Struggling Amidst The Taboos: My Life With Herpes

 “I have herpes!”

The moment I say these three words out loud to a person, rest assured, I know exactly what’s going to come my way — judgment, name-calling, fear, and to some extent, even ostracization.

I have been open about my borderline personality, lichen planus (an autoimmune disease that left me with scars), and being sexually assaulted, abused, and raped. Oftentimes, I have spoken about my struggle with taboos like mental illness, body-shaming, and even being through something traumatic, and had even tried giving a helping hand to people going through something similar.

But this, has been my biggest confession to date, even though it hadn’t nearly affected me as much as the rest of the things I mentioned about did. The reason? Fear of being judged, and fear of being laughed at, and shunned for something I have that I didn’t even want.

Now, a lot of people who know me on a personal level know this fact about me, and that I have been diagnosed a month ago. And yes, the people closest to me were afraid to even come close to me, share a meal, a smoke, or be intimate.

Trust me, it took me months to even accept the fact that I contracted an STI, and that whole journey has been completely filled with hatred. My life was never going to be the same. I still remember how the doctor said, “Sweetheart! I am sorry you have HSV2 (Genital herpes to be precise). And I am sorry that this is something that cannot be cured, and you will be prone to judgment all your life.” Yes, those were her exact words, and it was not a piece of cake for me to swallow.

Any guy that I like, and even likes me back may be afraid to even be intimate with me. And the people that do end up being intimate — though I completely make sure they are well aware of what they are getting into — question me after the deed is done, and I feel dirty, and vulgar. A part of me breaks.

Then there are people who call me a slut, that I might have contracted it because I spent nights with too many people. That I should be ashamed of being a girl that is Indian to have contracted this. Well, news flash! If you’re unlucky, you might actually get it from people you trust the most. And you wouldn’t even know it.

There’s a reason bigger than fear of being judged as to why I didn’t explicitly talk about this. Because I was sick and tired of explaining how it does nothing to the body. There are much worse things out there than Herpes that kill. Herpes involves blisters in the genital area, or cold sores that come and go, like chicken pox, and stay dormant most of the time. It’s just that it’s transmitted sexually. Other than that inconvenience for a few days which go away by taking Valtrax, herpes is nothing, but a taboo. A way to put people down.

But today, I’m letting go of that fear. I don’t care anymore. About explaining to people, about being in fear, about pitying myself, about being called a slut, and about hating myself for having it.

So, let me tell you a few things:

1.     I have genital herpes, and yes, even though the blisters come and then it’s dormant, it’s an incurable condition as the virus stays in my body forever.

2.     Yes, it is transmitted sexually. But not everyone who sleeps with me is not going to get it.

3.     This brings me to point three, if you do end up sleeping with me, do not ask me about the likeliness of the infection being spread to you. I fucking don’t know! No one does. It might be zero percent, or it might be more. You know it’s your choice, so have the decency to not make me feel bad after what is done with consent. It’s not like I’m keeping you in oblivion and forcing you.

4.     Just because I have herpes, doesn’t mean that I got it because I slept around with whomever I see. And just because I have herpes, it doesn’t mean that I’m easy. (Just imagine the number of guys who said they didn’t want to have herpes, but they want to sext with me, and shame me if I refuse.)

5.     Herpes isn’t life-threatening. Hell, it does nothing to your body. Plus it’s so common that almost 60-90 percent of adults are at the risk of contracting it. And most of them who do don’t even show symptoms in their lifetime. So don’t treat me like an untouchable. I am not.

6.     Chickenpox spreads through touch as well. But no one considers it a taboo. But herpes is, since it’s an STI. For a generation that talks about normalizing sex, and is on dating apps looking for casual sex, hookups, and one night stands, take a moment to just think about this. Just because I’m open about my condition, I receive the backlash. Imagine the amount of risk you’re prone to if you are an active part of the hookup and dating culture too. Just think about that.

Lastly, like my BPD, Lichen Planus, and my experience with sexual assault doesn’t define me. Even herpes doesn’t. Harika is so much more than that.

I don’t want any sympathy. I just want minds that are willing to understand, and you know, spread a little awareness of how this is not even remotely a taboo.

Just do this one thing, for me, and many others like me, and I’m grateful!

Can You Love Me Even With My Dark Side?

