This weekend, Manchester Pride is happening, and I’ve decided to steer clear of the city center. In fact, my long-term plan is to move away entirely. It’s not that I don’t trust myself to stay away, but being close to the festivities would likely trigger my anxiety. I’m in a different headspace now, and with my impulsive, racey ADHD brain, I know I’d be torn. Thoughts like “Who would I go with?” or “What’s the point?” would flood my mind. I’d be overly conscious of people looking at me, and since I don’t feel like my old self right now, the idea of being stared at is uncomfortable. I also worry about running into people from my past, and I don’t want them to see me when I’m not feeling my best.
To be honest, I just don’t have anyone I can trust to share that space with me—and even if I did, those people wouldn’t be at Pride anyway. But truthfully, I don’t want to go. This isn’t about justifying my decision; it’s about recognizing that I genuinely don’t enjoy it anymore. I used to, but not anymore. The level of drug use has become overwhelming. Even if I don’t see people openly using on the street, the smell lingers (and I have a pretty trained nose, haha). And that’s just during the day.
On a different note, I had a bit of a travel-related meltdown last night. Despite everything working against me, I eventually reached my destination, but it was a late night filled with stress. My anger and frustration are things I still need to work on—I struggle with handling even simple situations. I also recognize that I need to work on my anxiety, which tends to flare up during stressful times.
That said, my health is improving. The headaches I used to get have either stopped or become much less frequent. My GP prescribed naproxen, which has worked wonders on the tension headaches that used to radiate up my head.
Right now, I’m in a place that reconnects me to the earth, and I’m happier than ever. My mental health continues to improve, and I’m grateful for that.
