Hi, I am Brandon, and this is how I found my way forward after betrayal, pain, and self-doubt.

When I was first diagnosed at 26, I thought my life was over. I went through a rollercoaster of emotions — disappointment, betrayal, shame, fear, uncertainty. It felt like my entire world had been shattered, and I had no idea how to put the pieces back together. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that healing is not about forgetting. It’s not about wiping away the past like it never happened. Healing is about moving forward, about learning to live with what’s happened and finding a way to build a beautiful life in spite of it.

This is my story.

What went through your mind when you realized you might have been exposed to an STI?

At the time, I was in what I believed was a monogamous relationship. It was also the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, and like many others, I was hyper-aware of my health. I remember feeling sick for months — exhaustion, random symptoms that didn’t make sense. I convinced myself it was allergies, or stress, or even COVID. The idea that it could be an STI didn’t even cross my mind.

At this point my boyfriend started dropping hints. “We should get tested,” he’d say, over and over. Something about the way he said it made me uneasy. I should have known then, but I was in denial, clinging to the belief that we were exclusive, that we were safe. When he finally got tested, his results came back positive for HIV, Chlamydia, and Gonorrhea. That was the moment everything clicked. The months of sickness, the unanswered questions — it all made sense. I knew, in my gut, that I had been exposed too. Fear hit me like a tidal wave, but it was quickly replaced by anger, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of shame. When I got the official diagnosis, I was called into the doctor's office during my lunch break at work and after I heard the news, I just went back to my car and cried for 2 hours. I couldn’t begin to comprehend the news I was given. 

Did you feel ashamed, even though you did nothing wrong?

Absolutely, and that’s one of the hardest things to deal with. Logically, I knew I wasn’t at fault — I had trusted someone who betrayed me. But emotionally, I felt dirty. I felt stupid. I had always been careful, educated, and responsible when it came to sex, yet here I was, dealing with something I had always assumed wouldn’t happen to me.

The stigma surrounding STIs, especially HIV, is brutal. It isolates you. It makes you question your worth, your future, your ability to be loved. I was drowning in self-blame. However, with time I’ve realized something: this could happen to anyone. STIs don’t care how educated you are, how safe you think you’re being. The only way to fight the shame is to talk about it, to remind ourselves and others that this isn’t a punishment — it’s just something that happened and now we have to deal with it.

Do you think people talk enough about the emotional trauma of an STI scare?

Not at all. We talk about the physical risks, the treatments, the prevention but we don’t talk enough about the emotional toll. The anxiety of waiting for results. The gut-wrenching guilt, even when you’ve done nothing wrong. The fear that no one will ever love you again.

When I was first diagnosed, I felt completely alone. I had no idea where to turn or who to talk to. It took me a long time to find support groups and people who understood. If conversations about STI-related trauma were more normalized, if we didn’t treat it as something shameful and secretive, so many people wouldn’t have to suffer in silence.

When did you first feel like something wasn’t right in your relationship?

Looking back, the signs were there. My ex kept pushing for STI testing in a way that didn’t make sense. Situations would happen, obvious lies were told. I even caught him in several lies. We had both been tested at the beginning of our relationship, and we were supposed to be exclusive. Why was he suddenly so insistent? It felt off.

I was in denial. I wanted to believe we were fine. I wanted to believe he wasn’t hiding anything. Deep down, though, I knew. Sometimes, your gut knows before your brain is ready to accept it. And when the truth finally came out, it shattered every ounce of trust I had. I tried for several months after that to make things work and to forgive him, but the constant lying and avoidance of responsibility became unbearable. 

How do you feel when you see people in happy, seemingly perfect relationships?

Now, I feel happy for them, but in the early days it was painful. I resented couples who seemed carefree, untouched by betrayal or trauma. I wished I could have that innocence back.

There were nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering why this had happened to me, angry that I let it happen. As time passed, I learned something important — no relationship is perfect. Everyone has struggles. And happiness is possible, even after heartbreak. I had to remind myself that I deserved love too, that I wasn’t damaged or unworthy. And now, years later, I am in a loving, healthy marriage. It’s proof that healing is real.

What is the hardest part about healing from this?

The hardest part is not letting my past dictate my present. Even five years later, I catch myself wondering “what if?” I think about the life I could have had if things had been different. If I hadn’t been betrayed. If I hadn’t gotten sick.

I’ve also learned that dwelling on the past only steals my present. When I feel myself slipping into that mindset, I try to focus on what I can control — my health, my happiness, my future. It’s not easy, but it’s necessary and it takes constant intentionality on my thoughts and mindset.

Do you feel like you’ll always carry this pain with you?

Yes, I do. This isn’t something you just forget. It changed me in ways I never expected. It forced me to confront parts of myself I had never faced before. It left scars that don’t just fade. Ultimately, it has affected my daily, monthly, and annual routines for the rest of my life. 

However, I also believe that pain can be managed. It doesn’t have to define me. I am learning, every day, how to live with it without letting it consume me.

What would it take for you to feel safe in a relationship again?

It took time. It took patience. It took a partner who was willing to understand my fears. The first year of my new relationship was rough — I had so many triggers, so many moments of panic, but my husband listened. He reassured me. He gave me the space to heal without judgment.

Communication was key. I had to be brutally honest about my fears and boundaries and he had to prove, over time, that he was someone I could trust. Love after betrayal is possible, but it takes work and lots of vulnerability.

Do you think love can ever be truly unconditional after betrayal?

I think love can survive betrayal, but it takes immense effort. Forgiveness is not easy, and trust, once broken, is hard to rebuild.

For me, I didn’t stay with the person who betrayed me. I moved forward with someone new, someone who earned my trust from the ground up. That’s why I believe love can be unconditional if both people are willing to put in the work.

What does “moving on” actually mean to you — forgetting, forgiving, or simply surviving?

I don’t believe in “moving on.” That phrase implies leaving the past behind, as if it never happened. Unfortunately, that’s impossible.

What I do believe in is moving forward. I haven’t forgiven my ex and I may never, but I refuse to let what he did define the rest of my life. Instead, I take what I’ve learned and use it to help others because no one deserves to feel as alone as I once did. The pain that I felt in my car that day, is something that I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. 

If you’re struggling with something similar, please know — your pain is valid, but it does not have to be your forever. You can move forward. You can find love, happiness, and peace. I did, and so can you.

Also Read: Woman's HIV experience (age 25)