Society. We were asked to bring a small item we were willing to part with to be auctioned off. Oh yeah - and our pennies! I guess this is where my love of auctions stemmed from.

School was always difficult for Church Mouse. I struggled every grade to pay attention, stay in my seat and keep my mouth shut. The absolute worst was when the teacher would send me to the map to find a place and I had no idea where to look. Then after what seemed like forever, she would get another student to show me - humiliating me all the more. How can a person possibly learn by being made to look stupid!

My first experience with stage freight happened in grade five when I volunteered or was chosen (most likely it was the latter) to play the part of Marcie in A Charlie Brown Christmas. I was ecstatic because my dad would be there in the audience; Mom was home with my little brother. Well, the moment of truth arrives as our class files into the auditorium and up on to the stage were I become trembling Marcie. As the curtain swishes back and I am looking out into a pool of smiling parents, the lump in my throat becomes the size of a peach stone. The words have left me, my mind is blank, all I can do is stare back like a deer in headlights. So much for my big debut! The teacher off to the side of the stage is prompting me. One word came, then nothing, then another couple words. (Oh my God this is painstakingly awful! I wish those people would stop smiling, I 'm dying a slow death here!) Finally I am finished that anguishing ordeal. Never, ever again! I was devastated and humiliated unlike my classmates who were playing cards or goofing around since our teacher was watching the rest of the concert. I sat in the classroom with my head on my folded arms trying to fight back the tears. That's when I heard a voice beside me; raising my tear-stained face I saw the lad who had been picking on me every chance he got for the last three months. Trying to assure me that "it wasn't that big a deal" he said "at least you remembered some of your lines - I didn't remember any of mine."

Fast forward 35 years, marathon runners are going to raise money for our agency over 24 hours. I am asked to tell my story. I am so proud to invite Beth, my dad and one of my dad's neighbours who wanted to hear me speak publicly. After the dinner I sneak out to brush my teeth and try and still my nerves... next thing I know, one of the agency staff is standing in the doorway saying Church Mouse, you're on!!!!Oh my God - now I have to return through the banquet hall with my tooth brush and paste and with some sort of composure, retrieve my notes and get my butt up to the microphone. All and all this time the words came easily and confidently. After, as we are standing on the steps saying goodbye, Dad hugged me and said "Church mouse you did good!" Who knew the church mouse would finally find her voice and shine? CM

I believe that people come into my life for a reason................

It was the summer of 1997. The pain ripples through me as I am looking over the park where Gordon and I exchanged our wedding vows. In the distance through teary eyes I can see the little wooden bridge that I thought would add a touch of romance to our big day. The path I walked with my dad in anticipation of being Gordon's life partner. Sitting there, immersed in the past I have to admit I need someone to share my grief with. So I signed up for a grief workshop. Trying to deal with all the emotions that flooded me was way bigger than I could handle on my own.

I think it was the second time I attended this group that one of the ladies I had met a week earlier and shared my story with gave me the book, "The Colour of Light - Meditations for people with HIV/AIDS." At this time, Joy invited me to come to the hospital where Gordon had passed. The Chaplins were putting on a service for families and friends who had lost loved ones the previous year. She told me she wanted to introduce me to Patricia, one of the Chaplins who had helped her when she lost her husband. Well, I went dragging my feet and feeling quite alone. It turned out to be a beautiful service; it was uplifting, not depressing like I feared. I was pleasantly surprised to meet Patricia. She had such a warm and welcoming personality and she could see I was in need of some counseling. She told me, "come and see me, Church Mouse." We connected from that very first visit. She helped me through many losses - not just deaths but relationships as well . (I saw her up until she retired from the hospital.) She listened patiently as I recounted my losses.

I can remember how difficult it was for me to get started. I feared that my emotions might be judged as crazy or wrong. An opportunity came up were a female speaker was requested to sit on a panel about HIV and AIDS at the Indian reserve. Despite my grief and depression I agreed to go. My brother Al volunteered to drive. He said he was interested in hearing my story. I was nervous about how he would cope with hearing the truth of my life. Although he saw portions of what Gordon and I were living with, I felt that some of what I might say may catch him of guard.We arrived to find that I was to be one of three speakers. There was a well known woman HIV specialist, and another HIV positive women from the aboriginal community. I applaud this young lady - she couldn't have been more than 20 - for coming out and sharing her story with her family, neighbours and community.

I only had to worry about the one who drove me there, one I'm sure who was taught that men don't cry and to keep your feelings in check It's always been hard to know what Al is thinking. I only hope he was proud of me in my efforts to educate. Hours after Al dropped me off, lying in bed, shadows appear on my wall of dancing leaves outside my window. The wind is howling. I can't sleep. My mind is wondering how Gordon could leave me here to face a world, one where people judge me because of this horrible disease that has been bestowed upon me. I feel I am expected to be a tough, independent soldier in this battle. How am I suppose to be strong when my heart feels like as battered warrior? To be afraid to live, too afraid to die. I push those thoughts out of my mind and recapture the memory of the day I crossed that little wooden bridge to my new life.

You had a gift of being a wonderful soul,
You made me feel totally whole.

You suffered much in silent pain,
You fought the urge to even complain.

The road was rough that we would travel,
While this disease would soon unravel.

You held your head up high,
Wouldn't let them see you cry.

And when the end was almost near,
You protected me from your own fear.

When you left me I struggled to cope,
It was hard to have any kind of hope.

There is a crack in my heart you see,
That no one feels but only me.

I know you chose your time to go,
I can't see how I didn't know.

Maybe my mind wouldn't let me see ,
The eventual parting of you and me.

Today, I feel your presence in my life.
But the pain and loss still cuts like a knife.

I miss your conversation and your touch,
The pain I feel is just too much.

We didn't have a lot of time for fun,
Mostly there were struggles to be fought and won.

I await the day when I will find you my friend,
For the love we had has no end.

Love, Church Mouse

By Wayne Bristow (Chat Junkie)

What does being "sex positive" mean to you?

I was following ACG's Twitter (@AIDSGuelph) a while ago and I notice that Megan had put this out to the online world. She recently told me that it didn't get any responses. This surprised me. The subject used to stump me. How do you answer this; what is it?

