A Blessing and a Curse: Autism and Me by Caiseal Mór

By Caiseal Mór

Turning out 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 may healing his autism. during this brave and alluring autobiography, Mor vividly captures his early stories of dissociation from his real lifestyles - a standard response through young children struggling with repeated abuse - and some of the personas during which he lived via in his adolescents and early maturity - the Mahjee, Charles P. Puddlejumper, Marco Polo and Chameleon Feeble. The rocky course in the direction of researching his precise id and at last accepting himself takes him on a religious pilgrimage through a number of varied nations, as soon as approximately getting stuck unwittingly sporting 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 resources for A Blessing and a Curse: Autism and Me

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I’ve never forgiven myself for my part in the green tree-man’s death. After that I was very careful who they caught me speaking to. I never brought friends home. A few days later I climbed the mango tree and found the discarded translucent snakeskin. I took it back to my room and kept it secret from everyone until I was nineteen years old. The only person I ever told about it was Nanna-Father. *** After the incident with the snake I was allowed more time with the telly. Within 12 months, thanks to the miracle of television, my grammar was improving and my vocabulary expanded all the time.

He was the most beautiful creature I’d ever come across. I said hello. Though I hated being touched I loved to touch new things and new people. I was sorely tempted to reach out to him but I got the distinct impression he didn’t want me to. I realised he was a lot like me and I respected that. His scales were coloured a truly breathtaking emerald green; like sparkling jewels they were. And his eyes were a gorgeous amber exactly like traffic lights, with a slit of black down the middle. He darted his tongue about trying to talk to me.

If I noticed someone telling a lie, I’d pipe up and point it out. I copped my first taste of the strap for that. Father didn’t like being contradicted in front of his elder sister. Children should be seen and not heard. Silence is golden. Speak when you’re spoken to. Nevertheless I copied the colourful expressions Australians are famous for whenever I heard them. Bloody bastard was my first and it’s still my personal favourite. I love alliteration. Then came bugger and arsehole. Little turd – I heard that a lot.

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