Countdown to 50: The 1980s Part 2

In my last post, I wrote an account of the rape I endured in 1984. I mentioned that things would get better. Sometimes in order for things to get better, we have to go further down, and hit rock bottom. The downward spiral got worse the following year.

After a series of anonymous sex episodes, I went to get an HIV test. I, like so many of us back then, thought HIV/AIDS happened far away. It didn't happen in Indiana. Still being the good gay, I went to get tested to confirm, I too was negative. I wasn't. The test turned out to be positive. With a positive test, you took a follow-up test to see if it is a false positive result. Waiting for the second test was the longest two weeks ever.

The nurse told me I was positive. In 1985, there weren't the support groups, services, or anything which helped those who tested positive. There was AZT, the drug which waited for a disease. It was toxic, and the drug did more harm to the body than anything you could imagine. I refused to take it.

At this point I told my mother about the rape and the HIV status. She told me it just wasn't true. Denial is a pretty powerful thing. She told me she loved me, but I could see the pain she went through. I had not told her I was gay yet, and somehow 2+2 did not = 4 for her yet. I got booted from school. The depression was pretty bad and class wasn't something I wanted to really go to.

In a period of darkness, I found a lot of joy working at Bradford Woods in the summers of 1985 and 1986. I was a counselor for kids with special needs. I loved those kids, and they loved me. I thought when I went back to school I might go for a degree in Special Education. At this time I also worked at the Indiana Repertory Theatre. I worked in the box office and enjoyed it, but I wanted to get back to school. I headed back to Indiana University.

1987-1988 would be the turning point. I had lived for two years with no symptoms of HIV, and I took another test. I was negative. I test again, I was negative. I test a third time, I was negative. Every test since then has been negative. What should have been a joyous moment wasn't. For two years I was depressed and ready to die. Now in my mind I was being cheated out that.

Some circumstances with a guy I had a crush on lead me to a fateful night in April, 1988, where I spent a late night downing about 200 sleeping pills and a gallon of wine. Welcome to rock bottom friends. This was where I found myself. Rock bottom was pathetic me, crying, trying to kill myself, when all of a sudden I drop a couple of the pills. My dachshund, Fred came out to the patio where I was, and was sniffing at the pills. In my panic to make sure he didn't take a pill, it was the moment I realized what I was doing, and how I didn't want to die. Call it coincidence, call it divine intervention, Fred coming out to investigate the pills was my wake up call. I called friends who came to take me to the ER. Of course they chewed me out the entire way there.

The ER was a series of horrors, funny moments, and being in and out of consciousness. I kept thinking how funny it was that people kept asking me what I was there for that night, when I kept saying, "Do none of you talk to each other? I've told every nurse I tried to kill myself and now I want to live."

I took some medicine, and under threat of stomach pumping, I began to throw up. It wasn't pretty. The psychiatrist on duty advised me I could stay the night in the psychiatric ward, but he couldn't guarantee my safety. I opted to go home. I was given liquid charcoal, and told not to throw that up. When I got home, I threw up in the toilet, and spent the rest of the night crying and cleaning the toilet.

The next day I packed up the car, got the dog, and we went to my family's cottage on Lake Michigan. I wanted to be alone and think things through. I called my mom, who told me what I had done was silly and never to do it again. Thanks mom! The few days at the cottage were important to me. I realized I was not a healthy gay man. I didn't know gay people. I wasn't making friends, and I needed a new direction in life. It came.

Fall of 1988 I was encouraged by my friend Jeff to go to a meeting of OUT. IU's gay and lesbian student group. I walked in, didn't know a soul, and just stood around. After a while, I was approached by a man I knew at first sight. It was the man who raped me. He came up to me, told me I was cute, and I looked familiar. Had we met before?

I looked him in the eyes, and told him no. My heart was racing a mile a minute. Here was the man who had made my life a living HELL 4 years earlier, and now he is hitting on me, and didn't know what he did to me. I ran out of the room, and headed to the library to see Jeff.

I told him what happened, and that I never wanted to go back to OUT. He told me I had to, or that man would have power over me forever. I did go back. Three meetings later I was elected OUT's first president.

My life would be changed forever with this. My fellow officers and friends Chad B, Nora, Heather Jeff, Joe, Grant, Chad F and I started something pretty special for the LGBT community at Indiana University. Some of the things we accomplished during my time with OUT and with the student government:

Working with the university to include sexual orientation in its anti-discriminatory policies
Created Gay Pride Week
Brought the NAMES Project AIDS Memorial Quilt to the state of Indiana for the first time
Created Miss Gay IU
Laid the foundation for works towards a gay and lesbian support center on campus

While those were wonderful things, they served a larger purpose. LGBT people needed to be part of the overall community. Awareness of who we are was the start. IU has never looked back since then. LGBT students may not know this now, but almost everything they have on campus started with that group back in 1988.

My rape, depression and HIV status taught me how we need to have a voice and be strong. We are everywhere. Living in the closet and being afraid is never going to help you. I was an activist. I came out to my parents, and while there were issues there, I felt free. The truth does set you free.

I had been to Hell and now I was back. When I look back at everything before 1988, I see a pretty sad person, who could not come to grips with who he was. I came out of the 1980s a strong person, fighting for justice, being more assured of my life, and never willing to EVER go back to the person I had been.

If you do go through hard and difficult times, know there are people in this world who love and support you. I owe a lot to wonderful people like Kris, Lisa, Jan, Jen, Marshall, Jeff, Joe, Laura, Ted, Tina, and so many others. I don't want anyone upset if I didn't mention them, but my friends were my rock.

The happy ending is I found what I was made of, and I was much stronger than I could have imagined. When things feel bad, or go downhill these days, I remember what it was like, and I know I am not close to that, nor will I ever be at rock bottom.

Be strong my friends. Be true to yourself. Be proud of yourself.

Charlie