So, I have been meaning to write something for the past couple of days. I wanted to write it all down when two days ago when my emotions were at its peak. But I decided to put it off until I cooled down and could think clearly.

Most of the people here know that I've been dealing with borderline personality for a couple years now. I have been open about it for a long time now and have often talked about how I cope up with my emotional outbursts and other maniac episodes.

I have been doing alright for the past few months, without any major breakdowns. Six months to be precise. I would occasionally get angry or upset, but I didn't experience that feeling where I lose myself to my emotions completely and end up physically hurting myself, or hurling verbal stones at the loved ones.

But it happened again, a couple of days ago. I succumbed to my rage. What's the reason you may ask? A small joke made by mom that my mind somehow found offensive at that time. It sure is frivolous but ended up drawing rage from the darkest corners of my mind.

I couldn't think. I couldn't breathe.  Oh wait, may the rational part of my mind did.

But it was overpowered by my emotions like a clean sweep. And the result? Yelling. Wailing. Complaining. Hurting Myself. It took me hours to finally calm myself down to sleep. And of course, there was help. My parents understood. I was grateful.

This post is not about what happened to me then. But it is about what things were running in my mind.

The Halves of Us: More than Friends, Less than Lovers

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You fall in love, have the time of your lives, and then you realise that sometimes, it wasn’t meant to be. That the heart that has been given to you was nothing but a mere loan, or that you aren’t love struck anymore. 

You burn, you break and eventually, you begin to heal. You shut yourself out and build this huge wall around yourself. Your romantic life wouldn’t be the same anymore. And then, one day… boom! someone walks into your life out of the blue. A random Tinder Match, An accidental acquaintance or Someone who might just walk up to a broken-you sitting at the Bar Counter. From that one moment on, things change without even you noticing it.

He wasn’t someone I would even expect to be this important to me at present. Hell, I was annoyed that it took him long to meet me for the first time. Even after the meet, I’ve never expected there’d be a second. But there was one thing that tied us both - Food! So, I thought of hanging out with him once again; he too, cleaned up pretty decent, and came out of his sloth-mode for a buffet brunch at my favourite restaurant on a warm Sunday afternoon. That one brunch, with conversations about food, life, passion, and love changed it all. We both knew we were broken and aren’t ready for another commitment. So, we just seize the moment instead, only the 'now' mattered to us - I simply enjoyed the way he looked at me. He relished the way he eased into conversations with me. He patiently listened to me with admiration while I spoke (even the nonsense). He emitted this aura that was easily likeable. One meet up was followed by another. Hours of talking, the teetotaller in him taking care of the tipsy me, and his thoughtful yet impulsive surprises, late night drives, all-nighters, and crazy yet comfortable conversations - everything fell into place, even with all the mess, thus marking the beginning of half a relationship.

You both know your feelings are at stake, but you don’t wanna lose each other. You have those heated arguments, yet manage to make each other smile. Because all that matters is to cherish each and every single moment spent together. Because you are weirdly comfortable around each other, in ways you can’t be with others. You both don’t know what one another saw in your counterpart’s broken self. But you know they somehow hold a key, or at least help you find a key to healing better. You can finally be able to call him/her your partner in crime, and someone whom you hold dear, without giving it a name. 

He is someone who doesn’t want to clip my wings. 
He is someone who saw me in all my flawed, clumsy, & crazy glory, yet accepts me the way I am.

He is someone who could imagine his 30s and 40s the same crazy way when I am with him.
He is someone who always wonders what I saw in him. 

He is someone who stares at me in admiration for hours together. 

He is someone who does anything to cheer me up when I am upset, or feign anger. 

He is someone who made me believe in myself again. 

Last but not the least, he is someone who’s more than a friend, and less than a Boyfriend.
Yet he is the one whom I trust with things if they’d ever get out of hand. 

I might be his Half Girlfriend, but that’s one of the happiest things because I don’t have to bother about where we’re heading, just savour every single moment of it!

I am sharing a Half relationship story at BlogAdda in association with #HalfGirlfriend

I'm Highly Volatile; I am Borderline!

Naked - stripped off of all the defensive layers Raw - sensitive thoughts and emotions Eruptive - with wavering identity and courage! That's what I am - A girl fighting Borderline!

