I'm in the back of my head.
That's the way it feels sometimes. Last night was a prime example of it. Nora and I have been on a whirlwind (well kinda, sorta, maybe not so much) trip. She was working in Virginia mid week, I in MInnesota. Thursday I started driving south towards Oklahoma, spending the night in Kansas. Friday morning she got on a plane to catch a connecting flight in Atlanta. I picked her up at the airport, we relaxed for a few hours and then went to watch my Boston Celtics defeat the nefarious OKC Thunder. Yesterday we got up and started driving north. 9 hours later we stopped in Des Moines, Iowa for the night. For kicks we went to an NBA G league game.Now I"m waiting for her to wake for the day and we're off to the Spam museum. Later tonight we are going to see our hometown Timberwolves play a game back home. Phew.
I don't remember a whole lot of last night. I spent most of the evening living in the back of my head. At least that's how it feels to me. When I'm doing well, I'm up at my eyes, seeing the world. Alert. Aware. Involved. Last night I was none of those things.
Maybe it's weird to think about where you are in your head, but I can't shake thinking of it in such terms. I've done some internet research and I think what I'm going through is also called detachment, or dissociation.
When I'm hanging out back there, everything "feels" far away from me. All the noises around me meld together. Stereotypically, it is like being in a dream. It's a weird mixture of feeling uncomfortable and secure at the same time. Sure I may not feel in control of any of my surroundings, but I'm far enough "away" that nothing is going to get to me.