I maxed off the scale and have been heavily dissociated. The real diagnostic is the feeling that you're not actually inside your body. You're directing it, but it's more like animating it from outside, through what I call the "fibre optic link." It's that extra step that allows you to keep coping. Well, after the weekend, it will improve a little, I tell myself. I'll be past doing essentially three jobs at civil war. (I get to be Lieutenant, 1st Sgt, and Gun Sgt. for my gun, all simultaneously. Whee.)
My goddaughter invited me to go along to Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, last night. I needed that. I needed some silliness. And it must have done something, as I wasn't so dissociated, afterward.
Eventually, I'll have to post on the Dana Adobe event. It was Really, Really Fun, and I had a total blast (literal, as well, since I got to fire Goldie for the first time), and worth every bit of work. And Bob decided he was worn out enough that he headed back to El Centro on Saturday night, figuring to crash at a motel long about Ventura. So I was able to just kick back on Saturday night.
One more weekend, then I have a bit of a break...I may tell my old boyfriend that I won't be making it down to his wedding to his boyfriend. I just need a sanity break.