I attended a workshop recently where this term was used and explained but it didn't address the thoughts I had on it. My take on it is based on something I learned while taking the Positive Prevention Train the Trainer course a couple years ago. Sure there are a lot of scientific and medical parts to what it may mean to be “sex positive” but I decided to share my thoughts which are more based on an emotional definition. Is it possible to have a healthy sex life after a HIV+ diagnosis? And what would that look like?

I remember years before my diagnosis, I would be online, I'd watch conversations by many people saying that when you test HIV+, your sex life should be over, you should not be having sex. Oh yeah, there would be some who spoke up to say that you can still have sex by using condoms and practice safe sex like we were all supposed to be doing. In my opinion this thinking still goes on, and the ratio seems to be more people still think that HIV positive people shouldn't be having sex with other people. I had met people who were in relationships where one person was positive and the other negative and they remained this way for over 10 years, so I knew and believed it is possible to still have sex even after testing positive.

I had my status broadcasted over the internet; I sat and watched as it happened. For two hours I sat in front of my monitor watching all the people I had been chatting with for years debate the fact that I should have had my status in my profile, that I should tell everyone, everyday, that I should not be in a chatroom trying to meet people. I was dirty, I should be shot, I should be run over, I was a dishonest person, I should be locked up and the key thrown away, no one should meet me let alone have sex with me.

Being sex positive for me is believing I can still have sex, good sex, safe sex, using the same safe practices that everyone else should be using. I AM worthy of it, I AM an honest person. I have always disclosed my status to any possible partners. In fact, I don't meet anyone face to face without telling them first. It’s the choice I made from the beginning.

Having been diagnosed HIV+ coupled with a little aging has settled me down but it looks like I'm going to be around a while longer. My wild days are over, now I want more out of life and sex from just one person. There are plenty of ways to have sex without taking risks, It doesn't have to involve sexual intercourse or an all out sex Olympics, instead it can be a lot of human contact, intimacy and mutual gratification. I don't want to get too graphic here but let’s just say, foreplay doesn't have to be time limited and masturbation isn't going to make you blind (but you might close your eyes a lot.)

Yes, it is possible to have a good sex life, a healthy sex life with an HIV+ diagnosis and it can be great, the message is the same… play safe. This is what being "sex positive" means to me, positively!

After some convincing I finally accepted some help with meals (even though I wasn't eating much because of the ulcer in my mouth,) cleaning, but most times I preferred if they just sat and talked. Beth is the type who needs to be doing something productive. She would just go ahead and do what she could see needed doing. Most of the time they were to make sure I took my meds. I had a tendency to sit there with the pills in my hand not wanting to take them while time slipped by.

Al had the weekend shift. It must have been very draining on him looking after mom during the week and me on the weekend.Val was great at getting me to doctor appointments on time and out for fresh air. One of the 6 people on my care team put up a large calendar marking down who was coming and when and their phone numbers. I think their mission was to get me to put some weight on. I was 89 lbs and every inch of my body hurt. I lost my butt because of the AZT (years ago I would have been happy!) but when your have no cushion and are sitting on bone it sucks!

A home care physical therapist was sent out to try and help me. I just loved this woman! She had a wonderful English accent and a beautiful personality. Most of all I enjoyed her company. She believed that I would recover and her positive attitude helped me immensely. She brought with her a chunk a foam which made it easier to take a bath. It worked well because you could just stand it on end and the water would run out and would dry quickly. I think I was an easy patient because they didn't have to do much other than giving me B12 shots in my hip. Ouch! I didn't have much meat on my bones. I don't think they did blood work, I think that was done at the doctors office.

The hardest part was I could not see this as a short term arrangement. I felt that once I accepted help I would lose my independence. It turned out in the end to be not as bad as I imagined. Thank God for family and volunteers!!!CM

By Wayne Bristow (Chat Junkie)

To be (a PHA) or not to be? How I answer that question.

In the last couple weeks I have been a part of a friendly debate about being called a PHA and naturally I am the one who makes it a debate. While others don't like the the acronym, I don't have a real problem with it. For me its what I'm known as in the HIV community, at my AIDS Service Organization, at training sessions, at HIV conferences or anything else that I do as a person living with HIV. But that is just a small part of who I am and a small part of my world.

First, I am a son, a brother, a cousin, I'm an uncle, a father and a grandfather. I am someone's friend, someone's co-worker, or a fellow student. When I am any of these other persons, I am not a son who is a PHA, or a friend who is a PHA, on a bus or standing in line at the department store, I don't have to introduce myself by saying, "Hi, I'm Wayne and I'm a PHA. Only when I stand before my peers do I need to be a PHA. It's at that time I wear my hat proudly, for me its my PhD. I live it, I know more about it than some who works in the HIV community.

I believe the HIV community has to be a leader in the creation of acronyms. Every organization we talk about or associate with is known first by its acronym. This is the ACG blog, there is an ASO in KW known as ACCKWA. The ACG is associated with the OHTN, OAN, CAS. See what I mean?

ACG - AIDS Commitee of Guelph Wellington
OAN - Ontario AIDS Network
OHTN - Ontario HIV Treatment Network
CAS - Canadian AIDS Society
ACCKWA - AIDS Commitee of Cambridge Kitchener Waterloo and Area
KW - Kitchener Waterloo

I can live with the PHA tag because right now it stands for a "Person Living With HIV/AIDS", it's something positive. If a time comes when someone outside the HIV community asks me what it stands for it's going be a positive conversation, the words "living with" will lead people to want to know more. How do you "live" with HIV?

Whether I use the full phrase or the acronym, for me the result is the same. Being so active in the community, acronyms have become a big part of my vocabulary. I use to say, "WHAT?", now I know and use most of them. Talk to me, you'll find out.

No matter what they call us it will have a name, a label. I know where the term came from, The Denver Principles, and I know why. It told people who we were and don't do anything that is about us without us.

