The "H" word....sHame

I have herpes. Genital herpes. Yup. The really gross kind. It’s the first time I’ve written it down. It’s not something I say out loud very often. When I do, it’s at a low volume, as though I don’t even want myself to hear.

It’s been about 15 years of knowing I have it, and probably over 25 years of actually being infected. It’s also been about 15 years (minus two months) that the diagnosis has cast a shadow of shame over me. You see, I only found out I had it once I was engaged to be married. Imagine that. What timing.

“Honey, there’s something you should know. I don’t want to get married in a church, I only want 80 guests, and I have herpes. All good?”

It wasn’t good. He viewed it as a catastrophe. The life he planned, the life he imagined, the children he wanted… *poof*. Gone. In the blink of an eye. His future was darkness.

Sound melodramatic? It was, but understandably, we didn’t know what “herpes” meant. As it turns out, with some careful management it wasn’t really a big deal. But at the time he felt bleak, I felt disgusting.

On a side note, I had had herpes for years. Years. But in my naivete, I didn’t know I had it. I thought I was having recurring yeast infections? General discomfort? You know, woman stuff? When I finally had it looked at and the doc told me that she thought it might be herpes, I almost laughed at her. “As if! That’s ridiculous.”

Turns out she was right, and it was not ridiculous to make the assumption. Genital herpes is extremely prevalent in adults. Public service announcement: If you think you don’t have it, you might. It’s not something that is detected from pap smears.

At the time, despite knowing that I was not alone, I felt alone. Filth, stupidity, embarrassment, naivete, guilt-they were all partners of the shame I was awash with. We ended up getting married (obviously), but the shame of it hung over me for years. For the duration of the marriage really. Once shame grabs a hold of you, once you feel repulsion emanate from someone you care about, it’s hard to shake. For both of you.

Over the course of the years as I disclosed this dirty secret to friends, they listened without judgement and with concern. It wasn’t until recently though, when, during separate conversations, I told both my therapist and a new, close friend (B... more on him another time) of my affliction, that new words were injected into my internal discourse: victimhood and innocence. Without batting an eye, they both focused on the fact that I didn't ask for this, that I didn't intentionally make this happen.

Wait! What? I was a victim? I was innocent? Huh. I rolled the unfamiliar words around in my head to see how they felt. “Victim. I was a VICTIM. I was INNOCENT." What a fresh take on this experience. After a decade and a half, I am able to perceive a new perspective. After a decade and a half, I am finally able to start sloughing off the shame.