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Seasons of mists and New Year resolutions that we'll probably never keep.
A time for pondering and reflecting on another year that has slipped like
sand through my fingers.
As I stand on the brink of 2002, the seventh year since my diagnosis,
I'm wondering who I am now, and perhaps more importantly who I want to
be.
Sometimes it's easier to see who I'm not. When I was a child I could look
in the mirror and know with certainty that the little girl reflected there
was quite simply me. Now, it's not that easy.
I am not quite the picture above - which my mother says makes me look
like Carol Vorderman. I am not the words that are printed here. I am certainly
not my HIV status.
For 18 years I have been someone's mother, lover, wife, sister, daughter,
counsellor or friend. Roles which, real as they were, left little room
for me to be seen just as me.
This time last year I got angry.
It was time for a change, time to live a life more meaningfully mine.
Time to start thinking about a career and a pension plan.
It took eight months to get from A to B but 'angry' got me there - hand
in hand with 'scared' and occasionally accompanied by 'bloody terrified'
- and eventually I moved
house and started college.
It was an enormous step and took more courage and self-confidence than
I
