Help and healing are possible. It starts with one act of surrender and one conversation with someone you trust.
I wrote a poem for my mother's service, which I called "A Mother's Love." On the tenth anniversary of her death, I wrote a Eulogy for a class project, and I have included both pieces as a tribute to my mother's life.
The day started out like any other day. My daughter, Deondra Mae, was in the hospital again with pneumonia.
When I look back over my life, it has been filled with many roadblocks, bad choices, deaths, and adversities--yet, somehow, someway, I have always found the strength to carry on.
It's not what others tell you about yourself; it's what you tell yourself that is important. You mold who you think and believe you are.
I share this journey with you all because I feel safety in our sisterhood. I have a safe place to live. My outreach is thriving. I owe all this to a new perspective on me.
It felt like a warm blanket, comforting me in moments of loneliness, sadness, depression, and anxiety. When the weight of my emotions became unbearable, alcohol was there to dull the edges.
I began to understand that HIV can be a blessing, and I began to understand the most challenging thing in life. If you want to, you can get the best out of life.
I can honestly say I'm the most respected and hated person in a mile radius. Outreach is my passion since experiencing very traumatic events throughout my diagnosis of being HIV positive.
I thank God because now there are so many places where they support us—people with HIV. The workshops they offer and the tools they provide, give us a chance to lead a normal life.