It's hard - not to stop, not to think, not to feel, not to be afraid of myself and everyone else. It's hard - to put down that bottle of beer that makes me feel good. It's hard - not to lose temper at the loved one. It's hard - to hide my fears under that masquerade of naivete and cheerfulness. It's hard - to not self-harm or tell myself, 'It's not your fault.'

A person very close to me recently said, 'You're never going to change. Because you don't want to. Well, stay the same! Because it's not my problem... and I'm giving up on you.' A part of me knows that it's alright as I knew I wanted to change, and that I could definitely make it through, because I always have. But all that showed on the outside were the tears, accompanied by intense the fear of abandonment. I begged my friend, much to his chagrin and disgust. Well, what he didn't know was that I felt the disgust for myself too.

From the time I became aware of the fluctuations in my behavioural patterns, I have been trying to figure out what it was. I had felt rage, grief and elation, instead of anger, sadness and joy. It's like my mind had a magnifying glass of its own. I am this sweet person overshadowed by madness and many other things. Then started my battle with the identity crisis - No, not the career-related one. The personal one! It began with disagreements, crying, screaming, yelling, laughing, hurting my loved ones physically and verbally, and last but not the least, hurting myself physically and emotionally. The journey went on and on, up and down a rocky road that never seemed to flatten out.

A while ago, I blogged about waging a war with depression. But I never realised that there could be more. I felt empty all the time, and the patterns were still abnormal. Depression was just a little part of it, but not the whole. I made new friends, thought life was going to be fun now, but my inner demons were never quite silenced. They came back, hurting the one I cared deeply, and wanted a life with. I scared him away, as well as all my friends, with my irrationality.

I threatened to kill myself, I banged my head against a wall, I made a huge scene on the road in the middle of the night - my friends were still there, but I knew they were not going to, for long. I took a call the next day and went to the psychiatrist again. And boom! It wasn't depression. It never was! It was Borderline Personality Disorder, which was dwelling inside me since long.

For those who don't know, borderline is all about emotional instability which leads to many other things on a temporary basis - Eating Disorders, Depression, Substance Abuse, Addiction, Self-harm, Suicidal tendencies - what not!? If you think it's Bipolar, you're mistaken, because bipolar is when most of these symptoms stay for a longer time.

We trust people too much, care too much, yet live in this immense fear of abandonment. We feel we're unworthy of love or that this shrewd world doesn't deserve us. It's always an erupting volcano inside our heads. Why? Because we're not 'normal enough' for someone to deal or stay with us. All we get is, 'It's all in your head', ''You're at fault', You don't want to help yourself', 'You need to be fixed', 'You're a retard' , 'You'll never change', 'You're a psychopath', 'I'm done dealing with you'. Well, bring 'em on! Is that the best you've got?

I may look hunky dory and cool to everyone that just met me; a retard, maniac and a psychopath to someone who has known me enough to see my impulsive actions. But I am someone with a disturbed sense of identity, impulsiveness, uncontrollable emotions, dissociation, distorted self-image and personal values and incapable of maintaining stable interpersonal relations; but deep down, I am also someone who's brave and strong enough to get out of this mess.
Dear fellow beings, I am not the only one who feels deeply and end up in a disastrous mess, failing to take control of their emotions. There are thousands out there who hurt themselves and fall down a spiral of self-hatred, guilt, and fear of abandonment.

And the least you could do it is to understand or support, instead of all the name calling and awarding the tag mental patient. 'Cause trust me, the world we live in isn't colourful, it's just painfully black and white.

Customary Introduction: The Air and Water (Could be Pizza for me) of the English Language!

Let me begin with a confession, people hate me. They loathe me for correcting their grammar; a cousin of mine even stopped talking to me, labelling me as a Grammar Nazi who thinks she 'knows it all'. But then again, it's wired in me to automatically correct the errors - mild OCD pertaining to the language you see!

However, this 'Grammar Nazi' in me wasn't always there, like most of you out there, I dreaded grammar too. So was the case with tattoos. But eventually, I fell in love with both of them. Ended up as that annoying woman who corrects people's grammar and sports about 5 tattoos etched onto her skin.

The exact moment I began to love English is kind of vague in my mind palace, but like John Green says, 'It was like the way you fall asleep, slowly... and then all at once!' I still remember, the first grammar book I had ever laid my eyes on was the famous 'Wren and Martin'. But trust me, it was of no help. I was in my high school back then, and grammar was like one of those zombies that hunted us down in those apocalyptic movies. Parts of Speech were fine, but it was only up to that. Clauses and Phrases haunted me; Punctuation sought out to suck my blood like vampires. God! It was terrorizing, but I managed to score a decent 93% in my boards.

