Greg’s story
Treatments got better, the horizons kept getting brighter so I slowly started to realise I could live a normal life and start to make plans.
“In September of 2022, I had a bit of a breakdown, which is when I reached out to Terrence Higgins Trust. My life has been a bit of a traumatic journey. I grew up in a very rural place in Scotland where I felt I couldn’t be myself. I was bullied horrendously at school, and because of the way society was back then, it was really difficult to open up to anybody about anything. So I went to London to discover myself.
When I arrived in London I met my previous partner Paul, who was unfortunately diagnosed with HIV about seven years into our relationship in 1985, which was at the very beginning of it all. It was pretty horrendous for us both, going from one disaster to another, with bad treatments or the lack of treatment, and so on. Unfortunately, my partner died, as did many of my friends along the way, and that trauma stuck with me.
When my Paul died, I was 39 and I thought my life was over. I knew everybody assumed that I was HIV positive, which I wasn’t at the time, and the stigma was horrendous. Paul hadn’t even told his family about his HIV diagnosis, and it only came out at the funeral. I became HIV positive in the period after Paul died. I went off the rails because I thought my life was over, and so I lived like there was no tomorrow. I was living pretty privately, and didn’t tell anyone except a few people in my close circle about my diagnosis.
I mean, it wasn’t just the stigma around HIV, but also around gay people. Although I was with Paul for 15 years, I never came out to my parents, so although I suspected they knew, my mother and father never acknowledged that I was gay. Anytime we came up to Scotland to visit, he was always referred to as my friend or flatmate. I’m not blaming them, I just don’t think they knew how to deal with it, and I never encouraged them to confront it.
A few years later I was on holiday, and I met Carsten, my now partner. We were both HIV positive which made it easier to talk about it openly- his attitude towards his diagnosis was different to what I was used to. He was very strong, and I think that’s what I needed at the time to help to make me feel brave. He lived in Denmark at the time, and I lived in London, and he was not prepared to be my ‘friend’ or ‘flatmate’ so he said he wouldn’t come over to London without us being civil partners. And we’ve been together 29 years since! With Carsten, everything has always been open with my family, everybody knew we were gay. The only thing they didn’t know was that I was HIV positive.
It has taken me a long time to come to terms with a lot of this, and the support from everyone at Terrence Higgins Trust has been life changing. For me, I was fed up with telling lies and hiding things from the people that meant most to me. After a few one-to- one sessions with Terrence Higgins Trust, I went on a retreat with other people that were HIV positive, as well as some skills workshops about telling people about your diagnosis, managing their reactions, things like that. In the end, I decided to sit down and write a love letter to my family, who are the most important people to me apart from Carsten. I then decided to see my family individually to express the contents of that letter to them. Although my mother and father had already passed away, it was absolutely healing for me, and a huge weight off my shoulders. I was so scared of their reactions and what it would mean for our relationship, but both my brothers were extremely supportive. My younger brother, who has been my rock in a lot of ways, was very loving and supportive. Most people just wanted to be there for me, and wanted to know why I hadn’t said anything before. But that was just my way of dealing with things and they accepted that.
I’m not regretful about not telling people about my HIV status, because I don’t think it would have served any other purpose than them knowing sooner. My only regret is not being brave enough in 1977 to tell people the truth about who I was rather than running away.
My HIV is undetectable now, and I just take two tablets a day. It’s really not a problem for me. That was hard for me to come to terms with, because watching Paul get worse over the years, and eventually die, I thought that’s just how things were. But treatments got better, and the horizons kept getting brighter, so I slowly started to realise I could live a normal life and start to make plans. Not just immediate plans, but future plans for myself and my partner. That was exciting, and a huge relief to be just like everybody else. I think the main thing we have to do now is break down barriers so people can be open about their status and not feel stigmatised, because it’s not the end of your world, and it certainly wasn’t the end of mine.”
Greg’s story is part of the H is for Human series, in collaboration with the Terrence Higgins Trust, sharing stories of strength, courage and hope from four decades of HIV in Scotland.
For more information on Terrence Higgins Trust and to learn about the work they do, follow this link.
End of page.