I had to hit my rock bottom before I was really ready to change. Without going into too much detail, I got into some trouble with the cops. I took off to Toronto with two of my friends, a scheme which after three days of destroying ourselves landed us in the back of a paddy wagon. Those three days will never leave me. They are a part of me and who I am. I still remember the feeling of the handcuffs wrapped tightly around my wrists. I remember the crappy bologna sandwich they gave me to eat while I was in the holding cell. I remember listening to my friend knocking against the cell wall beside me, as if to say “I’m here, it’s gonna be ok”. It’s funny, for years I learned to blur things out. I have entire chunks of my life that are nothing but fuzzy blurs, but I remember everything about that day: the smells, things people said, even what I was wearing. That night is the night everything changed.

To make a long story short, I had to remove myself from my life and everyone I knew in order to start over. I moved back to Kitchener (my hometown) to try to start a new life. It was a lonely start. I had friends from when I had grown up there, but none of them had gone down quite the same path as I had. When I came back I was a completely different person, and so were they. So I had a lot of time to think. I wanted to be sober, but it was hard. I hated myself and I felt like I had nothing to work towards. Every bone in my body was sad and marinated in anger, lots of anger. It was a good thing I didn’t know where to get it in that city, because if it I did, I probably would have.

I did make one friend in Kitchener though, very early in my recovery. He was a recovering addict as well, but he was far along in his recovery. As if fate had just dropped him into my lap, he saw me standing on the street one day and decided to strike up a conversation with me. He must have seen that I really needed somebody in that moment. He must have seen something in me that was screaming for help. He was the only person that didn’t say something about the weird clothes I was wearing. He just asked me who I was, he told me his story. We started going out for coffee, smoking cigarettes and talking for hours. It was never a romantic love, he was my guardian angel. Sometimes even now, I wonder if he was even real. He taught me to look people in the eye when I talked to them, with pride and confidence, instead of down at my feet. He taught me to laugh, and mean it. He really taught me how to love myself again. And most importantly- he taught me that I could be sober and actually be happy.

Skipping ahead a few years, I am here, now. I managed to get my sh!t together and actually finish school. I have been sober for five years now. It was a fight though. I didn’t stop doing drugs and BAM, things got better just like that. I am still, even now, picking up the pieces of a life I had so elegantly broken. It’s a work in progress. Life has taught me so many things. I have grown spiritually; I have gained knowledge and confidence in myself. The empty feeling is still there sometimes, it will always be the monkey on my back. But I try to fill it with positive things instead of destructive things. I fill it with music, art, dancing, sewing, painting, friendship, learning, challenging. I am not a different person. I am many people, meshed into one body.

The reason I wanted to do the youth outreach program was because I feel like the only reason I didn’t get some kind of health problem from the way I mistreated my body was simply by miracle. I figure if I can help even one person be more informed about the health risks out there from “risk-taking” behavior (as they call it) then I’ll do it. I feel like many young people, especially girls, don’t know how to take charge of their own sexual behaviors, and even don’t feel they have a RIGHT to protect their own body because on some level, they feel they deserve it. I also feel this way when it comes to injection drug use, or even risky tattoos/piercings. It may be that some people are JUST being unsafe because they truly don’t care. However, I firmly believe if people were fully informed, and truly knew more about Hep C and HIV, the odds of more people being protected and careful would drastically rise, bringing those bad numbers down. Because in the end, most choices you make are reversible. Whoever you decide to become in your life will constantly be changing. But safety comes first. Do what you want to do, be who you are, whoever that may be. All people have a right to live healthy and safe. If people are informed and given the means to protect themselves from these purely preventable illnesses, then what we will have to be worrying about will not be if are we healthy and safe, it will simply be who we choose to be in the rest of our lives.

Discolemonade 

by B.J. Caldwell, Educator

Just to let everyone know there will be a live webcast of a Social Research Centre Panel this Thursday Mar. 22nd (9:00am - 12:00pm). For those of you who can travel to Toronto and would like to attend in person, you can register here.

The line-up of speakers is top-notch, and it should be very informative.

From the advertisement for the event:

Implications for Policy and Practice
In Canada, criminal prosecutions have increasingly taken place against people living with HIV (PHAs) for failing to disclose their HIV status to their sexual partners. On February 8, 2012, two appeals (from Manitoba and Quebec) went before the Supreme Court of Canada and raise the question of whether PHAs should be convicted of sexual assault for not disclosing their status in circumstances where there is no significant risk of HIV transmission, such as when a condom is used or when a person`s viral load is low or undetectable.
Depending on the outcome of the hearings, radical changes could be in store for Canadians with the expansion of criminal law that would place every person living with HIV in Canada at risk of prosecution for aggravated sexual assault - a charge which carries a maximum sentence of life in prison.

These legislative changes would have far-reaching implications for HIV prevention and public health efforts, research and public policy, HIV-related programs and services, and for PHAs and communities disproportionately affected by HIV. Such sweeping changes would put significant pressure on Canada's legal and already over-burdened correctional system.

Guest speakers include:
• Barry Adam (OHTN, University of Windsor) who will Chair the session
• Catherine Dodds (Sigma Research, London School of Hygiene and Tropical Medicine, U.K.)
• Eric Mykhalovskiy (York University)
• Jacqueline Willmore (Ottawa Public Health)
• Mark Tyndall (Social Research Centre in HIV Prevention (SRC), University of Ottawa)
• Richard Elliott (Canadian HIV/AIDS Legal Network)
• Tim McCaskell (Ontario Working Group on Criminal Law and HIV Exposure)
• Valerie Pierre-Pierre (African and Caribbean Council on HIV/AIDS in Ontario).

For those who want to view it live, online, click here. You may want to visit the site a bit before the webcast so you can ensure you have time to download the small file required to watch the show. If it becomes available as a recording I will upload it here.

One does not have to stand against the gale, One yields and becomes part of the wind.------------------Emmanuel

Taken from the Colour Of Light, Perry Tilleraa

Carrying on alone after Gordon died, it was tough to be tough! I felt like I was failing at being the strong person I expected myself to be. I worried about what others though of me. I felt they might see me as cold with no feeling because of the front that I was able to put up. They could not see my broken heart or tear stained pillow.  I dove into speaking publicly about being a caregiver and living with the virus myself. Trying to postpone the infinite pain.

