Me, lapping it up in the parade. Thanks to my friend, Jesse Calvert, for the pic.

It takes everyone a while to recover from Pride, and I’m no different. I didn’t stop partying from the Thursday night to Sunday. So, I was an absolute zombie on Monday. Physically, I’m feeling fine now, but this is the second or third year where it has taken me the week to emotionally recover and to stop beating myself up for what I didn’t do.

I had a great weekend; it was one of my best Prides since moving to the city (coming into the city and getting a hotel room for the weekend is a very different experience and one that I don’t think I will ever top). Yet, I still wish I had done more. On Sunday morning, I had to be up early to have breakfast with a provincial politician so decided not to go to a club Saturday night. It was a lovely time and I’m glad that I went with a good night’s rest, but I am still mad at myself for not staying out all night.

I will also admit that Pride has a darker, lonely side to it. There is of course the fact that I am single. It’s a brilliant sight to see a couple walking through the crowd, hand in hand, but it does make you face your own empty hand. I have found myself thinking about my most recent boyfriend this week. More importantly though, I think I have an unrealistic idea that I need to have every hour of the weekend planned with friends, or I feel excluded because of my disability. This is despite knowing full well that everyone finds that they are alone at some point during the weekend. Besides, I actually was with people for most of the weekend.

I think the problem is I get swept up in the build up to Pride, and the endless pictures posted on Facebook afterwards, so much so that I set myself up for feelings of failure. Sometimes I forget that I, more than most, can’t be everywhere and do everything. I need to remind myself that I would have been an absolute wreck on Sunday if I hadn’t gone to bed Saturday night, and that I was not invited to that party I keep seeing pictures of because it was up two flights of stairs. So, here’s my challenge for myself for next year; to do as much as I can, to remember that I am indeed a part of the group, and to let the good feelings linger a few more days.