She makes me think about the feeling of being in the world, but separated from it, when I was depressed after the birth of my first child.
Her post also makes me think about how routines can be a way of coping when your emotions dissociate you from existence.
To people watching me I must have seemed entirely normal; I must have looked like someone behaving normally... if I had been failing to cook meals and do laundry and turn in homework assignments... if I had been wandering through the streets in my nightgown, someone would have stepped in and done something about it. I was protected, I suppose, by the fact that all those things I needed to do were routines that I knew upside down and backwards and could have done in my sleep; that was enough to make it possible for me to do them in the strange sleep that I actually was in at the time. I may have done them very badly; I'll never know.
This is almost exactly how I felt after giving birth: in a strange sleep.