This week was a whole bag of emotions. I think there was some part of me that forgot
just how many people would read my blog.
I guess I underestimated how many actually did…
I began writing last week’s post on April 14th in the
hopes of posting it ON 4/15…but damn that 20 page final school paper I had to
complete. All the better, though; it
gave me a few days to sit back and mull things over and get my story right.
After re-reading what I wrote, it’s easy for me to think of what I
didn’t write - The memories and experiences I went through over the past 7
years; the few I nervously shared my story with; the multitude of feelings I
encountered (some for the first time). My brain becomes overwhelmed with all of
this. Perhaps it’s because each memory
and experience I went through made me a little stronger without realizing it.
Those who know me well know that I often put other people in front
of me and their feelings in front of my own.
When telling my (any) story, I often go to that place where I feel like
everyone needs to know the entire story in order to get it. For one of the first times, I didn’t feel
like I needed to tell my entire story.
Words cannot begin to express my gratitude and appreciation for the FB
posts, messages, texts, emails, phone calls I’ve received this past week. Many friends have said “I didn’t know...” or
“why didn’t you tell me?” I can understand these expressions being meant as
supportive, however, this is my story.
And it’s a difficult story to tell…and re-tell. I know how this happened to me…but I also
know how ahead of this I’ve been.
Believe me when I say there is no greater reminder for me than the pill
I take each night before bed. My T-cells
are high (780) and my viral load is undetectable. This part has been constant throughout the
years. The health side of things is not
one I’m worried about. As I’ve said
before, the emotional side is what’s been the uphill battle. I feel as though, I’ve hit the summit.
While this experience is certainly one that moves me ahead in life,
I am thankful I am not going back. A
great friend of mine from NYC recently reminded me of the person I was while
not dealing with my truth – a shell of a person – and the evolution of the
person I am today. It wasn’t until I
was living in NYC in 2011 that I began to understand how much I pushed away
dealing with all of this. I remember I
was newly dating someone. It was
exciting. It was something/someone I
thought was “promising” and wanted so much to happen. One day, over breakfast, I recall he and I
speaking about him moving 4 hours away for his job. Sad to hear this news, I thought to myself “phew
– I don’t have to tell him. This is my
out. He’s moving so I guess this can be
a clean break.” Later that day, we hung
out again. He spoke the words I
strangely dreaded: “I want to try and make this work.” It was then when I had to confront my
demons. I knew I was risking losing him
in this disclosure. In hindsight, I
can’t help but think and feel that it may not have been so much the disclosure that turned
things away of something potential - so much as my lack of self-esteem, shame
and guilt that I carried. However, this is my side. Not his. I can't imagine what he went through. (I've often wondered...but it's inconsequential at this point). It was the first time I felt like I let myself down...and a first time - in a long time - when I felt like I let someone else down. I realized
then that I needed to start dealing with this.
I was at a standstill.
Going back to 2008, I’ll never forget calling my Dad each one of my
siblings to tell them this news. Each
phone call was a different set of nerves for me, a different way to approach
disclosure -- as I paced my LA apartment.
It’s funny. Thinking back, I can
remember my French door windows open to my courtyard and how bright the sun
appeared on my wood floor. Surprisingly,
each sibling answered my phone call – as if they were almost waiting to hear
from me. I can recall wanting to tell them because I didn’t want to mourn this
over and over. I will admit there was
some part of me that hoped each phone call would turn into a voicemail. Each
one of them was in shock … but told me it would be ok. One of my brothers said it best: “Timmy – this could’ve been me.” And at that moment, I thought to myself: wow – he gets it. I don’t have to explain this to him.
Dad is another story. He
loved me and supported me no matter what I did.
He wouldn’t end a phone call without saying “I love you!” I know he
battled his feelings with all of this.
He needed Terri and my Mom and siblings to be his sounding board in
battling his emotions with everything about me.
There was so much of him that loved me and other equal parts that
worried for and about me. In so many
ways, I see myself in him…and sometimes it’s scary. J
Summer of 2008. I was in NYC
working on a TV show. I flew to Chicago
for the weekend to attend a wedding on Saturday, 7/26. I hadn’t seen my family since Christmas. This may have been the longest stretch of
time I went without visiting home. Usually,
I flew home every 6-8 weeks. Thinking
back, I remember how busy I was with work…but part of me can’t help but feel as
though I was subconsciously avoiding them moreso that I didn’t have to worry
anyone. My brother, Marty, hosted a last
minute BBQ on Sunday, 7/27 to gather everyone together before I left back for
NYC that evening. Mom, Dad, and 4 of the
5 siblings and in-laws were there. I
remember feeling as though everyone was being someone cautious around me. Perhaps it was the opposite – me being
cautious around them. Not much was said
about my diagnosis throughout the day, but I could tell there was a collective
“sigh of relief” from my family to see that I was healthy and okay. Dad drives me to the airport. When I get in his car, I collapse. Bent over with my head between my knees and
crying, I can feel my Dad rubbing my back and telling me “it’s okay.” The emotions caught up with me. In the midst of all of this, I forget my
wallet back at my brothers. We turn
around. (Anyone who knows me gets the
comedy behind leaving my wallet places. I hate sitting on it!!) When I get back to my brother’s, my mom and
sister are sitting on the stairs leading up to the house – visibly red-faced. We share a laugh about my wallet and another
hug goodbye. Calmer now, Dad and I talk
more en-route to ORD. We make plans for
him to visit me in NYC before I head back to LA in September. He tells me he’s going golfing with buddies
the next day…but he’ll check his calendar and call me to coordinate schedules. What I didn’t know is that we would lose him
that next day – while on his golf-trip.
What I’m grateful for is that time with him.
We all have our own stories, our own issues, our own truths. Over the years, I’ve learned that courage and
bravery come in many forms. From
soldiers in our Armed Forces to our moms & dads, to children fighting
cancer…even to Bruce Jenner. Nothing lasts for long. We are all
brave…we just need to find it within us.
While raising more money for my ride was not my intention with my
“coming out,” I’m very proud to announce that – this week, alone – I’ve raised
over $1750….bringing my grand total to $6,250.
I cannot thank everyone enough for their love and support. It means the world to me. It helps my training to be easier.
Shout outs to all my recent donors will be forthcoming.
Thank you, again, for reading my story. You all keep me moving forward – in so many
ways!
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