I am angry about it.

I don’t know how to be a good sick person. Do you know what I mean? The Lifetime movie person who charms everyone with their humor when they are at their worst. They seem to intuitively adjust to the feelings of others and make that the priority. That is not me right now.

Trigger Warning: If it is hard to hear expressions of anger, then you should not read this post.

I thought it might help to write it out but I’m afraid to do that. First, I don’t want to spiral into anger. It doesn’t feel safe to be angry right now. What I mean is it doesn’t feel safe for others to experience my anger right now. I know because it comes up and I sense their reaction. It’s natural. No blame. I’m scared to be angry too and I am also angry about it as well.

It’s just mini eruptions, but the deeper vein isn’t satiated by little releases. If anything, I end up dialoguing myself into a spiral about how inappropriate I was and “what was I thinking, so…”. Yeah. I read online this is a potential side effect of the medicines and I am not comforted. My emotions are so exaggerated. I hear all these queens talkin’ how pillz gonna’ save us all. Well, I am not having that experience so far. Apparently, I have a tax to pay first. The tax is steep and I am angry about it.

I am a joy to be around right now. I’m the anti Mary Poppins. You tell me something logical and with a hint of joy and I will shoot it down in flames. I am inconsolable and I don’t feel anything like myself. It feels like my body is rejecting me. I am seeking answers through my artwork, but it is a battle between my mental desire and my physical ability to accomplish tasks. I need a ven diagram for when the physical energy, mental depression, desire to exist crossover to a space of creativity. It’s so random at the moment and I am angry about it.

Don’t get me wrong. I am tired as FUCK but I have not given up. All I want to do is give up. I have dreams where I don’t take the medicines and I have a joyous 6 months of art creating and then boom. Gone. No pain. No suffering. Too easy and so unfair for …todos. It’s fair to say I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. I know it will change. I am getting help and asking for help.

See there I go, making you feel better about how shitty I feel right now.

My HIV. Let me tell you mine does not look as good as those in the ads for Truveda at the moment. I missed the PREP train, pero no pasa nada. That culture terrifies me. I hear there is potential for me to have a normal life again so I keep plotting forward. Plotting forward makes me angry. I have a sensation time is moving so slowly because I don’t feel better. I also have the sensation time is moving rapidly and I will not make all the art I want to make, or all the connections to people I want to make, and then I get into a panic attack. So, yeah I am just not ‘there’ yet. Click. Silence. I am so grateful for “my HIV. It’s a gift.” I am not. I am angry about it.