Before and After: Life Before and After Hiv

By Southern Belle

No matter how many mountains you may have to climb in life, please know that life is worth living. Never give up! Keep chugging along, and one day you will be able to say I made it! Hopefully, some of the lessons I have learned in my journey through life will help you in your journey as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 2, 2015
• ISBN: 9781504952507

Southern Belle

My life has been filled with losses and traumas since I was a teenager. I have been in and out of two mental institutions, twelve-step programs, and treatment programs/centers; all of which have taught me a lot about life and myself. I feel that I am qualified to share my experiences, strengths, and hopes so that others might live. I am a sixty-six-year-old great-grandmother that has been living with HIV since October 1989 (twenty-six years). I am currently living in the Southern part of my country. I had three sons, of which two are still living, six siblings of which I only have two still alive. I was born on the west coast of my country while my dad was stationed in the military. I was six months old when I was taken by my grandmother to my home state until dad was discharged a few weeks later. I have four grandchildren, one great-grandson and two godsons. I love them all with all of my heart. I live life with a passion and do my best to keep a positive attitude. Life is worth living. I am not ashamed about living with HIV. I consider myself an HIV/AIDS activist and advocate. I hold my head up high and walk tall because God has helped me to know that I am okay because He does not make junk.

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© 2015 Southern Belle. All rights reserved.

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Published by AuthorHouse    10/01/2015

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5251-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5049-5250-7 (e)

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CONTENTS

BEFORE

(PART I)

AFTER

(PART II)

BEFORE

(PART I)

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M y life has been like a rollercoaster ride – a lot of ups and downs. If you have ever been on a rollercoaster, think about how hard it works to get to the top of a hill. It makes so much noise just trudging the best it can to get to the top only to plunge downward when it finally reaches its goal.

I have gone most of my life like the little red engine that had to learn eight simple words – I think I can, I think I can - even when I didn’t believe I could.

My life has had more downs than ups. I have been through a lot of valleys and very few mountaintops. I can honestly say that I have learned that it is in the valleys that one can really grow.

Think about it. Ever see green grass or trees at the top of a mountain? If you have, it is more and likely they are far and in-between. More chances than any, you will see snowcapped mountains. It is in the valleys where you will find the pretty plants, grass, trees, etc. As much as I hate being in the valley, I have come to realize that the valley is where I have grown the most.

I have spent my life trying my best to get to the top of the mountain (like a rollercoaster) only to plunge into despair. Like a rollercoaster ride at an amusement park, the rides in my life would come to an end only to be reloaded; and, whether or not I wanted to, the journey to the top would start all over again.

~~~~~~

My life began on June 30th, 1949 where Dad was stationed while in the Navy. That day was also my parents’ first wedding anniversary. I lived where Dad was stationed for the first six months of my life and returned to my home state before Dad was discharged from the Navy. Dad used to tell me that he thought he wanted a son for his first child until he held me in his arms for the first time. He said his love for me grew and grew over the years.

As much as I loved my dad, something inside of me always felt he continued to be disappointed in me for not being a son. My grandmother (dad’s mom) came to where I was born and brought me back to my family’s home state as an infant. Until 20+ years ago I had grown up thinking my parents had given me away. I had harbored some deep-rooted resentment and never realized it until I was in therapy. I talked to my mother about them sending me to my home state and giving me to my grandparents when I was an infant. She asked me where in the world I got such an idea that they gave me to my grandparents. I said I have no idea but have always thought so but never asked. She told me that I had developed pneumonia and since dad was being discharged from the Navy in a few weeks that the doctors felt it would be better for me to go to my family’s home state by train instead of flying or even riding in a car. She said I was only away from them just for a couple weeks. She also told me that dad was never disappointed that I wasn’t a boy. He was so proud of me all of my life and that I needed to let that idea go as well. It is amazing how our minds play tricks on us even as toddlers and can affect us for a lifetime.

~~~~~~

I am the oldest of seven children - four boys and three girls. I was the only child not born in my family’s home state. My siblings teased me most of my life for not being born in the same state as they were.

My childhood was pretty much a normal childhood. I remember family picnics, going to the church where I had my first communion, making houses in the schoolyard or at home out of moss, playing regular childhood games like jump rope, hide and seek, red-rover red-rover, simon says, jacks, hopscotch, going to the movies, going to football games with my uncle, and sock hops (dances) when I was nine.

~~~~~~

The first up-hill climb in my life was when I was nine-years-old. My Mom and Dad were invited to attend a church and within a few months both Dad and Mom became ordained ministers in the church. From that moment in time, my life became one of strictness. I wasn’t allowed to go to any more sock hops, football games, play any kind of game that had dice or cards in it (including Monopoly or Go Fish), no picture shows, no TV, listen only to gospel music on the radio, and so forth. Everything became a sin because it was of the world.

Mom was the strictest of my parents when it came to religion. She would always remind us that as preacher kids (P.K.’s), we had to set examples for the others in the church. In fact, a lot of the things that were so-called sin were not sins in my Dad’s mind. We were taught it was wrong to cut our hair, wear jewelry, plaid our hair, or wear pants because it contradicted with scriptures. I wasn’t allowed to play sports in school because I would have to wear pants. My siblings and I would often spend the night with other kids we knew in the church or school. We would sneak off to watch TV or go swimming with friends when we stayed overnight if there was a TV or a swimming hole (a bayou) nearby. We spent time doing what was wrong in the church’s eyes. However, we had a lot of fun being sneaky and doing things we were not supposed to do because we were taught that everything was a sin.

I remember wanting to go on my first date when I was 15. We wanted to go play miniature golf. It was going to be a double date. My Mom said no because they sold beer at the golf course (same with bowling). I went to Dad and asked him to talk to Mom since Dad did not see where playing miniature golf was wrong. He talked my Mom into letting me go. I had a blast.