Almost losing track of the real me, I just couldn't keep up the pace. The "GLUE" as Beth called it was starting to let go! AIDS became the centre of my life! I went from spending most of our savings to wanting to check out permanently myself. Looking in the mirror there were no traces of the smile that use to come easily when I heard Gordon's voice. One of my friends told me, "the best way out of something is through it." Smart lady! In 1997 after many losses, stress and the side effects of my HIV medications I dropped to 89 lbs. My CD4 count was a mere 16! I was now a size three! I developed an ulcer in my mouth that made it extremely hard to eat. Even water hurt. I looked like a skeleton of the person I once was. This was an awful place to be... so weak, so vulnerable. It takes a lot of energy to live with a disease. At this point all I wanted was one more Christmas with my family and to celebrate my 40th Birthday. 

Twixt the optimist and pessimist. The difference is droll; The optimist sees the doughnut but the pessimist sees the hole. ------------McLandburg Wilson

There is a medicine for despair----we call it hope.

(Both taken from The Little Book of Hope H.Jackson Brown ,Jr.)

Hope is what keeps me afloat.

CM

by B.J. Caldwell, Educator

Anyone living with HIV who is on treatment has probably heard the word 'Adherence' more times than they can count. And for good reason: without adherence, HIV can become resistant to the meds they are taking. Adherence is critical to the long-term survival and quality of life of people living with HIV.

Adherence = taking the right dose AT the right time WITH the right amount/type of food/no food (depending on the regimen). And to be honest it is quite challenging to do 100% of the time.

In the past several years there have been trials looking into the use of some type of HIV treatment given to HIV- people who are at increased risk of becoming HIV+ to see if that would help to prevent them from becoming HIV+ --- PRE-Exposure Prophylaxis.

Some trials have shown really promising results, and others have not. Trials involving women have not shown all that much promise. A new study looks into the reasons why there is a disparity among PREP trials. And you guessed it: Adherence may be the reason.

Trying to measure adherence in any clinical study has always been a challenge. Self-reporting has it's obvious drawbacks, as does remaining pill-counts. Even measuring drug levels in the blood has its limitations as they are usually not measured more than once per month.

CATIE has a great intro the issue and an analysis of the studyt results. It's a definite must-read for those interested in new HIV prevention technologies.

Check it out here

I had been going like the energizer bunny rabbit for 3 yrs. My brother Al has been so great. He listens to me revisit Gordon's last night over and over again trying to understand. I am very worried about my support buddy, Lena. The doctors have been treating her cancer with chemo and radiation. They finally admit there is nothing more they can do. She told them she was stopping all the meds all together except the pain killers. I feel helpless as how to be there for her. Each day of my life has become a struggle. My doctor told me to "take a day off from your life."

March 31/97 was my last visit with my dear friend Lena. It must have been Easter because I remember her Mom cooked a turkey dinner. We visited a bit before we ate and she was anxious to show me her pain pump because it had a burn mark from a cigarette on it. She told me with a smile, "I think this belonged to Gordon!" Just knowing that up lifted her spirits. She used to tell me that Gordon looked like Don Johnson from Miami Vice. Funny thing was, I have seen pictures of Gordon in his teens and he wore a blazer with a t-shirt underneath.(He told me that "It was the cool look back then.")

I gave Lena an angel teddy bear that I bought for her in Florida. When you pulled the string it said "I LOVE YOU!" Sitting on her bed chatting, she was holding that bear. I saw that far away look that I had seen with Gordon a week before he passed. A little while later, she kept drifting off on me so I told her I would let her rest. I knew in my heart as I walked out the door I was saying good bye for the last time. April 1st, my friend succumbed to her illness with her family and partner present. I called my mom. I don't remember her words but I remember I felt comforted after I hung up the phone. I took the water pitcher Lena had made in our ceramic class, filled it with flowers and took it to the funeral home. Little did I know it wasn't finished and the water eventually seeped out. Paige, my new support buddy, offered come with me to the visitation. As we are hanging up our coats I turn to find her sobbing. I asked what was wrong and she replied, "It seems like yesterday we were here for Gordon!"

The next day, Al, my brother accompanied me to the funeral he could tell how much stress I was under. I am exhausted, my mind is working overtime worrying about my Mom's health. I have to stop and think about the simple everyday tasks.Too many losses. Not just my husband and my buddy but also friends who I met in my HIV support group. I am finding it hard to function. I'm a mess, not eating, not sleeping and crying a lot. If I have to wait in line at the bank or the grocery story I feel nausea and ready to collapse. It is hard to accept that life goes on. People still have parties, plan weddings, and celebrate special days. I feel like I am invisible. That my grief is non-existent. The only way I can deal is to keep writing to Gordon.

CM

Anyone who knows me well, knows that I spend a lot of time online following social media. Many hours I'm on Facebook and Twitter reading and sharing things I think are important to me and ACG and my peers. One of my many passions is searching for more information on HIV and aging. Being someone who is living with both, it's becoming important to me to make sure I can live out my senior years with dignity like anyone else. What I'm learning is that the healthcare system isn't really ready for me as a gay man, or as someone who is living with HIV.

Some things I have read online are, every 12 seconds someone in the world will be infected with HIV, in America it's believed that every 9.5 minutes someone will be infected. I haven't heard any numbers being mentioned for Canadians but I'm sure there are and we need to be very concerned. What these numbers tell us is that there are many people right now who are aging with HIV and will soon be part of the healthcare system in the near future; there will be many hundreds of thousands who will follow.

When scientists, medical establishments and activists learned what they were dealing with back in the early 1980s they went to work to organize and find treatments and learn how to care for the people who were infected. Due to all the work they did over the years and what we've learned from the survivors, we are now able to live long full and worthwhile lives with HIV today. They are all leaders, true heroes in my mind. We can never forget the people who lost the fight. Their existence gave scientists and the medical community so much valued information.

In 2010, I sat on a panel at ACG's HIV and Aging Symposium. During that event I listened to a gentleman talk about his work trying to find out what Long-term care had available for the LGBTQ community. I have to say, I wasn't impressed to hear what the healthcare people were telling him: "we don't know, we've never had a gay person in one of our facilities". WHAT? Hearing this only strengthened my need to make this my mission - I must get involved and try to make things better for my peers and for myself.

