A life spared, a life shared

Misti had a job, raised her daughter as a single parent, and dated when she had the time. She acknowledged occasional use of drugs and “some problems with alcohol” ever since her teen years, but she was able to hold everything together, at least for a while.

Eleven years ago, Misti went in for a routine health checkup. In the process of doing some blood work, the doctor discovered some heartbreaking news. Misti, he told her, was HIV-positive.
           
“My daughter and aunt were with me when I found out,” she says. “I thought of (committing) suicide, because didn’t want to have my daughter see me die like this.” For a long time after her diagnosis, Misti awoke with terrible nightmares, saying that she felt like she literally had bugs crawling beneath her skin.
           
Three years following her diagnosis, her boyfriend finally confessed to being HIV-positive as well. Not only had he put her at risk, he admitted; but he also cheated on her with a good friend of hers, impregnating her and infecting her with the virus too. Heartbroken and hopeless, Misti spiraled into heavy drug use.
           
At the root of her self-destructive habits was a deep, lingering fear. “Everyone (in my family) was scared to death,” she says. “(HIV education) was still pretty new back then.” Her family started bleaching the entire bathroom every time she used it. “They loved me, but were scared of me,” says Misti. “I was scared too.  I felt like I had the plague. I was afraid to kiss my daughter. I was even scared to share a glass of water (with someone).”
           
Believing she was both unlovable and unemployable, Misti resorted to numbing her pain. In the process, she lost the support of her family, as well as the custody of her daughter. She notes that she saw no hope for success in part because she was not a part of a community at the time where people with HIV were living happy lives in spite of the disease.
           
While visiting AIDS Outreach Center for an acupuncture session, she was invited to lunch at Samaritan House by Annette, a friend whom she trusted. She remembers thinking it was a nice place, but was still not convinced that she needed that kind of support for herself. She continued to try to kick her drug habit on her own, but without success.

Finally, she conceded that she either had to change her ways or accept death as her only option. Without friends or family by her side any longer, she knew she needed a family like Samaritan House.
           
After many months in the on-site program, Misti’s health began to return. She points out that, though she is still living with the virus, the viral load in her blood is undetectable, and her t-cell count (the level of antibodies in the bloodstream that fight disease) has never been higher since her diagnosis. Misti jokes that these days, not even maintaining weight is a problem.
           
“I’ve been clean and sober from all drugs and alcohol for seventeen months now, which is the longest I’ve been sober since I was a (teenager).” She attends Narcotics Anonymous meetings regularly, meet weekly with her sponsor, and she has even become a sponsor to someone else who is new to the program.
           
Misti recently moved into an apartment of her own off-site. Samaritan House staff helped her find a place, provided rental subsidies through the Genesis Project, and even helped her furnish her new home. “Sometimes, I walk in and still can’t believe this is my place,” she says.

Though she is working across the street from her apartment at a local salon, attending classes at a cosmetology school and feeling more confident than ever, Misti recognizes the need to stay connected to her Samaritan House family. She visits several times a week, and knows that she can call on any staff member for help if she needs it. She has regained the trust of her family, adding another layer of support, but she has not achieved all of her long-term goals.

Most immediately, Misti is working with lawyers to try to regain custody of her twelve-year-old daughter, who still lives at a Presbyterian children’s home. Beyond that, she hopes to finish school, keep working at the salon, and eventually open a store of her own.

“This is the longest I’ve stuck with anything my whole life,” says Misti.  “I have absolutely turned my life around. I owe Samaritan House my life.”