about
"I'm not here to fix you.
I'm here to listen."
I've been living with HIV for more than a decade, and undetectable for almost as long. Holding Space exists because I know how much difference it makes to talk to someone who genuinely understands.
When I was first diagnosed, I didn't need someone to fix me. I needed someone who wouldn't panic. Someone who could listen without judgement, answer the questions they could, sit with the ones they couldn't, and remind me that life wasn't over.
That's the space I hope to offer others.
Over the past year I've shared my own story more openly than I ever imagined I would — through two spoken-word pieces, Undetectable and Still Here. In my experience, it's rarely the virus that causes the deepest wounds. It's the stigma, the silence, and the stories we carry about ourselves.
Holding Space grew from that same place.
Not because I have all the answers. Not because I'm a counsellor or a doctor. And not because I believe everyone's journey should look like mine.
I'm simply someone who's walked this road for a while.
I know what it's like when an ordinary phone call changes your life. I know what it's like to wait for results, to replay conversations in your head, to wonder how — or whether — you'll tell someone you love.
I've sat with the fear. I've lived through the uncertainty. And I've discovered that life can become full, joyful and deeply meaningful again.
Sometimes what helps most isn't advice. It's knowing that the person on the other end of the conversation has been there too... and doesn't flinch.
If that's the kind of conversation you're looking for, I'd be honoured to hold that space with you.
— James
What this is built on
tap a word to read more
Presence
I don't rush. I don't interrupt. I stay.
Compassion
Every story deserves dignity.
Confidentiality
Trust is earned. Everything begins there.
Hope
HIV is one chapter. Not the whole story.
Humanity
Connection heals.
in their own words
A few reflections
Shared by men I've supported, with their permission.
"Right after my diagnosis, my head was spinning with medical info, but what I actually needed was just to talk to someone who had been through it. Speaking with James felt like taking a massive breath I'd been holding for weeks. No one was trying to fix me; I was just allowed to process."
— on being newly diagnosed
"I hadn't told a soul, and the secret was eating me alive. Saying it out loud for the first time was terrifying, but there was zero judgment. Just total understanding. It made me realise I don't have to carry this completely by myself."
— on carrying it alone
"Dating felt like an absolute minefield, and I was completely exhausted by the thought of disclosure. Having a private, no-pressure space to just voice those anxieties to someone who gets the reality of it completely shifted my perspective. I left the conversation feeling so much lighter."
— on dating and disclosure
"I've been positive for over a decade, and people assume you just 'get used to it.' But the emotional fatigue is real. It was incredibly validating to talk to a peer who understood that long-term exhaustion without me having to explain or justify it."
— on living with it long-term
"I didn't want therapy or medical advice — I had enough of that. I just wanted a normal conversation with someone on the same level. That's exactly what this is. It's just an open, safe room where you can be completely honest about where you're at."
— on wanting an ordinary conversation
"Not hiding. Not apologising.
Not broken. Just here."
— from Still Here
If any of this feels familiar,
I'd like to hear from you.