It’s the week before Pride, and all through my house, not a creature is stirring up trouble, not even a mouse.
YOU HEAR THAT, HATERS?
NOT A CREATURE.
LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.
Okay. Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, we can talk about self care.
I’ll be at my city’s pride festival for a total of twenty hours over a span of two days. I love every minute of it, but it’s taxing. It’s going to be hot, our booth will be crowded, and it’s that time of the month.
I’m trying not to focus on that. Instead, I’m taking it easy. Instead of starting my workouts on Sunday, I started yesterday. Instead of pushing myself on the treadmill, I’ve walked at work, at Target, and even around the yard.
I’ve eaten light meals. Sandwiches. Water. Lots of water. Greek yogurt for breakfast. No second helping of caffeine (okay, so that was an accident). Trying to get enough sleep.
I’ve talked to people I love. I’ve even scheduled time to see them next week, when the crazy will be back to a manageable level.
I’m ready for Pride, yes, but I’m also ready for Pride to be over.
As with any public event, I’m also considering the possibilities. Last year, the Orlando Pulse shootings reminded us how fragile we are, celebrating openly in a place where everyone can see us. Some people hate us for that very reason. That won’t stop us.
It only increases my hyper-awareness, which is already in the severe paranoia range. I’m ready for anything. If it’s my time, hey, I’ll miss you guys.
If it’s my time, I have one request for you. Don’t let them win. Don’t give in. Keep fighting. Keep celebrating. Keep being who you are.
Sometimes you need to go easy on yourself to do just that.