in and out

I am in my bathroom and I wash my face, smooth cream into my skin, brush my teeth and find myself with my hands down on the floor, and my spine parallel to the ground, I stretch and get into my body. Like physically getting my consciousness into my body.  I turn to the right and stretch my arm skywards and twist out my kidney.  I come back to neutral and go the other way, to the left.  I am continually shifting away from being in my body and then coming back in, out and in.  Out and in.  Out. and. in.  It feels like I'm remembering something I forgot and giving myself a gift when I come back in.  I forget it alot.  I separate myself, not in a way that I don't know what I'm actually doing when I go through my days, but just...detached...in a way that I don't even realize until I shift back into my body and become aware that I just wasn't there.

Is this an adoptee trait?
Is this a trait of someone who has lived through sexual abuse?

I wonder what informs my past.

My long drives upstate and back give me a space that as a mother of four I rarely have, where I'm in a confined space with nothing to do but sit and be in the moment.  In a zen way I can look back at that phrase and contemplate the proposal that that is my life's description.  But not really in that I have so much to do pretty much at ALL times; that's my perception.  I go in an out of overload all day, every day.  Another place I go in and out of. Overload and my body.  I get overloaded and I go out of my body.  I get into my mind or close psychic space to it and just hang out there until I've dissipated enough of the energy that I can handle grounding back into my body and absorbing the next surge.

I wonder if I am a minority in this way? Do other people experience this as a backdrop to their life, a characteristic of the page their life reads off of?

I have practiced yoga for several years, but this winter was the first time in a long time that I began doing aerobic exercise.  I think its totally tied into my familiarity with not being in my body.  It has seemed so insurmountable in the past that it was something I didn't even think about for YEARS.  I began running.  I could feel the weight of the impact of my feet on the ground on the front of my shins.  Like, I could feel the pressure of my body pushing groundward when my foot would hit the ground and I was feeling subtle pressures and feelings in my body that seeemd totally new to me.  Its a weird feeling that makes me wonder where I've been.

I wonder how life would be different if I melded my consciousness with my body more often than not. I assume it would be too painful; I'm not sure I would have the capacity to handle how much I would feel.