Pain is my pilot

Pain is my pilot, my controller, my guide, my false, omnipotent god that dictates every move in my life.
Mostly I'm trying to avoid its iron, bloody fist, taking detours, being stopped cold in my tracks forced to feel and be.
I believe each individual, has within, a dark pool, each having a different depth. Within the dark pool we cast all the things, the events, the choices, the feelings...that we don't want to see or acknowledge.
My pool is pitch black, a mile deep, covered in opaque scum...and the place where, I want to say, the place where my soul dwells but that would sound really bad, so let's say that the pool is the place where I spend the majority of my time, along the murky water's edge, trying to collect the pieces of my soul that have been drowned there.
You see, so much of me is plunged within the pool that I am nothing without it.
When my body hurts, when the pain has grabbed me by the balls, I'm forced to change. I'm forced to look at my pathetic self and forced into one of three actions: 1) avoid the pain, self-medicate, switch, sleep. 2) a dress the underlying issue. Examine the piece of pool scun that has surfaced and thrown itself in my face or 3) ensure, ignore.
My life has always been piloted by avoiding as much pain as possible. Avoiding people, situations, change in routine, memories, flashbacks and dreams that show me the truth of my past.
You cannot see me bleeding because it's all on the inside.
You cannot hear me screaming because of the soundproof walls, the barriers and my ability to scream turned inside.
You cannot ask me to forget that which is a part of my soul, the painful hideous events that I ran from, that I hid, all of that is pieces of me.
And oh so dark, you've never seen a night as dark.
Who I am...if I were to date say...would make you turn away in disgust and run.
Where am I going and why?
Just thoughts from within, from hours in exhaustive contemplation trying to avoid the pain that seems to have arisen like a sun ear, angry and sad, tall and broad.
Completely sober...
Life is deep, for some
My pool is wide
I'm not afraid
It's just who and what I am

After the Party.. Being Social

I attended a party today. It was the first true social event, other than funerals, that I had been to in over a decade. Yes, a decade. I had a wonderful time interacting, having real conversations, with over half a dozen people over 2 hours.

I was so proud of myself. I didn't feel an ounce of anxiety or a single bolt of panic. I commended myself, feeling like I've reached a milestone I never thought I'd see.

A few hours later, autistic reality hits. Sure I spent about an hour flapping with a racing mind, but my distress simply grows.

My head is full of conversations, not just lying around repeating themselves and being analyzed, but fighting convos vying for attention, to be remembered and picked apart.

It's like fighting in my head and it hurts. My head hurts even after a couple of numbing drinks.

The flapping stopped, but my hands are clenching and my feet want to run. I'm near tears. Okay, I am in tears and I don't know exactly why. It's high distress, not a little discomfort. A pounding pain more than a dull ache.

I try to distract myself with television, music, video games but my head keeps pounding with the images, words, laughter and chitty chatty.

Im having difficulty calming down, dispersing the events of the party and finding solid ground again.

Okay, so in a way I did super well today. And in another way, its causing me great distress.

Buoy Red, First Painting in the Merboat, Newport Fishing Boat Series

Ah, I'm pretty thrilled with my latest painting. I adore the red buoy against the contrast of black and white.
I'm fascinated by boats, in their lines and symmetry. This was very enjoyable to paint.

Last week I spent two days walking the Newport docks, taking pictures of boats I'd like to paint. I have three that I will create for sure. This is the first.

On The Day She Left

12" x 24"
Acrylic on Wood
Often times I ask myself, how am I feeling? As I struggle to put words to emotions. Instead of words, I see an image.
This painting is born from that question. I censored myself for days, refusing to create an image in which a gun is present. I abhor guns in all their forms and for public and private reasons.
The image refused to recede. It bothered me until I brought it to life.
I love how this painting turned out. It's a powerful image for me. It says more than i ever could with words.

10 Months Old Autistic Me, painting

As Above As Below, the latest painting

2" x 2" acrylic on wood

Child Prostitute..the latest

I'm continually surprised by new revelations in therapy. This whole being a child prostitute for my dad and his cohorts is still pretty new, discovered in only the past year or so. It seems that there were two groups that we would frequent and were actively part of.
I had no idea. That a parent would subject a child to that, for money and, And, because I know this was so important to him, for the prestige.
I made a good deal of money for him. Its kind of odd that mother never questioned him about it. You know, those evenings or days dad and I would go out together and come home with money or bags of groceries.
The other aspect that gets me is how often I was drugged either with medication or alcohol during these outings. I mean, exposing a child frequently to drugs and alcohol can't have been in my best interest, but it helped me tolerate it, made the time pass more quickly, made it easier to forget.
These are the current memories which are surfacing and being dealt with.
It's pretty amazing how much the mind can hold onto and hide.
I didn't think that there were that many men that would do easily engage in such an activity. A lot to think about.

