One day at a local thrift store, I found a jigsaw puzzle in its original sealed plastic bag, but no box. I felt a slight bit of apprehension about doing a puzzle without a picture, but I was more thrilled about the idea of working through a challenge without knowing its final outcome.

My life has been enriched by many experiences, some with perceived outcomes but most unknown. One of the unknowns was being diagnosed with HIV.

I walked into my doctor’s office expecting to receive a clean bill of health and go about my day. I remember sitting on the doctor’s exam table, with my legs swinging back and forth, excited for a cross-country road trip I was taking in a couple days. My distracted energy was brought back to the present moment, when my doctor entered the room and put a hand on my leg. Her motherly touch comforted me as she stated, “You tested positive for HIV.”

I froze in a state of confusion. That’s not me. I’m not the kind of person to get HIV—as if I was better than those people. Immediately I felt a pit in my stomach, filled with self-disappointment. In addition, I felt dirty.

Feelings of being dirty are unfortunately all too common for those of us diagnosed with a sexually transmitted infection like HIV. Self-disappointment, however, was the result of growing up in a large, very conservative family, some of whom preached that AIDS was God’s curse. If I chose to be gay, they told me, my likely path would be HIV, then AIDS, then death.

For the gay community, I wanted to prove my homophobic family members wrong. I can be gay, have a healthy, committed relationship, and never contract HIV. Instead, I was on the path to proving them right.

I was confused, angry, sad, just a mix of emotions I wasn’t ready to face. In looking back I realize I was stuck in the stage of grief called “denial.” I was trying to convince myself that I did not have HIV. It was simply the wrong puzzle piece; it didn’t and couldn’t fit into my life.

With the help of counseling, I broke free from the denial stage, not quite to acceptance, but far enough to start understanding how these life pieces perhaps could fit together.

Diving deep into talk therapy I realized HIV wasn’t even my main issue. The main issue was shame I harbored unconsciously. Shame that I contract HIV, shame that I judged others with this disease, I needed to focus on these roots of shame. Some say that the first step in moving forward is awareness.

I wasn’t aware of how I was showing up in the world. Specifically on first dates, because they were so difficult after my diagnosis. Back then I would put off a certain hurried, insecure energy, practically introducing myself, in one quick breath, “Hi, I’m Andrew…. I’m HIV-positive.”

Unconsciously I believe I was trying to push people away out of fear of passing along this virus.

Now I realize I tried to simplify the world through labeling myself and accepting the way others labeled me, all in an effort to predict a future outcome. I thought I could play it safe and predict what may happen, but it’s a trick the mind was playing on me. My mind is not a supercomputer where data is entered, and it spews out an accurate result of what to expect. The Universe works in more mysterious and complex ways than a simple label can epitomize.

For example, with the self-limiting label “I am HIV-positive,” I was giving too much power to HIV. I am more than HIV. This diagnosis was not going to define and direct my life. After counseling and self-reflection this declarative, fear laced label morphed to a simple factual statement “I am living with HIV.”

Saying that right now, I am living with HIV, feels light and fluid in my body. The stuck, insecure energy replaced with strength to move forward.

Over many dates, and many rejections, I realized this slight shift of language did make an impact on how I showed up, especially after one particular first date.

I met Luis, a sexy Venezuelan man, at a party.

We flirted, respectfully handsy with each other, and shared a lovely conversation as well. After hours of sharing stories, hooked by each word expressed through his erotizing accent, I was smitten. We kissed and became lost in craving each other’s moist lips.

It was clear we both wanted more than a kiss though. I slightly pulled back, looked him in the eyes and simply stated, “I want to share something before we move forward, I’m living with HIV.”

Dead. Silence.

I used to dread such silence. Filling the air with more words to avoid discomfort. Which was my way of saving the moment from awkwardness. But at this point in my life, I wasn’t going to control the outcome, I knew if I just let the silence be then things would work out.

During that moment of silence his energy shifted, clearly indicating his discomfort with my HIV status. In that moment it was certainly disappointing that we lost our sexual chemistry, but I felt strong in who I was and the way in which I disclosed. Because of how he pulled back, physically and energetically, I thought it was the last I’d see of Luis.

A few days later I got a text from him though, asking me out on another date. I accepted. We ended up having about 8 dates over a couple months—I still recall cuddling up with him at night, how we’d wrap our bodies together. We seemed like two pieces that fit perfectly!

On one of our dates, I asked him why he wanted to continue seeing me when he was clearly uncomfortable with the fact that I was living with HIV. I tend to acknowledge the elephant in the room. He explained how growing up in Venezuela his family barely talked about gay people, let alone HIV, so he realized how scared he was of this secretive, yet deadly disease. Then he said, “It was the way you told me. You were so calm and confident I wanted to learn more about you and what living with HIV meant.”

Luis was not the guy I was meant to be with, but it was an experience I’m glad I had because I got to see evidence of the empowering shift I had made. Being diagnosed with HIV was unexpected, but now, in retrospect, I see how it paved the way for an opportunity to enrich my life, beyond simple labels, by realizing the core of who I am.

And that’s what I hope to do, learn and grow, by challenging old labels and curiously approaching life, both from experiences I choose, and those I don’t. It’s like my jigsaw puzzle from the thrift store. I may not know ahead of time the outcome, but if I just slow down, considering one piece at a time, eventually my picture comes together.