On the 6th of August 2024 I spoke for almost an hour at the Rising Sun Inn in Kensington (South Australia) as part of the annual Raising The Bar Adelaide speakers event.
I am terrified of public speaking and as far as I'm concerned, I'm not a public speaker’s asshole (pardon the French) and probably never will be. I became a member of Speakers Tribe Adelaide and attended meetings over a 12 month period, throwing my hat in (begrudgingly) to speak a number of times, and with each go I lost 3 years off my life from fear.
Needless to say I did not renew my membership.
Event hostess Krystal introduces me to my audience
My chosen title for this talk was "Have You Ever Felt Like You Didn't Have A Voice" and naturally my autobiography Seventy Thousand Camels, A Motivational Survivor’s Memoir served as the titular content. Towards the second half of my talk I introduced OGWADABWAH! A Life Lived on the Spectrum which elicited a lot of interest and compiled the bulk of the Q & A which followed my presentation.
Unfortunately I broke down when twice speaking about my life and, as unprofessional as this seems, it actually elicited a great deal of esteem and empathy from my audience who later met me with hugs, words of gratitude and heartfelt platitudes.
For me public speaking really does nothing personally but it is a necessary tool in order to get an otherwise unknown and their wares out there. I do find however that if I don’t try and stick to a format - as public speaking tutorials try and teach you to do - I can and do get what I need to say out. I definitely ahhh and uhmm and I don’t hold the floor with a commanding posture or non verbal body language, but I can tell a story and especially my story. As my publisher told me after the fact (he too had a speaking gig at this event on the same night but at a different pub), ‘at least you went out there and did it despite your fears. Some people never face their fears. Fear limits growth and you did not allow yourself to be limited.’
I would like to thank Sophie Schultze (Norwood Council) the event co-ordinator for including me this year, my publisher Scott Zarcinas for recommending I sign up to the event, and my hosts on the night Krystal and 'Ticker' for guiding me through a very difficult evening given I was and am experiencing some significant personal issues at the moment. Also a huge thank you to Tibii Disability Services’ George Foumakis and Lisa Burgess who head OGWADABWAH!'s co-author Edan Galbraith's Supported Independent Living services and all of his neverending issues, and, to my husband Adam Brewer for stepping in a few times during the Q & A in order to explain in greater detail items pertaining to disability support and the adult prison system.
Every experience is AN EXPERIENCE.
Om Shanti Om 🕉
When truth is stranger than fiction (or in my case, non-fiction)
If you have read my autobiography published in 2019, Seventy Thousand Camels A Motivational Survivor’s Memoir, then you’ll likely assume my story is about maternal narcissistic abuse and you’d be right about your assumption or shall I say, presumption.
When one puts out a non-fiction account, one is only working with what they knew at the time correct? To alter the narrative of one’s original work means significant editing or, following up on the original with a sequel. I’m not about to re-write my autobiography as a Part Two project nor am I in a financial position to edit or add to the original publication. If God granted me the wish of widespread circulation - maybe then, but insofar as only having sold a few hundred copies you my reader will need to view this blog’s version to understand that Seventy Thousand Camel’s narrative has indeed progressed to something else entirely.
With the few public and radio presentations I’ve given so far I have marketed Seventy Thousand Camels as the sorry story of a child markedly abused by a career mad and neurotic single mother who is most likely afflicted by Narcissistic Personality Disorder. Fast forward to 2024 and the author is beginning to feel her mother like other diagnosed and undiagnosed members of her immediate family, may very well be living on the spectrum and afflicted by Autism Spectrum Disorder. It is a documented fact that ASD may sometimes present as NPD due to the very real difficulty Auties have with understanding and expressing emotions which can be interpreted as a lack of empathy or love towards another.
Then of course there’s the Autism Meltdown which in various Auties can present in unmitigated attacks of rage, self-harm, and direct verbal and/or physical abuse towards another or others. Incidents of potentially dangerous Autistic Meltdown my son Edan unleashes on unsuspecting bystanders can be found in my second book OGWADABWAH! A Life LIved on the Spectrum and is very similar in parts to what I was subjected to living with my mother. My son even self-harmed the way Gloria did, not ever having witnessed his grandmother’s behaviour like I have. Then of course there are the blood curdling screams, horrible profanities, threats, blaming, and ultimately physical (and in my son’s case only, property) violence.
Both Gloria and Edan are afflicted by feelings of self-importance, superiority, and infantile thinking. Their ability to look after themselves or others is limited and often compromised by an arrogant or impulsive attitude. Their view of the world is skewered as is their outrageous sense of justice. Acquired life skills without meaningful support and guidance by professionals or a consistent invested party are just a melee of inadequate choices, personal disasters, and interpersonal disappointments. Many Auties cannot look after a dog let alone parent a child.
I am the daughter of a woman who is Autistic, and the mother of a diagnosed Autie and possibly an undiagnosed one. My children’s father is also very likely Asperger’s Syndrome, and my half-brother Pietro is Intellectually Disabled with a sub diagnosis of Autism.
On the 11th of August 11th 2024 (11 being a master number in Numerology) my brother’s SIL carer took Pietro to Liverpool Hospital in Sydney’s West to see my mother who had been hospitalised a week prior but no-one knew about this my brother’s care providers included. It was I who needed to ring around to find where Gloria had been taken to. With my being estranged from Gloria almost ten years I rely on Pietro’s care providers for updates on how she is travelling, or, on the occasional phone call she pays my husband Adam as I refuse to give Gloria my mobile number for reasons my readers, family, and friends know only too well.
Gloria had been admitted because she was experiencing trouble breathing. Hospital staff later informed me Gloria had pneumonia, an irregular heartbeat and her kidneys were becoming compromised by the large doses of antibiotics needed to dissolve the pneumonia. Pietro’s carer called me from the hospital painting a dire picture of my egg donor;
“I see a little old lady in a hospital bed who is definitely at death’s door. You really should speak to her Adel. I can give her my mobile right now.”
I argued with the carer (as I’d already done previously during) that she sees a little old lady lying in a hospital bed, but I see the sum total of everything my mother put me and others through. Read my book if you want to know more! I yelled at her.
