to leak and stain and smell at the center of all attention

Back when I wrote about the fear of being found out, the fear that people I cared about would see within me and discover who I really was, a word I used to describe what that would be like was "disgust". A commenter on that post asked if I could go into what I meant about that, and I've been thinking about it... what is it about my inside to be disgusted about? Well, one answer is that my actual insides can be a little disgusting.
One image I get when I think about being found out is of someone barging in while I'm on the toilet, and at worst, while I'm in the middle of wiping myself. Another is that if I get too enthusiastic, too excited about something, if I really let go, there's a danger I might wet myself. I read about someone's most awkward sexual moment: when he shat himself in the throes of orgasm, and I was terrified to learn that such a thing could happen. If I were to dance closely with someone, I'd worry that I hadn't cleaned my underarms properly, or had forgot to change some piece of clothing; that I'd smell. If I were to get naked with someone, I'd worry that I hadn't cleaned my penis properly, that it would taste or look bad.
My body... I don't really know what to say about my relationship with my body. Sometimes, I'm not really aware of it at all, sometimes I'm hyperaware of it – this, I suspect, comes with the autism, or at least is magnified by it. I had some motor difficulties as a child, mild, but enough that it was noticed. A certain clumsiness, talking with a lisp, trouble learning how to hold a fork.
Well into my teens, I had problems with naming body parts: I knew the difference between an arm and a leg, but would frequently point to my elbow and call it a shoulder, and I couldn't quite tell where on my leg the hip or shin or ankle was.
And also a reluctance to take part in physical activity... Partly because I couldn't keep up with the other kids. Partly, as I've realized in later years, because I was overwhelmed and confused by the sensations that went with it. The things that happened with my body – sweat breaking out, nerves tingling, aches and pains being highlighted. Disturbed digestion, growing fatigue. Numbing of other senses. These sensations, they are so intense to me, so intimate.
So I suppose I don't get so well along with my body.
It's not that I'm particularly displeased with it. I... like it well enough, or don't have a strong opinion either way. I haven't been conscious enough of it to form a strong opinion. I know that some other people like it, because they have told me. I'm not particularly displeased with it – what I am is disturbed by it. It's been in the way a lot. It's been the locus of so many unpleasant sensations. And it's the source of a lot of unclean things...
My train of thought goes off in different directions here, and rather than try to fit them all together, I'll make a list of them and see where I end up.
1.
When I read what I just wrote, it brings to mind a number of recurring dreams. One is where I know how to fly, but I don't like it at all. Once I'm off the ground, I can't get back down. I struggle to touch down, but the ground repels me, and I'm dizzy. Another is where I need to move, but rather than obey me, my limbs just tingle dizzily. Or when I'm in a foreign city and need to go to the hotel, but I have absolutely no sense of direction.
I suppose these are pretty common dreams. The thing is when I think about them, and then about my body-awareness issues, the emotional content is the same.
By the way, I just had such a dream. I had been to my cabin on the Swedish coast, which was not on the coast but in Gothenburg, which was not in Sweden but in Spain. And now I needed to get to the airport. It was a long trek, I had to spend the night at a hotel on the way, and when I finally got there, I discovered that I had lost my blue schoolbag containing the family dog somewhere on the way. I had to find him before the rest of my family joined. Was he at the hotel? I hoped so, but no matter how far I walked, I know I didn't get any closer to it. In fact I wasn't getting anywhere at all.
2.
Physical exertion is one thing that will cause the body to leak. Mostly sweat, but bowels and bladder are also affected.
3.
While it doesn't actually happen, it's easy to call up the image of me stumbling, knocking things over, walking into people – it's apparently something I'm afraid of. In these images I will try to tense up, but the exertion makes me lose control of my bladder. This has actually happened. There was a year or two of my life, not so long ago, when I frequently wet myself just a little, and I couldn't understand what caused it. Then I noticed how the muscles used to push the bladder had been tied together with those I use to reach forward. The way fingers on the same hand can be bound to move together, you know... When I stopped doing that, the problem went away. One of many little aches and pains that reduced body-awareness can bring.
4.
The various body-sensations are the main reason I'm uncomfortable with physical activity, but there's also the matter of movement in the visual field. When I move fast, the world moves fast around me. Again, I don't know how is with others, but I think I'm more sensitive to movement than others.
The first time I sat in an open car... it was only a few years ago... the sensation was so intense I had to keep my eyes closed for several minutes before I got used to it. I get the same when I'm a passenger on a bike. Never learned to ride a bike myself, this could be some of the reason. And the one time I rode a horse – same reaction. The horse moved rather slowly, so maybe it's a vestibular thing as well?
Anyway, this also affects the bladder. Actually the beginning of those problems was on a plane trip. I suddenly began to leak, then became very conscious of such things – that's probably what made my muscle groups mix up. Plane trips are also more vestibular than visual... and come to think of it, so is my fear of walking into things. So maybe I should look into vestibular hypersensitivity someday.
5.
Another thing: Not quite keeping track of my body means not quite keeping track of hygienic issues, like how I smell... And even though my personal hygiene have been adequate for a long time, I still get the fear that I may have overlooked something, neglected or forgotten some crucial part, a food stain on my shirt, a sour smell from my t-shirt, and did I remember to put on deodorant, and is my hair maybe to greasy? (I have long hair.)
There are just so many parts, all interconnected, and while there probably is a system to it, that system is hard for me to grasp... like those dreams. The ground repels me, direction escapes me, and there's the tingle, a restless numbness. (And this description I think fits autism in general, not just the bodily aspects of it.)

