By Caiseal Mór
Starting to be up in Australia within the Seventies, Caiseal Mor was once labelled 'retarded' and 'an idiot', and his mom and dad have been resulted in think that actual punishment might treatment his autism. during this brave and fascinating autobiography, Mor vividly captures his early reviews of dissociation from his precise lifestyles - a typical response via kids being affected by repeated abuse - and some of the personas in which he lived via in his teenagers and early maturity - the Mahjee, Charles P. Puddlejumper, Marco Polo and Chameleon Feeble. The rocky course in the direction of learning his actual identification and at last accepting himself takes him on a religious pilgrimage through a number of varied international locations, as soon as approximately getting stuck unwittingly wearing medicinal drugs over the Moroccan border; forming relationships with humans he meets yet quite often misjudges; to the revelation - the awakening - of affection and attractiveness.
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Extra info for A Blessing and a Curse: Autism and Me
He must have been a long way off when he called out again to say farewell. His scent was already dissipating. I crawled under the mosquito net and cried myself to sleep. The next night I waited to see if he’d return. He didn’t. The possums danced around the roots of the tree, chasing their tails and screeching. A tawny frog-mouth owl sat in the high branches calling ‘moh-poke’. I was getting frantic. How could King Koala leave me? Why didn’t he take me with him? I sat at the window with my jaw wide, mouthing koala words under my breath.
I still classify nightmares as belonging to the real world, the Near Country. Dreams and trances belong to the Far Country. The end of the pills also meant I had a lot more energy. After school I’d go over to Uncle’s farm and follow him around hoping to learn something. He had a broad Glasgow accent, which I easily copied. He was like Pop in some ways. They were around the same age and they were strong, able men. I’m sure Uncle didn’t know what to make of me. He probably suspected I was perpetually mocking him.
Whenever she strode into the room I’d say ‘Good morning’ with everyone else. Then I’d mime her name. She never noticed. I knew her as Fat Lady. It was a title not a name. The very moment I first walked into her class she told me I’d been mollycoddled and that I wouldn’t have it so easy in future. I was lazy and bad and she wouldn’t let me get away with it. ’ The first day I stood in the corner with the idiot-hat on so I’d know what it felt like. That ended up being a daily ritual. I didn’t mind.
A Blessing and a Curse: Autism and Me by Caiseal Mór