Saying goodbye to my friend at the pub, I decided to stay and finish my drink.
Within minutes, I knew something was wrong. I felt really dizzy, hot, had a slight tremor, and I was unable to lift my head or ask for help.
Suddenly, there was a guys shoes between mine. I could smell strong, cheap aftershave, and when he asked me if I needed any help, I thought thank goodness.
I said yes. Thats the last thing I remember from the chilly October evening in 2005 that changed my world forever.
When I opened my eyes, it felt like I had just blinked. I was blinded by the strong winter sun that streamed through my bedroom window.
I can only guess, but the stranger must have made himself out to be a friend that was helping me and thats how I got home while dipping in and out of consciousness.
I caught a glance at the clock on my bedside table and realised it was the next day 10:02am meaning there were a whole 12 hours I cant recall.
I felt horrendous; shivering, nauseous, and confused just like an awful hangover so I went to stand up to go and take a shower. But I couldnt get up; my legs were unable to hold me upright.
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Once I finally dragged myself to the bathroom and began getting undressed, it was glaringly obvious that someone had done something terrible to me. I was confused and scared.
A few hours later, after ignoring what I knew and spending almost an hour in the shower trying to scrub away what I could only imagine had happened to me, I phoned for help.
I phoned emergency services. They told me to stay where I was while they called an ambulance and police car to my flat.
I was at the hospital when I was told I had Rohypnol a date rape drug in my blood and that the physical evidence showed I had been raped.
Being spiked, finding out that I had been raped, and feeling like I had to justify why I showered and washed away the crucial evidence that potentially could have been used to find my attacker, was just too much for me to take.
While still in hospital, I did a full sexual health screening. All my results came back clear, but I was told that it can take three months for HIV to show up in a blood test, so Id need to come back then for another test.
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Once discharged from hospital, I thought about filing a report with the police, but knowing Id have to relive the trauma while going through the courts was just too much to bear. I already felt broken.
The aftermath hit me hard so I drank heavily to cope. As a result, I missed the three-month checkup.
On top of that, I couldnt be with anyone sexually and I was constantly trying to forget the memories that I couldnt actually remember.
By the sixth month, I knew I couldnt keep living in a downward spiral, so I went back to the hospital for my HIV test despite not having any symptoms.
When the results of that test came in at the end of February in 2006, the doctor sat me down. She said how sorry she was; I tested positive for HIV. The person who had raped me passed the virus to me.
I could only feel shocked at first, like the air was knocked out of my body. My first thought was: My life is over. This is because, growing up in the 80s and under Section 28, all I saw was death, and I wasnt taught anything different.
I just cried and cried.
But I knew I wanted to be here; I wanted to live. I just didnt know who I could tell.
So I spent the next two years of my life closing myself off and listening to lots of Whitney Houston one of my favourite artists, who made me feel less lonely and reminded me of better times.
At the time I was diagnosed, people living with HIV didnt start treatment right away. So I had to wait for my CD4 count (the number of white blood cells in a cubic millimetre of blood) to go below 200, before it developed into an AIDS-defining illness.
It would be four years until I started treatment, so I watched every cough and cold, waiting for death to come.
After two years, it became clear to me that I was not going to die. So I started seeing my consultant and doing what I could to strengthen my body and mind what I needed to do to live again.
I started to research HIV organisations like Naz, Terrence Higgins Trust, London Lighthouse and Body and Soul. I saw people with HIV living long, happy, healthy lives.
I also found inspiration in Pedro Zamora, a young HIV advocate who was on the TV programme The Real World.
Even though he had passed in the 90s, in his 22 short years, he had made such an impact in his HIV and LBGTQ+ rights activism. I still keep a photo of him on my mirror to this day. In time, I realised that I deserved to allow myself to live and live freely.
As an actor for my therapy I decided to write my story, which then became my one-man show Shadowed Dreamer. Id had a really challenging life so I wrote the story to be infused with humour because thats how I got through it all.
Its my story of survival and determination.
I ended up touring New York in 2010, closing Off Broadway, and then in the UK. I recently did more shows, touring the UK again and continued to tell my story.
Unfortunately, the stigma surrounding HIV is very real and something that people living with HIV regularly face.
After my diagnosis, I lost friends, including one who gradually distanced themselves before phoning me out of the blue to say: Stephen, I cant watch you die.
I wasnt at a place yet in my diagnosis to challenge them so they simply exited my life. This is why its important that people educate themselves on what HIV is and that its no longer a death sentence.
Its a liveable, manageable condition. And since the science of U=U (which means undetectable equals untransmittable) anyone on effective treatment with an undetectable viral load cannot pass HIV on to a sexual partner.
To keep myself undetectable, I take my medication via injection every two months. Its a part of my routine, not a barrier to living my fullest life.
In fact, its helped me connect with others. Ive met friends for life singing in the Joyful Noise, a choir of people living with HIV organised by the sexual health charity, Naz. Im a performer and Im an HIV activist supporting the Zero HIV Stigma Day campaign.
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I share my story, not only because I dont want anyone to feel as lonely or scared as I did, but because I want people to know what HIV looks like today. It looks like me and like so many other wonderful people; 113,500 are living with HIV in the UK alone, and over 40million worldwide.
HIV does not stop us; what stops us is stigma, misinformation, and the decades-old statistics that are no longer true. We are just like anyone else; we just live with a virus in our blood.
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Now, 19 years after my diagnosis, I feel quite satisfied and lucky with my life. And most importantly, Im excited for what the future holds.
Do you have a story youd like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected].
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