An Incredible New Painting

Bloodstream
12" x 12"
Acrylic on wood

I don't like to shower

It's finally dawned on me that I shower much less than most. All things considered, I average about 1 shower every week or two. It got me thinking. Why is this seemingly normal and mainstream thingy, showering, such a hardship for Aspie me? Here goes:
Not showering tends to keep people away. Just sayin'. I'm not looking for anyone to randomly start chatting with me at length; not looking for a date or to listen to someone else's issues. It helps make people leave me alone.
Ha, personal space. It does allow me a great amount of personal space. People aren't drawn to me and that is often a good thing. Almost like a layer of weird, smelly armor, you know?
It's time consuming. I have to stop everything else that I am doing. I have to stop my wanderlust, daydreaming and incessant thinking. It's a distraction.
I have to plan the shower. What am I going to change into?
I need to check the time so that my hair gets dry before I go to bed.
I make sure the front door is locked.
The bath towel is hung over the shower rod so that I can easily reach it to dry my face. I use it frequently to dry my face soon after it gets splashed. I double dry if I think I have any hair product erroneously came near my eyes. I use the towel, also, to get any stray water that has egregiously made it into my ears. Don't like it.
I've been in this new apartment about a year now. The tub drain is this crazy "toe tap" thingy whereby you push down on the stopped to close and then push again for the drain to open. It's a bit of a crazy, newfangled strange thingy that still makes me stop, think and give it the stink eye. it does boggle my brain to no end.
There is this whole getting naked thing. Not crazy about it. Showering is the only time I ever get completely naked. Naked always has felt highly vulnerable and I avoid it as much as possible.
I fiddle with the water temperature to make sure it is as close to right as possible.
Once in the tub, double check the shower curtain to make sure the openings are covered. Don't want to get water on the floor.
Next, I'm required to get completely wet. Sensory Overload to the max. I swear, I can feel each and every droplet of the thousand drop deluge. I'm not used to the touch, the feel of water on my skin, In So Many Places. Honestly, I think Sensory Overload is my biggest reason for taking so few showers.
In the shower each step is planned: wet hair, shampoo, rinse, conditioner, apply soap to various body areas, rinse thoroughly.
The sound of the shower is really kind of loud. I mean, you can't hear anything outside of it. Can't hear if the phone rings or someone's at the door, or if someone is calling for you. It's a closed and highly contained environment. It's like I have to voluntarily cut myself off from the rest of the world to get washed up.
I have to measure out the correct amount of shampoo and conditioner. It's like I have a specific formula for what works. I can't automatically just dispel the stuff like some do. Every single thought out, preapproved and followed through. Any deviation, accidently dispersing too much shampoo for instance, kind upsets me; it throws me off.
Oh, and eyes are to be tightly shut with all the hair stuff. At least a half dozen times, as I've applied the shampoo or conditioner, a stray hair full of goo has gotten loose and struck me in the eye. Getting shampoo or conditioner in eyes is a very big thing that I consciously work to avoid each shower.
I have to double and triple check that I get all the hair goop rinsed out, especially from behind the ears. That's where it seems to hide the easiest.
I make sure I can feel that all the soap has been rinsed off completely as well.
End of shower, I kind of rush out. I don't take the time to dry each and every body part. Rather, it's hard for me to slow down enough to do that appropriately. I'm usually half wet.
I remember that I have always had difficulty drying off. For some reason, up until high school, I just didn't towel off. it didn't make sense in my head for some reason, Or I didn't like the brisk, bristly feel of the towel. Oh, I guess I thought that toweling off would make me colder faster. Cause I remember my friend in high school asking me why I didn't dry off after my shower in gym. I did tell her that I thought it would make me cold. She said it was just the opposite. From thenceforth, I tried her method, toweling off and found that she was indeed correct. I just didn't know any better.
Showering is such a big disruption for me. It's interesting to finally write down some of the reasons I've always found it to be such a bother.