Charlotte Kennedy

Up Close & Personal with Charlotte

My name is Charlotte. I am a 34 year old, happily divorced, “single” mother with HIV. I have had HIV for about 5 or 6 years now (estimated time by doctor), but reality didn’t really take hold until last year. Everyone wonders how you got HIV. I wonder why it really matters. To me it doesn’t. I’d rather look at what I’m going to do with myself now. I feel that is a personal question, one that you just don’t go around asking because some have made so many changes in their lives, that it doesn’t matter how. Some have gotten it from drug use, some from having many sexual partners and so on. Truth is I got it from my partner, my fiancé (whom I am no longer with), but I don’t hold it against him. It is what it is, I have my own life now and I don’t hate him. I’ve been taking medication for the last 6 months or so. My niece had AIDS and I saw how it destroyed her, so I decided to go on medication for myself and for those around me that I love. I didn’t want to infect my partner and I want to live long enough to see my grandchildren grow up.

I love to laugh, play my keyboard, enjoy blogging, writing poetry, painting, listening to all different types of music, watching movies, spending time in nature (whether it be camping, fishing, or going for a walk), mostly spending time with my family and negative partner (he’s amazing!) and so much more. I am a secret advocate for those with HIV. Secret because I do it often for those I met in need online. I am currently going to go through the steps for peer counseling, which I am very excited about. I also love animals, although currently do not own any (big sniffle, big sigh!) I am excited to offer my little story, my journey, if it can inspire anyone to keep pushing forward while living with this “gift”.

I am excited to offer my little story, my journey, if it can inspire anyone to keep pushing forward while living with this “gift”.

A Day in the Life of  My Body

Well, well, here I am, sipping my coffee and trying to figure out where to introduce my journey with you. I think I need to touch on my beginnings to show you how nutty my life has been,

I guess I was born to be different, a fighter, a little special. I was born at Camp Pendleton. My father was off being an ass somewhere, getting dishonorably discharged. I was shuffled around with family. Up until the age of five, I lived a life many would not believe. I remember climbing apple trees to shake down the yellow apples, watching my rabbit get its head cut off and having to eat it for dinner. I don’t remember much good, but I remember a lot of bad. That idea a child doesn’t remember much of their childhood is a lie. Some things I wish I didn’t remember. Like seeing my puppy’s heads cut off, blood pooled around their heads as their lifeless bodies swung in the air, hog tied to a clothing line. I remember my mother getting beat senseless by my stepfather, to the point of unconsciousness or until she was throwing up blood. I remember going on stealing sprees, drug deals, shady characters, and fights. I remember the abuse, from mental, emotional, physical and sexual. I was taken to a police station and dropped off. I wasn’t wanted anymore.

I lived with several foster families. I have great memories of those. Mostly of being allowed to be in nature, take care of horses, poking the pig with a stick, playing chicken with the bull through a field (we weren’t supposed to), jumping into bales of hay, finding baby mice and hearing the tiny squeaks come from their pink withering bodies. Playing with the dogs and the love and care the foster families showed me.

I was adopted when I was 8. I swear I tortured my family, but they loved me. They gave me opportunities I never would have had elsewhere. I went to camps and learned music. I loved playing the piano, singing, playing the flute. Church and God were a huge part of my life and my faith helped me out during those times.

I went on to college, a virgin and left shortly after much partying and no longer a virgin. I had great times, fun times, and didn’t really care much. I had been kept on a tight leash and the freedom was too much for me. I wanted to experience everything and neglected the important things. During these times, I had sex, enjoyed it, and loved it! Nor did I protect myself. I went on to living by myself and being a bit of a wild child. I partied but kept it to just drinking and smoking cigarettes and tried weed. How I avoided getting HIV then, I don’t know. One day I ran into a neighbor. Within a few months I was pregnant with his child and we got an apartment together. We got married not soon after that. We had two boys together and he regained custody of his daughter. Honestly, out of that 7 years of marriage, there were maybe only 3 months of good. There was constant arguing, both verbal and physical fights, the mental and emotional abuse were enough to drive a person mad. I nearly did go crazy. I was glad when the marriage ended.