~~~~~

We had all kind of faith in my Dad when he prayed. We saw all kinds of miracles when Dad prayed (i.e. the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk and very sick people healed of their infirmities).

Once, my baby brother and baby sister had a guinea pig that was attacked by our dog. They went to my Dad to ask him to pray for their pet. One had their pet’s head in her hands and the other had its body in his hands. Dad looked at them and said he had all kinds of faith but not enough to bring that little guinea pig back to life. Of course, the kids were crushed, said they understood (which they didn’t), and helped Dad bury their guinea pig in the back yard.

We were always in church. Dad became an evangelist. He held a lot of tent and church revivals. Mom and Dad traveled around our home state holding revivals. While my parents were away, we stayed with my grandparents (Dad’s) or my aunt (Dad’s sister). I met my first boyfriend at one of his revivals. I had my first kiss by a boy during that revival when he walked me from the church to the parsonage. I liked it. We became long distance boyfriend and girlfriend. We wrote to each other often and exchanged gifts for Valentine’s, Christmas, etc. He sent me a Dear John letter a year later. Ouch, my heart was broken!

~~~~~

My grandparents and my aunt were the ones to help me with my school work. I loved school and really enjoyed reading until I got in the upper grades when I had to start describing plots, etc. for grades on what I read. We moved around a lot. When I actually took time to add up all of the schools I attended from the first to twelve grades, I discovered I went to a total of 24 schools. I attended the same school for a whole year in the 1st, 8th, 9th and 12th grades which meant I went to two or three different schools a year for the other grades. No wonder I couldn’t keep friends and became a loner at an early age. My siblings and two cousins were my friends. We were a very close-knit family.

~~~~~

Another mountain in my life happened when I was 15-yrs-old. We often had a family prayer and bible study on Wednesday nights when Mom and Dad were home from one of their revivals. One Wednesday in 1964, all of us kids were telling Dad how we all wanted to grow up to be ministers like him. We wanted Dad to be the one to marry us, baptize our children, and so on. We even said if something happened to any of us we wanted him to be the one to bury us. We went on and said that if he passed away one of us would be the one to bury him.

Two days later, my two oldest brothers (ages 14 and 12) left to collect on their paper route. They would always stop by our grandparents for lunch at noon. However, this day they didn’t show up. Around 1:30pm, my grandmother called Dad and asked if the boys were home but they weren’t. By 3:00pm and still no word from them, panic hit our home. Dad was a radio dispatcher for a police department when he was not in a revival. He called the local police department but they couldn’t do anything since the boys were not missing for 24 hours. Dad then called the local radio station and told them about the boys being missing and how this was not like them. He gave the radio station the boys’ descriptions and the radio station began to broadcast asking the public to call if anyone had seen the boys or their bikes. Around 5:00pm someone called stating that there were two bikes, as described, down on the banks of a bayou.

The radio station called and talked to Dad. He left to check out the bayou where the bikes were found with the police department. The bikes did belong to my brothers. They found skid marks on the bank as if someone had slipped in and it wasn’t long before they began to dredge the bayou.

I remember Dad returning home from the search and telling us that the boys were found. He had a big smile on his face when he walked into living room. Since my dad was smiling we were waiting for them to come in right after Dad but they didn’t. When we realized they were not coming home and what it really meant, we asked Dad why in the world was he was smiling. He then explained about how they had to stop a large barge from passing through. He said if the barge had gone through the area where the boys was found they have been buried deep and would have never been found – hence his smile.

To this day we do not really know what happened but there have been many speculations about what may have happened. What we do know is that my youngest brother was in the water a lot longer than my oldest brother which could only mean one thing. My oldest brother died trying to find or save my younger brother. My 14-yr-old brother was a much better swimmer than my 12-yr old brother because of the times we all used to sneak off to go swimming.

~~~~~

The morning the boys left I heard all kinds of noise. I yelled at them to be quite! It was a Saturday morning and I wanted to sleep late. They were rearranging their bedroom. That night as I was lying in their bed with my grandmother because other family members were in my bedroom, I realized they were never coming back.

My oldest brother was a special brother. He would always take the blame and/or spankings for things any of us would do. We would feel terrible afterwards for him but we always allowed it. Then, when Dad found out who the true culprit was, we would all still get a spanking and a major chewing out for allowing our brother to take the blame.

The night they drowned I went to sleep asking God – why? I had a dream that has stayed with me. It has helped me with other losses in my life. I would like to share that dream now.

I had just been spanked by my grandfather for something I did. It was early in the morning. I ran out of the house screaming, crying, and wishing my brother was there to take my whipping. I threw myself on the ground and started throwing a fit like a two-year-old. My cousin touched me on my shoulder. I told her to leave me alone. She then said, Dee, look who is here. It is the boys (my brothers). I called her a liar and said they were dead and never coming back. Then, I felt another hand on my shoulder and heard my oldest brother say. It is true Dee. We are here! I looked up and asked, How can that be? Ya’ll died and are supposed to be in Heaven? He then said that Jesus knew we were missing them and how much they were missing us. Jesus said they could come and play with us any time they wanted to. So play we did. We played hide and seek, jump rope, red-rover red-rover and any other game we could think of. We played from early morning until sundown.

At sundown, my brother put his hand on my shoulder and said, Well, it is time for us to go. I said, ok, ya’ll are gonna come back and play with us tomorrow, aren’t you? He then said, No. I said, "But, I thought Jesus said you could come and play with us anytime you