Like the leaders and heroes that came before us, the ones who made it easier for us to live outside a closet, who made it possible for us to live with HIV, we are the leaders of today and tomorrow who must take us the rest of the way. We can make the world better for us all. We need to organize like they did in the 80s, we need to open talks with the Healthcare system. We need them to understand that we are humans, that HIV isn't something to be afraid of, that Universal precautions are all that is needed like with another patient/client/resident.

I know that ACG is going to be active in reaching out to the healthcare system in our area and I want to be a part of it in anyway I can. Having worked as a Personal Support Worker, I can see how the stigma and lack of education I encountered is present in the healthcare system. I believe in putting a face to this disease and telling my story. It will have some impact on changing the stigma and beliefs of many people working in healthcare.

You can find posts by John at PositiveLite here.

Thanks for reading!

Megan

By Church Mouse

The title should have been in capital letters but I do not respect my disease enough to do that. Do you hear me you stupid intruder? You barged your way into my life and that of my partner.You tainted friendships, caused both physical and emotional pain, prayed on our weaknesses, stole our hopes, dreams and our dignity. You stole my opportunity to have children with the man I loved. Cunning and manipulative, always keeping us on our toes. You left a trail of heartache and pain when you stole Gordon and many others from us that loved them. Well AIDS, don't even come looking for me because I have more support, resources and determination to beat you at your own game! You will not win! I will not handle you with kid gloves - you do not deserve it! My Anger may not be good for me but, it only reminds me of the fight I still have left in me.

Please note:I respect those who have changed their lives for the better because of their diagnosis of HIV/AIDS. CM

Hello. A little bit about me.

I live in Guelph Ontario. I’ve lived here happily for seventeen years.

Like anyone in the community I’ve been through struggles and pains anyone can relate to.

I’m happily devoting time to share with you my knowledge about drug addiction, HIV awareness and Hep C. I myself have walked through the doors of the clinics to get tested for STI’s. I’ll be truthful. I was scared sh!tless.

My history of child abuse and psychological abuse really put me into a reality I wanted to escape from. My mistakes in life, I’ve learned from. Today I’m a loving father living in a caring community that supports all beings.

Not ever have I used a syringe on myself. I’ve been around those who have. High off the drugs I preferred. I can relate to that escape feeling. The rush! The world as you know it lies not only as a reality but a fantasy. Who wouldn’t like to take that ride? I would do it all the time if I could. Today my daughter is my first priority. Man, If given a chance to go back, I would. No doubt about it!

A story I would like to share. This woman that I’ve known of had a big heroin addiction. She walked the streets like a god. Having this new boyfriend of hers, she became pregnant in time. "This was not expected” I heard her say quietly, “What should I do?” It was hard because she knew that the heroin will affect the baby inside of her. Imagine that! You can tell that for weeks she tried to clean up her act. Over time she couldn’t resist but to take another blast.

About five months into the pregnancy she had a miscarriage. I was in her presence when she came from the hospital. She was in tears. “I didn’t mean to do this” she said in sorrow. The so called man she was talking to put her down even more. “Those damn drugs, you did this to yourself!” He said with anger. She cried more.

I sat and spoke to her. She said her boyfriend skipped town. I felt he couldn’t live up to the challenge. “Why didn’t you use protection?” I told her. She replied, “it feels better.” I sort of turned a cheek and smiled. I told her “it feels better huh? Try having your boyfriend wrapped up and using a vibrator while you do it.” She looked and smiled at me while clearing the tears from her eyes. “Thank you Myangel20, you know how to make a person feel better.” “Don’t worry, I get a rush from it.” I said in laughter.

This is what ACG has opened me up to. Writing stories and poems that can help your fantasies and wild rides be safe. You’ll hear from me soon with another story to tell. Keep plugged in. You’re in for a ride!

Myangel20

In advance of the (now past) Supreme Court cases heard on Feb. 8th, organizations across Canada and the world called on Canada to stop criminalizing people living with HIV. The statement reads:

Canadian criminal law requires people living with HIV to disclose their status before engaging in behaviour that involves a "significant risk" of transmitting the virus. Yet people have been charged, and convicted for not disclosing their status, even though their activity did not pose a significant risk of HIV transmission.
This is a miscarriage of justice. Further, it has contributed to a climate marked by anxiety, fear, stigma and misinformation that undermines HIV counselling, education and prevention efforts. This puts all Canadians at greater risk.
On February 8, the Supreme Court of Canada will hear two landmark cases on this important issue. We, the undersigned, respectfully ask that the Court use this opportunity to explicitly reconfirm that people living with HIV are not criminals in cases where the threshold of significant risk is not met — including cases where
condoms are used or the HIV positive person was being successfully treated with antiretroviral drugs. We ask that the Court instruct lower courts that significant risk must be determined on the basis of the best available scientific evidence, not on assumptions, prejudice or fear.
Finally, we call on the provincial and territorial Attorneys General to follow suit and adopt guidelines to limit prosecutions in cases of HIV non-disclosure. These prosecutions are not helpful in putting an end to this epidemic, and the radical overextension of the criminal law is counter-productive and damaging.

- The AIDS Committee of Guelph and many others have signed on as signatories to this statement.

The video of the hearings on Feb 8th should be available on the Canadian Supreme Court website sometime tomorrow (March 1st) according to the Supreme Court clerk. The website is here in case you want to view the two cases heard by the Supreme Court ( R. v. Mabior, and R. v. D.C)

 By: Don't Panic

If you would have told me five years ago what I am doing with my life now, I would have laughed in your face. I was hell bent on being out of control. So sure that I would just party my life away, and why couldn't I? I remember waking up one March morning, my throat on fire, dark circles under my eyes, and a headache that no amount of over the counter pills could cure. It was at the end of a very eventful winter, living in a small house with 8 or so other people, having tonsillitis at least 4 times before Christmas, and generally not giving a sh!t about life. I realized then, that life was not what I wanted it to be.

I was sick and tired of being sick and tired!

All through school people told me I could do great things with my life. They said I could be a lawyer, a doctor, a teacher ect.,but none of those things interested me. I didn't like young kids, I hated cops and the court system, and I definitely couldn't handle dealing with other peoples' health problems from a western medicine standpoint.

