For the last two weeks, ever since I found out I was going to have a roommate here at Lindyfest, I’ve been worried about snoring. I honestly don’t think I do it all the time, but friends have mentioned it. Plus, it’s woken ME up enough times to merit concern. Friends tell me not to worry, that lots of people snore, but I’m always so envious of people who don’t. You know, pretty sleepers, people who just lie there perfectly still all night and wake up looking like they walked out of a magazine the next morning. Not me–I toss and turn, make noises. Sometimes my legs jerk. Hell, I probably even fart when I sleep. I always wake up with my hair stuck up, looking like I just escaped a barroom brawl.

It’s so embarrassing.

On the way up to the room last night, I thought, Don’t freak out, Marcus. People snore. Maybe your roommate will snore too and it will be something you two can bond over. But no such luck. I walked in the room, about four in the morning, and it was complete silence. Like so quiet I wondered if he had died. Anyway, I crawled in my side of the bed (there’s only one bed in the room), and all I could think about was snoring. I probably would have stayed awake all night worrying about what my body might do if I were to nod off, but I’d taken some Benadryl (for a rash I have where no one wants a rash), and they kicked in. Five hours later my roommate woke me up for breakfast, sort of shouting my name–Marcus! Later I stumbled into the bathroom, noticed drool on my shirt, and thought, Yep, definitely snored.

But seriously, what can you do?

I’d honestly intended to take a nap after breakfast since I would have had the room to myself, but I got caught up in a good conversation, then decided to check out today’s dance classes. For the most part, I didn’t participate. I did stand up a couple times to go through some footwork, but I have this effing rash (where no one wants a rash), and almost any movement is uncomfortable. Seriously, this skin irritation is itching nonstop despite all the things I’m doing that the dermatologist told me to do, and dancing doesn’t make it any better. Good thing I’m not at a dancing convention with dance classes all day and dances all night.

Oh wait.

Otherwise, things are going really well. I’ve enjoyed watching classes, and I’m doing my best to strike up conversations with people, or at least smile or say hello. So far everyone has responded positively, and I actually feel like I’m making friends. Well, except for that guy in the bathroom. He kind of rushed off. Maybe he didn’t appreciate my peeking under his stall. (That’s a joke, Mom.) But seriously, as someone who has often felt “left out” or un-included at larger dance events, this is big progress.

Now it’s eight in the evening, and tonight’s dance starts in an hour. It’ll go until five in the morning, so it’s not like I have to be there for every minute. Still, I would like to finish the blog before it starts and perhaps even take a nap before I dance, dance, dance. Really, I don’t know that I’ll do that much dancing. In more than one way, my body is telling me to take it easy. Maybe this is a good thing. In the past I’ve always felt like I had to dance every minute or, I don’t know, impress people. Having been through the ringer these last several months, I’m more subdued. Now I’m content to simply be me–me who sometimes snores, me who has a rash where no one wants a rash, whatever.

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the more I learn to love and accept myself (snoring, rashes, and every other “embarrassing” thing), the better my experience is with those around me. Maybe this is the magic of self-acceptance. Once you know who you are and are okay with that, you can open up, you can talk to anyone and not be afraid of rejection. Not that others won’t ever reject you, you just don’t have to be afraid of their rejection because you’re no longer living for their approval. If you have it, great. If you don’t, you’ve still got the approval of the one that matters, that one in the mirror with drool on their shirt.

[The above photo is me doing a famous swing dance move that’s appropriately titled “Itch and Scratch.”]