*

I have mentioned several times how writing and revelation go so well together. How a piece of writing is energized by revelation, and how the setup-payoff relationship between mystery and revelation leads me to discover things as I write. This piece, an answer to "how does disgust fit into this?" have led me to some big ones.
First, hypersensitivity. I have been aware that I'm probably hypersensitive to proprioception and muscle senses, and that I probably have an unusual degree of control over specific muscles. But on a larger scale, motor skills and body awareness have been recurring issues. The image I just mentioned, of the tingle, the restless numbness, brings a bit of sense into how the hyper- and hyposensitivies fit together.
And it's become clearer to me than before that I also have issues with balance. Not in a way that hinders movement, but in a way that can make me tense up as I move.
The other thing is that my feelings of disgust, and their contribution to my fear of intimacy, are a quite clear matter of social anxiety. I haven't recognized that before because it's a different kind of anxiety than I'm used to. The anxiety I'm used to is the one with unpleasant sensations, the one that feels like fear. But other kinds of anxiety don't come with a high experience of fear. They make you avoid things before you even get to that point. That's how I've been avoiding intimacy.
I think a good step towards being open to intimacy would be to calibrate my understanding of personal hygiene. Get a better grip of the unknowns. Learn what types of leaks, smells, and stains are acceptable, even expected (I mean, the sexual side of intimacy usually involves all three), and what types should be avoided, and then some effective ways to take care of them. And I suspect that I can find this knowledge easily, that I can ask around in places where such questions are appropriate. Perhaps even you, the reader, have some idea of what I'll need to know?

About about Hirundo

If I could only collect my thoughts... Write them out, concisely with a beginning, middle and end, one idea at a time, and then collect them all. Shape my mind into a digital encyclopedia. Well-organized. Cross-referenced. Then I could link to all the relevant passages in online discussions where I needed to explain my thinking.

Strike that. It would be more honest to say: Then I wouldn't feel so alone.

When I started my current Norwegian blog, seven years ago, I wanted to create that digital encyclopedia. It was to a monologue of developing opinions and ideas, and part of a greater dialogue between my mind and the world. A philosophically minded project. Never mind that I didn't know anything about philosophical method (I still don't). Never mind that  I didn't know how to read up on a topic. (I still don't. I'm so confused by facts. There are so many. I don't know where to start, or when to wrap it up.)

My Norwegian blog didn't become what I wanted it to be. I didn't update very frequently, and I was rarely satisfied when I did. Then I began to discover that qualities like concise, logical, well-organized, were the exact opposite of how my writing worked. When I turned my writing style into something more  talkative, more personal, more meandering, interesting things began to happen. At the same time (and maybe not by coincidence) I began to understand a lot more about my previously very confusing life. I was diagnosed with Asperger's syndrome, and used that information to put many of the other pieces together. So the blog I had named "Things I am interested in" become about the most interesting thing of all: Me.

It didn't change the update frequency, but it did change the quality. (At least in my own eyes. For all I know, other people may have liked it all along.)

Another thing about my Norwegian blog is that I never wrote any kind of introduction to it. I think it was because I didn't want to make any promises. I didn't want to have a blog out there with a mission statement, a few posts, and nothing else... Actually I still don't. But at least, my more talkative writing style means my posts will stand better on their own, so even if this is the only update I ever make it wouldn't look so lonely out there.

No mission statement, though. Not for the long term. Maybe for the short term, I want to
- continue the exploration of my life that I began in my Norwegian blog
- refer people here from my other online activities, although not in an encyclopaedic way
- spend some time writing shorter pieces, in between some larger, more demanding projects
- get some practice writing in English, fitting my writing style onto another language (and on that matter, those of you who like to correct other people's language are more than welcome, only be aware that I sometimes make grammatical errors on purpose)
- maybe try to engage a bit with my readers, something I have been afraid of before
- now that I think of it, maybe I should try to attract and keep some readers
- to have a peephole into my thoughts somewhere out there on the web, so I don't feel so alone

For the long term, given that it survives this period of writing shorter pieces, the blog will have to develop on its own, because that is what personalized writing does.

I'll be wrapping this up now, making this post uncharacteristically short compared to my Norwegian ones, but at least filled with a characteristic level upon level of self-reference towards the end. And in an attempt to engage my readers: Uhm, any questions?