I Blamed Myself for HPV — But Should I Have?

Hi, It’s PM_YOUR_WITNESSES, and this is how I faced my HPV diagnosis.

I remember the moment the phone rang. It was my gynecologist, and her voice was calm but serious. "You tested positive for HPV 31, and we found some cervical changes. We’ll need to do more tests." The words hung in the air like a thick fog. HPV? Cervical changes? More tests? I had no idea what this meant for me, but I knew one thing — I was scared.

When you hear something like that, your mind races. You search for answers, try to piece together the unknown, and in doing so, you fall into the endless pit of worst-case scenarios. Was this my fault? Would I be okay? What did this mean for my future? At 25, I never imagined I’d be facing something like this, and yet, here I was.

And now, I want to share my story — not because it’s easy, but because I know there are others out there feeling the same fear, shame, and confusion that I did. If you’re reading this, know that you’re not alone.

What was the first thought that ran through your mind when your doctor said “HPV 31”?

At this point in my life, I didn’t really know much about HPV, so I felt an immediate wave of fear. It was as if everything around me became white noise, and the only thing I could hear was my own heartbeat pounding in my chest. I grabbed my phone and started searching, my hands shaking as I typed the words into Google. And the more I read, the more terrified I became. HPV was all I could think about for the first few days. It consumed my thoughts, my emotions, my entire being.

I cried — a lot. I felt completely alone, even though I logically knew I wasn’t the first or last person to receive this diagnosis. But logic doesn’t always win against emotions. I felt dirty, like something inside me had been fundamentally altered. The sadness and fear eventually turned into anger, but it was anger at myself. I kept replaying past choices, wondering where I went wrong, blaming myself for not being more careful with my health. It took time — longer than I’d like to admit—to come to terms with it.

Are you more afraid of medical procedures or the unknown aspect of what could come next?

As I read about HPV, I also learned about the medical procedures that might be necessary. Words like "biopsy" and "colposcopy" stood out, and with each new term, my anxiety grew. I wasn’t just scared of the procedures themselves — I was terrified of the results they might bring. I kept trying to convince myself that everything would be fine, but a small voice in the back of my mind whispered, "What if it’s not?" That voice became my constant companion, always there to remind me of the worst possibilities.

I had to sit with that fear. There was no way around it, only through it. Everyday felt like a battle between hope and dread. I wanted to trust my body, to believe that I would be okay, but the waiting, the uncertainty — it was crushing. There’s something uniquely painful about knowing that something inside you is out of your control and that you have no choice but to wait and see how it plays out.

Do you think people are educated enough about HPV?

Absolutely not. Before my diagnosis, I had a vague understanding of HPV, but I had no idea how common it was or how many different strains existed. And when I started telling people about it, I quickly realized that most of them knew even less than I did. Some didn’t know what HPV was at all. Others assumed it only affected people who were “irresponsible” or had multiple partners. The lack of awareness and education about this virus is staggering.

I think there should be more conversations, more campaigns, more education. If people knew more about HPV, they’d make informed choices about their health, and those diagnosed wouldn’t feel so alone or ashamed. No one deserves to feel like they’re navigating this in isolation, yet so many people do.

Do you trust the medical system to handle your case properly?

Finding the right doctor was a struggle. I knew that I needed someone who wouldn’t just see me as another case file, but as a person — a scared, anxious person looking for guidance. I spent hours reading reviews, trying to find someone compassionate, someone who would listen.

I hope I made the right choice. I want to believe that my doctor will do everything in their power to help me, but the truth is, trusting the medical system isn’t easy, especially when you hear so many stories of women being dismissed or ignored. For now, all I can do is hope.

What’s the scariest part of waiting for more test results?

The unknown. The endless "what ifs." My brain doesn’t like uncertainty, and this diagnosis has thrown me into the deepest kind of uncertainty. Every day, I run through scenarios, trying to prepare myself for every possible outcome. But no amount of mental preparation makes the waiting easier.

There are moments when I feel fine, when I can distract myself with work or friends, but then, out of nowhere, the fear hits me again. And all I can do is wait.

Have you thought about how this experience will shape your views on health moving forward?

I will definitely be more careful about my health. I will listen to my body, and I will take better care of it.

This experience has been a wake-up call. Before this, I never really thought much about my health beyond the basics. Now, I realize how important it is to be proactive, to get regular checkups, and to not take my body for granted. I don’t ever want to feel this scared and unprepared again.

What’s one thing you wish you could control about this situation but can’t?

I didn’t take care of myself, and I didn’t use protection, and that’s how I got HPV. I felt angry, like I said. I blamed myself for it and wished this didn’t happen. I wish that I could go back in time and stop myself from making this mistake, but I know that I can’t.

Regret is a heavy thing to carry. I’ve spent so much time replaying the past, wondering what I could have done differently. But the truth is, beating myself up won’t change anything. All I can do now is move forward, make better choices, and educate myself so that I never feel this powerless again.

Has this diagnosis made you rethink how society treats women’s health in general?

I think that society doesn’t take women’s health seriously enough. Thankfully, I didn’t have this kind of experience, but I know a lot of women who had issues with their health and doctors didn’t take them seriously enough. They had to go to multiple doctors just to get the help that they needed. It’s really sad.

Women’s health is often treated as an afterthought, and that’s terrifying. The fact that so many women have to fight just to be heard by their doctors is unacceptable. HPV, periods, reproductive health — these should be topics we talk about openly, without shame or stigma. But instead, so many of us suffer in silence, too afraid to speak up.

How would you react if someone tried to shame you for your diagnosis?

I wouldn’t be around someone who would try and shame me.

I refuse to let anyone make me feel less than because of this. HPV is common, and it does not define my worth or who I am as a person. If someone tries to shame me, that says more about them than it does about me.

Do you think there will ever be a time when HPV is seen as normal and unshameful?

Maybe one day it will, but we still have a long way to go before it happens.

The stigma surrounding HPV and other STIs is deeply ingrained, but I hope that as more people become educated, the shame will fade. No one should feel dirty or unworthy because of a virus that so many people have. I hope that future generations won’t have to feel the fear and isolation that I felt.

If you’re reading this and you’ve been diagnosed with HPV, I want you to know that your feelings are valid. It’s okay to be scared, to feel overwhelmed, to have moments where it feels like too much. But please, please know this: You are not alone.

HPV doesn’t define you. It doesn’t make you less worthy, less lovable, or less deserving of a full, happy life. I know it feels heavy right now, but you will get through this. I’m getting through it, and so will you.

Also Read: Mother's herpes journey (age 24)