Flash forward two years, Olivia Lazarus Ma'am entered my life, with that big fat textbook of 'Remedial Grammar'. She used to teach well, but somehow, all those concepts flew over my head. So, I took it upon me to learn the concepts myself, due to my mad, irrevocable love for English. And there, started my never-ending journey!

Let me tell you one thing about why you'll hate grammar or find it boring. Because it's full of rules. Like one of those Law Books. And like those hundreds of words taken into English from Latin, French and other languages (I am not going there, you could always go for etymology if you want to know more about it), the grammatical rules were also adopted. And like those loopholes in the law, you have exceptions in the grammar and there are plenty of them. Believe me, my friend! There's no escape from these, the same way there's no escape from the GoT and Pokémon posts on Facebook.

So, what you need to master these rules of grammar are:
1. A strong cup of coffee
2. A slice of Pizza or the whole of it
3. An incredible teacher/book/reading material.

And I was (un)fortunate enough to scroll through hundreds of websites trying to teach grammar to my kids in the most fun way possible (trust me, sometimes I have no idea how I ended up as an English teacher. I feel afraid to go to the weekly team meets and face the other English faculty and school. But then, they're all chilled out). But after a long, long hunt on websites, torrents and crosswords, I found one book that taught me grammar the way I wanted - funny, nasty and dirty! (Which, of course, I can't try teaching my kids)

So, here I am, fully motivated to combine these two methods to help you all out there with grammar - right from the Word Classes (Don't Panic! It's nothing but a posh alternative for Parts of Speech that I learnt at school) to How Not To Use Double Negatives, I shall be your friend, confidant and guide (psst... I am not perfect either, so, I'll drop in a word 'co-learner' there, because I have two people that correct my English too). With a little bit of help and co-operation, I hope you would write that perfect love letter to your crush, write an error-free piece of writing that is not silently judged/corrected by me (just kidding!) or other grammar Nazis, or finally become that annoying person who critiques others!

I'll be back soon with the Next Post!

Until Then,
Stay Classy!

#Post1 in 'But First, Grammar' Series

Fun.Freedom.Confidence With Datsun redi-GO

Fun. Freedom. Confidence. The ultimate Urban Cross - Datsun redi-GO - the capability of a crossover with the convenience of a hatchback.

Who doesn’t love long drives? I mean, it’s one of the closest definition to an adventure. After a hectic weekend, or during one of those long vacations, we crave to hit the road and fill our soul with the soothing sound of tyres on the asphalt. The feeling is incomparable when you drive through the concrete forests into the cradle of nature and finally to a destination that you have long desired for.

But what makes a fun drive even more exciting? The answer is an awesome ride that takes us to these exotic destinations. Isn’t it?

Datsun redi-GO has been quite promising with its unique features that would make anyone want to drive it to a destination that is as appealing as it is.

The first ever urban cross has quite a lot of features that managed to grab my attention, but the ones that appealed to me the most are its Stylish and really Spacious interiors, a sleek and a chic look with a classy color, and last but not the least the 25.17 kmpl mileage. These made me want to take this classy car out on a spin along with my group of friends. And as for the place I would want to drive away to, it would be the Shettihalli Rosary Church, one of the historical Places in Karnataka that managed to bewitch me with its enigmatic look. 

When a Writer's Retreat turned into an Ideal Vacation!

Although born in a family where people are not much interested in visiting several places, the travel bug bit me at an early age. And I ended up experiencing and embracing the things a new place has to offer me. The feeling that a new place I’ve visited gives me has always been inexplicable.

As I grew up, I made a bucket lists for all the places I ever wanted to visit, including the plans for the itineraries. However, my perfect vacation has been the one I have taken by myself, without any family, but just the company of a fellow writer/friend.

So, it all started with the plan of few writers planning a trip to Leh Ladakh. However, the plan was dropped as people lost interest, one after the other. Some time later, I just pinged one of the writers asking her if we could go somewhere as I needed a writers’ retreat so bad. She immediately agreed. So, after a brainstorming session for a couple of days, we fixated upon Munnar.