I wish it were easy to put this behind me for good

My “weather report” is freaking me out. There is a nimbostratus that is not going to blow away any time soon. Plus, for only God knows how long, there is going to be rain and foreboding separation clouds, which are blocking my sun…yet it is summer. 

When I shared the sad experience of my separation, I kind of wanted to get rid of some of the questions I answer every day. I got an overwhelming number of emails.

Most of the feedback came from people who have walked in my shoes. Some are undergoing the same fire, and advised me to weather the storm. However, some brothers said, without mincing words, that they would not mind filling the gap Richard left. 

Another category accused me of washing and airing my dirty linen in the public. I don’t know whether to admit it or not, but, of course, it is human nature for many of us get all worked up and pass the buck when a relationship goes to the dogs.

THREE SIDES TO EVERY STORY

I have witnessed blame game “players” in the HIV/AIDS field. Of all the two decades I have been in this business, I have no record of anyone, man or woman, who came to me or to my office and confessed that they infected so-and-so with the HI virus.

When a brother walked in, he blamed his wife for bringing the virus home, while sisters were quick to tell me that it was the man, and that all along, they suspected this would happen.

Coming to Richard and Asunta, we both have our sides of the story. Of who messed up the other. We tried several arbitrators, who gracefully walked away without giving their thoughts. And like they say, there are three sides to every story.

Having said that, it’s extremely hard for one to walk out of a smoking house on fire and not sneeze or cough. I had to cough, in whichever way I did. If I wouldn’t have coughed, I would have died of smoke-inhalation.

NEON SIGN

For those suggesting I just move on, I will tell them I’m trying to do exactly that in the best way I can. For the brothers who have emailed me their “applications”, saying they want to fill the “vacancy”, I have three words for you: “No vacancy available”.

Why am I saying this? Because this is not just another household item that can be replaced. Richard is irreplaceable because for about 14 years, I emotionally invested in him. To simply call it quits, emotionally, is not easy.

And who wants to hook up with a sister who still has hang-ups about her ex? A chick who’s a “rebound baby”? Besides, we have four boys, some who are his photocopy, down to the last pixel.

These kids will never join me in replacing their dad. That’s why I have put up a neon sign on my front door: “No vacancy available”.  

WHEN THINGS FALL APART

If there’s one thing I’m not a sucker for, it’s self-pity. This disempowering state of mind has never been my cuppa in all my years of living with HIV. For those who are there or have been there, help a sister out. Please? What do I tell the children? How do I move on? How do I heal? Where do I go from here?

I wish I could handle stuff the way Ben Carson’s mother did. This neurologist’s mom simply told her kids, “Your dad will be leaving us tomorrow and he’ll never come back”. She did this without tarnishing the man’s image.

I wish I could tell my kids this and close that chapter for good. We are all created differently though. We respond and react differently to the same stimuli.

For some folks on the outside looking in, it may seem like I’ve got this. They may reason that if I survived HIV, this is a walk in the park, but nothing could be further from the truth. I’m freaked out by this dizzying white-knuckle ride. Really.   

In Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart, Okonkwo, the chief protagonist, is sent on exile for hacking an adopted child who called him father.

Consequently, many tribulations follow him. When he returns from exile, he comments, “Perhaps I’ve been away for too long”. This was after he found out that Europeans had taken control of everything and everyone lived under their rule.

Personally, I think I trusted too quickly, too easily, too much; throwing all caution to the wind…until our love thing fell apart.