Tuesday night's dance class was good for me. For an hour, I danced with a clear head and felt completely present in my body. I held posture and focused on my breathing and felt strong. Got to hang with Ariel. Last night was The Skinny Bitches Show (aka, ANTM) with Agnes and Anna, wherein there was much eating of carbs (we had a tri-pasta night) and fruit (pomegranate, grapes, strawberries), plus the requisite chocolate. I also dyed Anna's hair for her, and thus got to have more Naked!AnnaTime (tm) wherein I worked on my Stupid Human Tricks. I can flutter my ribcage in a way that is vaguely disturbing and reminiscent of fish gills. Who knew?

texmorgan, your cookies also were a hit. I heard many an orgasmic moan. My roommate is addicted. Seriously, man. You should go into business. Thank you so much for sending me a batch.

Tonight is class with Bridget and then dancing at the Avalon with Chris and Sarah. Time to get back out on the floor. Step, step, rock-step. I am a good dancer, I will learn to be a better dancer with more partners, a fuller part of the community. Dancing connects me to other people, and I need that right now.

Tomorrow, I am taking back my room. That's right. Unpacking, sorting, cleaning, then a full smudge and cleanse. Agnes is helping, and maybe some other peeps, too. I kind of see my room as a symbol of my life right now. Disordered, chaotic, and not a place I want to spend a lot of time. It doesn't feel like home to me, which makes perfect sense because I've spent virtually no time there for the last three to four months. Hell, when I moved out for a few nights before Skyler and I made our breakup official, I slept on Dixie's couch because I couldn't bear to sleep in my own bed alone. And this week I've had about five really explicit stress nightmares, so it's time to reclaim the space. Time to wash the clothes. Sort the books. Throw away the wadded-up tissues. Unpack my boxes. Clear out the air. Recreate a place of power and serenity.

It's getting better, it is. I still have anxiety attacks, though not as many. I'm sleeping through more of the night. My appetite is so-so, but usually I get in dinner. Hell, I even shaved this morning. I was starting to look a wee bit like a Yeti. The point is that the grief, though constant, is less. I can focus on other things now for longer periods of time. This is encouraging in that the healing process is at least starting, so now I just have to keep the forward momentum going while I work it all out.