I was faithful in my marriage. I also was faithful with the next man in my life. Yet, I ended up contracting HIV from having sex with someone I was in a relationship with. That day was hard. “Who is going to want a broke ass, single mother with HIV?” I thought my dating life ended. I will admit I am the sort of person that likes to have a person in their life on a daily basis. Oh, being single can be fun, liberating, blah, blah, blah. But, I like to cuddle god damn it! I like to laugh and share experiences with another person. I love just having someone around. I didn’t want to grow old alone. I wanted someone to be there, to hold my hand as we walked down the street, tenderly kiss me as I do the dishes, someone to tell me to buck it up when I felt sorry for myself or to knock it off when I’m PMS'ing. I was sure that no man would want to deal with that. I didn’t realize there were other men out there with HIV and the stigma is so great that I figured any negative dude would want nothing to do with me. I was crushed. Oh, I knew I’d live long, there were meds, I was educated enough, but to be single and alone with this, no love life, no sex, no hugs, no good morning bad breath kisses. I felt empty, dull and scared.

Not only that, but I felt like I was in a private bubble. I took the bus, went for a walk, looking all around me. Who else has it? If someone like me got it, there has to be so many more. Who doesn’t know they got it? Like dead people walking, walking with death coursing through their veins, not knowing or maybe they do know. All I knew, I wanted to reach in deep and just pull the nasty tainted shit out of me. I felt gross, tainted, and alone. I was afraid that somehow, someway I might give it to my son. Only my youngest lived with me at the time, the older son was sent to live with his dad due to his aggressive behavior. I tried for years but couldn’t get him help. It was the last option, NOT a soul, an agency would help me. My youngest was all I had left in this world and I let him down. I couldn’t tell anyone. I was already the black sheep of my family; this would be the final straw. I didn’t want to kill myself, but my self-worth and dignity dropped to a new all-time low. I didn’t want to live, not like this.

I had to tell my boyfriend. He had to go get tested. It put our new budding relationship on the rocks. I couldn’t take his silence, I wanted him to decide whether he was going to be with me or not. I didn’t want to continue the relationship and then 6 months later decide he couldn’t handle it. It would drive me batty. Wasn’t fair to pressure him like that, but I did. Eventually we broke up for a while. My mind wasn’t right. His mindset wasn’t either, he wasn’t ready or sure what he wanted for long term and my mind was in left field anyways. Waves of an odd depression washed. I call it the HIVies or the numbs. You don’t want to kill yourself but you don’t really have the will to live. You create this fake shell and live in it. You continue to smile, converse, listen to others and their trivial issues, you cook, you clean and go about your daily living. Yet, deep inside you’re not happy, you feel almost numb.

I don’t know what took me out of that slump. Self-pity. Maybe it was a lot of thinking alone at night; maybe it was looking at my kids and wanting to be there for them. Perhaps, it was the support of others like me I found online. I was once told I should charge for my “services”. Me online or on the phone, helping others with HIV to combat depression or drug relapse, get help and services for anything from lawyers, to doctors, to support, financial needs and so on. My boyfriend and I got back together. He is negative to this day and a wonderful support. He’s my soul mate and I’m so lucky to find a man so understanding, loving and filled with knowledge.

Eventually I had the strength to come out and disclose my status to my family and friends. That has empowered me and I think my next story will be about that. It was incredibly hard, yet liberating. So what now? What am I doing? I take every opportunity to teach others about HIV, help both positive and negative people. I get burned often though and it disheartens me from time to time, yet I keep doing it. I am no longer working and have applied for disability. Yet, every day, I laugh and I smile. That is what matters to me. To continue to smile and laugh, to live. I live by, “Each day is a new day.” You can continue climbing upwards. You can continue to live strong. I am a mother, a lover; I’m sexy, beautiful, good and strong. No one can take those things away from me. Not even HIV. I see HIV as a gift. It has made me stronger and look at life differently. I look back at my chaotic life and see where I am today. Not many can go through all that and stand here and tell you they would not change a thing in their life. I am one of those people. And…one more thing. It’s just my belief, but I can’t say there is a God. There is no way a kind and loving god would allow a person to be abused, molested, raped, tortured and survive it and then allow them to get HIV and struggle with the stigma, finances, and health on a daily basis. How the hell is that love? “God is love.” Ummm, OK. And there are “Christians” who scream that AIDS is punishment for our sins. Seriously? What little sins I have committed in my lifetime do not add up to what I have endured through other people’s sins, nor would the kind loving God do this to a person who has tried to do good in her life and follow his word. I gave up. Now I just think God was created by man to explain away things that were unexplainable. I think there is some force, something out there that is powerful, but not in the concept we think. Perhaps that’s some of the Native American in me, I don’t know. I just know that I look at my son, my boyfriend and myself for strength. I find strength in humanity and good I come across. I am fueled by negativity to continue down my path of positivity (puns not intended…but they sure do work! Hehehehehe!)

My advice to all those suffering from HIV? Find the good in things, find a support system, reach out and keep doing good things. Find a hobby or something that inspires you. When I die, I want others to remember me for my laughter, my kindness, the good I did. How do you want to be remembered?