Growing up in the ’90s, I remember the “Just Say No” antidrug campaign and the fried egg commercials that said, “This is your brain on drugs.” I participated in a school group that performed skits about drug awareness and education. When I was in seventh grade, my dad went into treatment for drug addiction. I attended Al-Anon, NA and AA meetings with him. I knew of the dangers of using drugs and the risk of addiction. Despite not having taken my first drink until age 21, I quickly became a binge drinker and, for a short period, a blackout drunk.


In November 2014, my Nana, who helped raise me, suffered several massive strokes and was unconscious in the hospital. We were told she had no brain activity, and she was basically just waiting to die. I had never really lost anyone close to me before and didn’t want to feel that pain. There was no way weed and alcohol were going to make me happy because they are downers, but I thought meth might lift me up.


From the first hit, I felt invincible. The next day I went in to work still high, and when my manager said they needed to see me in the office, I thought I was getting fired. However, my parents had come to let me know that Nana had passed away peacefully at age 92. I didn’t want to be a part of reality anymore, so I checked out. 


My meth use started as a weekend hobby, then quickly turned into a 24/7 habit in less than two months. On New Year’s Eve, I met a new guy in my town, and we became involved. I discovered he was shooting meth, and I wanted to try it. I had completely abandoned all my drug education, as well as my common sense, for a guy, a drug and a needle.


At the end of February, I went to the local health department to get my birth control renewed. I didn’t hide the fact that I was using needles for meth, so they suggested an HIV test. A few weeks later, in March, I received a phone call from someone from the state health department asking me to meet him at the local health unit to discuss my test results. I was taken to a tiny room, and a man said that the confirmatory blood sample came back reactive—I was HIV positive. I was in shock and total disbelief and became inconsolable to the point that I could not drive myself home from the clinic.


After my diagnosis, I stopped using needles but continued to use meth. A few months later, in July, I started dating another loser who became verbally and physically abusive. We had been living in a shed with no electricity or water, and by September, I wanted to be done with it all. During a visit to his brother’s house, he began yelling at me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. I took a big kitchen knife and all my medications to the bathroom and shut the door, but I didn’t lock it. I thought that I had no other way out.


I took four anxiety pills, five sleeping pills and 20 blood pressure pills. If that didn’t work, I had the knife. He eventually came and found me and took me to my family and dumped me out of the car with my belongings. I don’t remember much of anything after that. I collapsed as soon as I walked into my parents’ house, and they called 911. EMS tried to give me activated charcoal, but it didn’t help. From that point on, I was unconscious.


At the hospital, I lay on a gurney with my head tilted down for blood flow. My blood pressure was dangerously low, and I only had four breaths per minute. My skin was cold and gray, my eyes were fixed, I was dying. The doctors assembled a special team from all around Little Rock to try to save me. They told my parents that they had done all they could and for them to prepare to say their goodbyes. But this wasn’t good enough for my dad, and he started speaking sternly in my ear, “Kimberly, stay with us. Kimberly, we need you here.” Every time he spoke my name, my heart rate would jump a bit.


I was in a coma for two days. On September 25, 2015, I woke up from the suicide attempt. Other than some minor memory loss, I had no immediate brain, liver or kidney damage. I had hit my rock bottom. While looking for a Christian rehab, I came across The Dorcas House, where I took classes on domestic violence and the 12 steps. I also got baptized.


I’ve been living with HIV for nine years and clean from meth for over eight years. My mess has turned into a message. As a community health worker, I get to educate people about HIV, stigma, prevention and other sexually transmitted infections. I try to deliver a diagnosis with compassion and empathy and spread awareness that HIV is manageable. I am living proof of God’s miracles and currently undetectable, making it impossible for me to transmit HIV through sex. This prevention method is known as U=U, or Undetectable = Untransmittable. If one gets and stays undetectable, it is estimated to be 100% effective.

In 2021, I gave birth to an HIV-negative son. 


What three adjectives best describe you?

Passionate, empathetic and optimistic.

 

What is your greatest achievement?

It’s a tie between getting and staying clean and becoming a mother to an HIV-negative son. 

What is your greatest regret?

Regrets keep people from moving forward. I don’t really have regrets, just lessons learned for the future. 

What keeps you up at night?

Being HIV positive is not a crime. Science has improved the quality of life for those living with HIV, but the laws are outdated, prejudiced and stigmatizing. 

If you could change one thing about living with HIV, what would it be?

To end the shame and stigma associated with being positive. HIV is a chronic but manageable illness. There shouldn’t be any shame in a diagnosis. 

What is the best advice you ever received?

Faith over fear, I am worthy, I am enough. Let go, let God. 

What person in the HIV community do you most admire?

My boss, Danny Harris. He works hard every day to ensure that we are doing everything we can to help end the HIV epidemic. He is our cheerleader and champion. He never loses sight of the big picture. 

What drives you to do what you do?

I’m a community health worker with the nonprofit Engaging Arkansas Communities. I want my life to be an example of hope and resilience for others living with HIV. I strive to thrive. 

What is your motto?

“Everything happens for a reason.” “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future,”
Jeremiah 29:11 

If you had to evacuate your house immediately, what is the one thing you would grab on the way out?

My child and my dog. 

If you could be any animal, what would you be? And why?

I would be a phoenix that rises from the ashes overcoming death. I feel like that is what I’ve done.