So I thought about all of the people that I admired, all the people that had made a difference in my life. I had definitely realized at that point that being a whiskey drinker wasn't a great career choice, and I would not work at sh!tty restaurants and convenience stores forever.

I thought about my street mom. The strongest women I've ever met to this day. She spends her days talking to the youth, helping them figure out what they're looking for, feeding the masses, looking out for us, and most importantly… loving us. I thought about my school counselor, the great conversations we had and the things she helped me overcome.

I knew that I wanted to make a difference in someone's life, the way my mentors have made a difference in mine.

So it was decided. I would be a social worker.

For awhile I lingered in this awkward stage where I couldn't go to college yet and I wasn't done being young yet. One of Guelph's youth housing programs started a peer based outreach program and I decided to get involved.

Immediately I knew that I wanted to be an outreach worker. Learning how to make referrals, talking to youth, going to workshops about all the community service providers, it was a dream job come true. But all good things must come to an end, and so did the peer to lead program.

When ACG found me and offered me a position doing peer outreach for the Hep-tonic program, I was thrilled. Finally a chance to put all my knowledge into practice! Ever since I started It's been the most rewarding choice I've made. Going out and talking to people on the street, one on one, providing support and handing out snacks, educating people on how they can protect themselves, talking with other peers about better ways to reach people, it has been fantastic.

All I hope is that in my journey I can make a difference in someone life, the way a few people made a lasting impression on mine.

Don't Panic

 (Continued from Snowbirds, part one)

I was well aware of the U.S. policy that anyone suspected of being HIV positive would be turned back at the border. Therefore I was a bundle of nerves and nauseous in the backseat of my father-in-law's car. All 97 lbs of me was wrapped up in Gordon's winter coat. Joe said "let me do all the talking. Only talk if they ask you a question".

The suspense was killing me. I had been worrying about this since the day I found out I was going. Just before I had left for Florida, my HIV specialist had enrolled me in a drug trial.Previous to this I had thrown my meds in the garbage convinced that they wouldn't work for me either. But... I figured Gordon would want me to give it my best shot. So I gave in. Keep in mind that was '96 and he had been ill three years prior to the new Antiviral drugs that came out. My combination was AZT, Squinivair and DDI. Three times a day, one hour before or two hours after meals.

Florida! I am so happy to be here! First thing, I met the snowbirds (no, not the the ones who fly jets) but a wonderful exuberant bunch of seniors.We played cards, barbequed and one lady showed me how to make a 5x5 inch dress shirt out of five American one dollar bills. It even had a collar. One of the other ladies took me under her wing and told me she was taking me to the straw market. I bought so much stuff - including a set of luggage - that I had to pay $20.00 at the airport because I was over my limit lol.

I ignored the fact that I shouldn't be out in the direct sunlight as one of the med bottles had stated. I soon started to experience strange occurrences with my vision.Walking into the grocery store I notice the words such as Specials, Produce or ice cream would appear to me like this: S e ials,P duce, ce cre m.When I looked at a person the only way I could describe it was... you know on t.v. when they try to hide a persons identity by blurring their face? I was horrified. Later it changed to a shattered glass effect.Lori suggested we go get a drink and sit before we drove home. It seemed to pass and I was able to get us back to the trailer park.

Disneyland was a blast. But my most devastating moment came at the Florida state fair. Joe had wandered off to look in the agriculture building. Lori wanted to sit down and rest a moment so I told her I would be right back and I slipped back to a booth we had passed earlier.Waiting and watching the boisterous young man trying to coax people to let him guess there age or weight. I figured no way would he guess my weight. I was wearing Joe's jacket (because of the weight loss I was feeling cold.) " 97 LBS" says the carnie in front of me. "No way,"  I said,  "I weigh 99lbs!" He replied, "well let's see - get on the scale."

Slowly I return to Lori fighting back the tears."What happened?" Lori asks. I admit to her what I did. She tried to assure me that things would be okay and off we went to see what had Joe's attention.The rest of my trip went by quickly and soon I am back home watching the video of the auction where the chair we calibrated was sold for $75.00. the money donated to my ASO.

CM

 The Dreamer

The first couple of days have come and gone, progress is beginning to override skepticism. Yes, the “Laramie project – 10 years later”. Wow, why am I so excited? Matthew was killed. He was someone’s child that never even saw his 22nd birthday.

‘ON OCTOBER 6, 1998, A GAY UNIVERSITY OF WYOMING STUDENT, MATTHEW SHEPARD, LEFT THE FIRESIDE BAR WITH AARON MCKINNEY AND RUSSELL HENDERSON. THE FOLLOWING DAY HE WAS DISCOVERED AT THE EDGE OF TOWN. HE WAS TIED TO A FENCE, BRUTALLY BEATEN, AND CLOSE TO DEATH.’

I’m trying to convince a friend of mine to audition for a role in the play. One of the roles that still needs to be filled is that of the killer... Go figure. Actually, I personally feel that he is very suited for the role. It’s so strange… a friend portraying a killer? Go big, or go home, is what someone said to me one day.

I love acting; it’s just so strange when it relates to real life situations. When you’re so involved with contemplating sentencing someone to death, the emotions of why, why, why did this have to happen, makes the wounds even deeper. Damn, my son is dead, and you’re looking the killer in the face, so engulfed with hate. Moments like these, become so real inside you, and by the end of the day you’re exhausted.

As I was saying earlier, I struggled with bullying as a youth growing up. My choice to become an artist from the age of 10 certainly was not common, especially for a male to want to become a ballet dancer. A quote from the Detroit newspaper: “he tossed off pirouettes, like kids his age toss snowballs”. This was published when I was about 13 years old, as I was asked to perform in Dance Detroit’s version of the nutcracker from 1976-1980. I managed to survive this in my elementary school years, as my teachers were aware of the bullying, and asked if I wanted to perform a dance number at our grade 8 graduation. I have been so grateful all these yrs, for them suggesting this, as all the students sincerely congratulated me, and all put their words in the program, to apologize for their behaviour… I still have that program to this day.

Unfortunately, this all started over again once I entered into high school. It didn’t help that I was one of, if not the shortest kid entering grade 9. I was better able to handle it though, having said what I just indicated earlier. I have to thank most of my family as well, for understanding and supporting me along the way.

