Since joining the HIV club, I have often wondered why I was one of the unlucky ones. Just a couple of minor slip-ups in the safe sex department does not seem fair, especially when you hear others tell of years of barebacking with no consequences. This makes me wonder how much our mental state really can affect leaving ourselves open to HIV?
Spiritual gurus like Louise Hay suggest that all sorts of “dis-eases” come our way when we are down on our luck, and I realise this was true for me. Before I was diagnosed, I was depressed, without a job, and did not have a place I could call my own. Finding that place often is a difficult task in London, and one of my first steps on the road to recovery after testing positive was to throw myself at the mercy of Camden Council, in the hope of securing my own nest.
Two years on, having just helped a friend begin the same process, I realised how lucky I was to get my flat. In certain circumstances, there can be support available to those of us who have HIV and do not have a permanent home.
Sadly, it is a long and complicated system, and going through it is a full-time job in itself. Perseverance and a level head are required, and I wanted to offer my support and experience to a friend in need. So, early one October morning, armed with doctors’ letters, social workers’ recommendations and enough provisions for a long wait, we set out for Camden Homeless Persons’ Unit.
My friend (let’s call him Mark) was apprehensive about the whole thing, and reluctant to ask for help, but I kept reminding him that it was his right to do so. Flats have become like gold-dust due to the ridiculous over crowding problem in London, but to pay a reasonable rent for your own self-contained property, should be something that is available for everyone - positive or not. I was shocked to discover piles of literature, persuading people to be “shipped out” to Newcastle or Derby.
Of course, no one is forced into this, but it does not stop the council from trying. We took our

Tesco deli-style ticket, (number 9 - now serving 12) and settled in for the wait. We had a choice of two women behind the bullet-proof glass. One looked kindly and understanding, and the other looked like she would eat three children for breakfast. We ended up with the latter one.
This hatchet-faced lady was extremely thorough, and if anyone really was trying to cheat the system, they would fail at the first hurdle. The crass “points make prizes” attitude was all too apparent - extra points for being HIV, extra points for being homeless, add points for mental instability, and bonus points for over-crowding.
Then there were the telephone calls to unsuspecting friends to confirm that Mark was in fact sleeping on floors and genuinely in need. A follow-up appointment was made, and he is now waiting to hear the outcome.
Mark’s biggest fear was to hear himself say: “I am positive, symptomatic, on medication, receiving psychiatric help and I have no where to live...”
Sometimes the truth can really hit home. I kept reminding him of the reason he was putting himself through this ordeal.
Since having my own place, I no longer worry about my future in London. I know that I will always have a roof over my head, and this feeling of security somehow makes HIV more manageable for me. I would love Mark to have the same peace of mind.
So for anyone out there who is positive and troubled by their living situation, be prepared for a difficult task ahead, but please do not give up hope. Whatever people’s views on HIV benefits are, no one can deny that you deserve the chance of a decent home of your own. It’s going to take a lot more effort than just clicking your ruby slippers three times, but hopefully it will be a story with a happy end.