Living with herpes
“I went back with a guy after a night out, who made it very clear that he didn’t wear condoms. I protested, he insisted.”
I always wore condoms. It was never something I questioned.
Then came freshers week of my second year. I went back with a guy after a night out, who made it very clear that he didn’t always wear condoms. I protested, he insisted. I said, “no”, he told me I’d like it. I didn’t. But wanting to get out of there, decided to make him cum as quickly as possible (despite being dry and unaroused).
After two days, walking wasn’t painful anymore.
After six days, it was painful again.
This wasn’t your run-of-the-mill thrush; I felt like I was peeing broken glass, and I knew it was something else. I told my best friend, and she came with me to the sexual health clinic. The nurse confirmed it was herpes. I burst into tears. I was a walking disease, a ruined woman, and felt like my body was alien to me.
The following months were a nightmare, spent crying in bed, or, when I went out getting so drunk to briefly forget about what was going on, inevitably bawling my eyes out to my friends. I didn’t attend lectures, barely hit deadlines, and it triggered a depression I’ve had intermittently since.
“I was angry at the man who did this to me and worse, angry at friends who didn’t wear condoms but seemingly dodged the herpes bullet every time”
I was angry at the man who did this to me and worse, angry at friends who didn’t wear condoms but seemingly dodged the herpes bullet every time.
“I still struggle with friends who don’t wear condoms—especially those who know about my diagnosis—as I know they could be carriers, passing it on to others, traumatising lives like mine”
There was a chink of light though: the Herpes Virus Association helpline was incredible, explaining how 70% of people will have the herpes simplex virus by age 25; how most don’t know they have it (1/3 will get diagnosed while 2/3 have mild or no symptoms so don’t get diagnosed); and besides, many other infections stay with us (chickenpox, glandular fever), which nobody stigmatises. They explained it wasn’t something I had to disclose to my partners, there’s medication you can take to prevent outbreaks, and I really could go on with my life as normal.
Notwithstanding the coercive issues around the event which led to my infection, I’ve stopped resenting the man who ‘did this’ to me, as I realise it’s an issue of education as much as anything. He may have been one of the lucky two thirds. I still struggle with friends who don’t wear condoms—especially those who know about my diagnosis—as I know they could be carriers, passing it on to others, traumatising lives like mine.
“For anyone reading this who’s struggling with a diagnosis: you’re not dirty, a slut, or unlovable… just a bit unlucky. You’ll be OK, just like I am now.”
I’ve connected with others who have herpes, and we regularly remind each other it’s no big deal, but for the most part I hardly think about it now. I’ve not had another outbreak, and I take antivirals when I’m sexually active to protect my partners, just in case. For anyone reading this who’s struggling with a diagnosis: you’re not dirty, a slut, or unlovable… just a bit unlucky. You’ll be OK, just like I am now <3.