I should mention that I became interested in ballet thanks to a touring group with the National Ballet of Canada that performed at our school in London. I went home that night and informed my parents that I wanted to start dancing. My mother, bless her heart, handed me over the phone book, and said go to it. Fortunately, my first choice was “Dorothy Carter’s School of Dance Arts,” later to become under the direction of her daughter, “Victoria Carter’s London Dance Centre”.

I’m certain we can’t do things alone. I don’t have a direct reason as to why I succeeded as far as I did; only that many loved ones were there when they were needed. Certainly, stubbornness on my part helped, and that even became a deterrent at times.

As I said earlier, this is also why I chose to be part of this play. I’m only hoping that some of my own positive experiences can be shared with those, who may have their own struggles to contend with, in regards to such unfortunate behaviours from others.

Before I close off again for now, I spent the evening with a friend last night and we decided to go to a karaoke bar. To my surprise, this was not the usual country and western style music… I only sung a couple of songs. Garth brooks – If Tomorrow Never Comes, as well as, Frank Sinatra’s My Way. The bar was full of college students, so you can imagine how noisy it was… when I sung My Way, you could almost hear a pin drop. I’ve been singing this song a long time also, as it seems to relate to my life more than one can imagine.

By: Discolemonade

This will be the first blog I have ever written, that has been for anything other than personal venting on social networking sites. Although it feels a little strange, I have always felt more comfortable writing than I ever have speaking aloud. When I write out my thoughts, the paper doesn’t interrupt, the page does not give off body language that it is not listening, it just lets you… go. I don’t even know who will be reading this, but I kind of like that feeling, it makes me feel freer. Without wanting to bore anyone with useless knowledge (which I am full of), I suppose the first stone on which to step would be to tell my story. Well, the quick version. Though I have been breathing only a small handful of years, I have lived a very, very long life.

I grew up in a seemingly normal family. My parents were divorced. Boo-hoo. Whose parents are really together anymore? When I find families whose parents are still happily married I think to myself, “how retro.” So I guess when I say I grew up in a normal family that would be entirely correct. There were custody battles, there was addiction, there was abuse, there was fighting, there were doors being slammed and tears being shed. So yeah, pretty normal standard stuff. At least that’s what I always thought.

I was always the most messed up, but always the least willing to admit it. I mastered the art of shoving things down, burying them really deep so nobody could find them, not even me. I know how to hide what I’m really feeling, like nobody’s business. That really worked for me for awhile. I just really wanted to be a normal kid, to feel normal and to do normal things. But after awhile, normal teenage activities stopped being able to distract me from my sadness and pain. I needed something stronger. I needed something that would REALLY distract me. I couldn’t get that feeling out of me. I just always felt empty and didn’t know why. It was ALWAYS there, that empty feeling. So, I began seeking out distractions.

These distractions can come from anywhere. It can be drugs, it can be music, it can be sex, it can even be cheetos, or an obsession with china dolls. I chose drugs. I don’t even remember at what point I really fully gave in to that world and said, “I’m gonna do this”, but I did. I fell hard and fast, as if I had sold my soul to the devil. I gave up everything I ever cared about. I quickly gave up anything that had ever mattered to me in search of the magical substance that would take away that empty feeling I had carried for so many years.

Ironically, plunging myself in to a reality I wasn’t prepared to handle only gave me more memories and confusing emotions which made the empty feeling grow at an exponential rate. There are so many things inside my head I wish I hadn’t seen. I put myself in a lot of dangerous situations. Unsafe living conditions, stuff with cops, I put my health at risk and my rights at risk. I did many things I am ashamed of, and I let other people do things that I feel I should have stopped them from doing. I carry a lot of weight on my shoulders for the events which happened during those few years. I put my family through a lot. I almost lost myself completely.

The good news is, I met some pretty amazing people along the way. I found a new kind of family. I found comfort in finding people that were like me. We never talked about the empty feeling, but I sensed they had experienced something similar. I had found a place in the world where I was never judged for being weird. In fact, I was embraced for it. I have been through a lot with these people. They have saved me in ways of which they are probably not even aware of. I feel this way also about many of the old staff at “Change Now”, the youth drop in center/shelter that unexpectedly closed down in June 2007. That place was like my second home during some of my darkest days. There was a sense of love there, a sense of care, and for those of us who weren’t getting it anywhere else, there was always a dinner at 6.

to be continued...

By: Discolemonade 

from LIFE'S LITTLE TREASURE BOOK... ON HOPE. H.JACKSON BROWN JR.

Our local ASO was hosting their annual Chairs For Charity auction in Feb.'97. I felt I wanted to do something in Gordon's memory. So I approached my father-in-law Joe with an idea. He was totally on board .I now needed to acquire a chair we could use as our canvas. Racing up to my parent's home to scrounge around, my mother suggested that there were two chairs in one of the unused back rooms upstairs. Perfect! They had belonged to a set that was from the 1920s. They had a home in my great grandparents house until they somehow wound up in our farmhouse.What a great find! Joe couldn't wait to get started He whisked it off to have it stripped, while Lori, my mother-in-law, and I made plans for our up coming trip to Florida.(I was driving down with her and Joe and flying back in a week.)as they were staying much longer. When Joe returned, off we went to Lens Mills to get some patterned fabric for the seat. It was off-white with red roses and green leaves. It turned out the the chair was walnut and in good shape. Joe stenciled "EVEN HEROES NEED TO REST "on the front of the chair. I was sent out to get varnish, and when I got back he had added something to the back of the chair. I asked why the intertwining roses? He replied, "they represent the love you and my son had for each other." AWWWWWWWWWWWWW. Okay, after I put the varnish on, the chair is ready. One problem: the auction is halfway through my trip to Florida. So my sisters Beth and Val will drop it off and return for the auction. They will take the video camera.

To be continued........

I would like to take this opportunity to introduce ACG's newest blog section "Youth Corner" These blogs will feature today's youth. They will be talking about drugs, addiction, outreach, testing, youth on the streets, poverty and every day struggles. Our first bloggers for this section are, "Discolemonade" and "Don't Panic" I really think you will like reading their posts. Enjoy!

Cassandra Sheppard
Hepatitis C Outreach Coordinator 

I'm sitting alone in the Queen Street Commons Café downtown Kitchener, ON.. With respect to turning 50 yrs old this year, I ponder why I haven’t settled down with someone, and am planning for the next 50 yrs. It’s not too late, I keep telling myself, and still I’m sitting here alone. In a couple of days I begin rehearsals for the Laramie Project – 10 yrs later. With the reality of playing Matthew’s Father, trying to convince people of this, is what’s churning in my mind. Being a healthy, vibrant, actively searching and happy-go-lucky kind of guy, I’m still sitting here alone.
There’s an incredibly gorgeous guy that sits beside me. Should I indulge in conversation? I remember this guy from sitting on a park bench downtown, one day last summer, drinking my coffee and smoking my cigarette. (So much for that idea, as a couple of friends of his just came in and sat down, I’m still sitting here alone.)

I never even thought I would see 35 yrs of age, after having been diagnosed HIV+ when I was 31. This was an incredible turning point in my life, as I had just retired from a 17 yr career as a performing artist (classical ballet dancer). With turning 50 this yr, I am so so grateful for the friends I’ve made along this HIV journey, and you all know who you are. As an artist of any sort, especially one that is so physically demanding, you all of sudden become aware of getting older, and having to retire at an age where, it is extremely difficult to find other work, for some, in a totally foreign profession. I certainly will blog about these adventures, hopefully in the near future.

I would like to take this time to express my thanks to a couple of people, who have deeply inspired me to take on this blogging. Support services at ACG – AIDS COMMITTEE of GUELPH for asking me to jump on board, as well as Church Mouse, for your long-time friendship and compassion, to take this on for yourself, and encourage me to do the same through your own words… again, thanks guys.

 The Dreamer

As I wrote in my last post, I’m currently now undertaking 3 roles in the production. Below I have shared some quotations from the script, to give you an idea of the roles I’ve be chosen for in the “Laramie Project – 10 years later”.

Please note – any sentences or paragraphs in "quotations" are quotes taken directly from the script... again thank-you, and I hope you all enjoy as we go.

My role as Dennis Shepard – (Matthews’ Father)
“My son Matthew did not look like a winner. He was rather uncoordinated and wore braces from the age of 13 until the day he died. However, in his all too brief life he proved that he was a winner. On October 6, 1998, my son tried to show the world that he could win again. On October 12, 1998, my first born son, and my hero, lost. On October 12,1998, my first born son, and my hero, died, 50 days before his 22nd birthday.”

My role as Dave O’Malley – (Retired Laramie police officer - Lead Investigator) on the Matthew Shepard case
“Well, I tell you what, we now have the AIDS Walk here in Laramie, it’s in its 6th year, OK? And its grown. Last year we raised around $22,000 dollars. And $5,000 dollars at drag queen bingo alone! I mean we had drag queens at the Cowboy Bar. Jim and Jason and Travis and they put on just a great production you know. Yeah, at the Cowboy Bar!”

My role as Matt Michelson – (Former owner of the Fireside Bar)
“Yeah, I had to sell the Fireside. On one side people were like, 'Local Gay Bar' and then on the other they’re like, 'Crazy Red-neck Gay Slayers!' For seven years---I tried to ride that shit out. I did eight hundred and some thousand dollars in sales that year that Matt was killed. The next year I did forty three thousand, crushed me. I had put that shit up for sale.”

I’ve chosen to blog about the ‘Laramie Project – 10 years later’, as I feel Matthews’ life should always be remembered. I know nothing about Matthew, and I’ve never acted in a play with such content of information, that makes you feel so overwhelmed with emotion and emptiness. This certainly would not have been a choice of Matthews’, to have been brutally murdered, may he rest in peace. There are many tragic events that take place in life as we all know, however, I don’t believe there are words to describe a persons’ fate brought on by someone else of this magnitude. It certainly is not my intent to distinguish between right or wrong, defend or criticize, and there have already been many occasions why I feel I’m even undertaking if you will, this role towards trying to make sense of it all.

With respect to all of this, my hope is that the Shepard Family will always carry with them, the undying love and support that has come out of this tragedy.

Again, Matthew – may you REST IN PEACE

The Dreamer

Greetings Everyone,

Let me introduce myself as "The Dreamer…" I found the name fitting, simply because I suppose a perfect existence for myself and others is ultimately what I seek in life. There’s no chance of that I know, but keep on dreaming, I tell myself.

"Is the love I gave her in the past / going to be enough to last / If Tomorrow Never Comes”…Garth Brooks. I sing this song a lot at karaoke.

I’m a male resident of Kitchener, ON, having moved here from my hometown London, ON in 1995. I’m a long-time volunteer with an AIDS organization, as well as a client, as I was diagnosed HIV+ in 1993. I also do volunteer work for an HIV/HEPC Specialist, who said to me one day, "why don’t you write a book." I suppose by blogging, it’s a start to that adventure.

I’m currently undertaking a couple of roles in the ‘LARAMIE PROJECT – 10 years later’. I will be blogging about my experiences with this production. I chose to be part of this play to show my own undying respect, for a young gentleman – Matthew Shepard, who only wanted to show the world who he really was. I’m certain that Matthew's life, as short as it was, will never be forgotten. These types of injustices and cruelty to mankind as a whole, just shows us how vulnerable this world is to meaning nothing. Also, this production, being held at the bar SIZZLE in Cambridge, ON, in the end of April, 2012, strives to focus on essential concerns towards bullying, that affect so many of us, especially amongst the youth in society. This is something that hits home for me, as I was bullied most of my elementary school years.

Please note: The members of the Tectonic Theatre Group gathered the information and created the play, which is being graciously directed and hosted by the owners of SIZZLE.

Note: ACG's new Hep-tonic blog  posts will be available here on our community blog. They are also available at the Hep-tonic blog page .

I would like to take this opportunity to introduce the Hep-tonic blog. The first Hep-tonic bloggers are Ruby Tuesday and Taboo. They will be sharing their personal stories on: their struggles with addictions, growing up, and living with Hep C. I really think that you will enjoy reading their stories. I know I have!   Cassandra Sheppard Hepatitis C Outreach Coordinator