Growing up with undiagnosed autism, and now raising three ASD children gives her a unique inside look at the world of those living with Autism Spectrum Disorders.
Jeannie lives in South Carolina with her husband and four sons. About her Book! Jeannie grew up with autism, but no one around her knew it.
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Twirling Naked in the Streets will take you on a journey into the mind of a child on the autism spectrum; a child who grows into an adolescent, an adult, and becomes a wife, mother, student, and writer with autism. This is a gripping memoir of a quirky, weird, but gifted child who grows up never quite finding her niche. It took 38 years to discover that all the issues, problems, and weirdness she experienced were because she had Asperger's Syndrome AS , a form of high-functioning autism.
The tale begins at age three and takes us all the way through her diagnosis. Along the way she explains autism in a way that will have fellow "Aspies" crying tears of joy at being understood, and "neuro-typical" people really starting to grasp the challenges that autistic people face every moment of every day. Twirling Naked in the Streets is available on Amazon.
- Twirling Naked in the Streets and No One Noticed : Jeannie Davide-Rivera : ?
- Books by David and Goliath Publishing - arozthropadin.ga!
- Twirling Naked In The Streets And No One Noticed | Asperger's & Autism Forum;
- Twirling Naked in the Streets and No One Noticed : Jeannie Davide-Rivera : .
- Twirling Naked in the Streets and No One Noticed: Growing Up With Undiagnosed Autism;
- Books by David and Goliath Publishing - arozthropadin.ga.
And now for our pleasure, Jeannie is going to share an excerpt from her book. I know you'll enjoy it. Thank you, Jeannie, for being at the Mess. She made the whole class wait for her every day. We struggled over what I would wear, and what I would eat, which was usually nothing. My brother and I stayed in their bedroom to go to sleep while aunts, uncles and friends played loud music, drank, smoked, and played cards. I tried to sleep curled up in a ball under the covers cupping my hands over my ears trying desperately to drown out the noise.
The smell of cigarette smoke and beer made my stomach sick and my eyes tear. In the morning, navigating the sea of sleeping bodies sprawled out across the living room carpet surrounded by empty beer bottles, and half spilled over ashtrays brought on the vomit. The vomit brought on the screaming. There was a mess to begin with! Vomit was hard to get out of mustard-colored shag carpet.
Autobiographies, Memoirs, and ASD Rights
I was never in a rush; that much is true, but I certainly did not intentionally make the whole class late coming out of school every day—not intentionally. Line-up I had down. I was number three; Toni was number one, Laura was number two, then me, and Shayne was number four. I knew how to line-up. Line-up: check. It was the pack your things part, the part that needed to be done before line-up, that was the problem. My desk was a wreck.
The small space inside the metal-framed desk reserved for books was jam packed with my things. Papers were shoved inside, crumbled and torn.
Pencils fell when I pulled on something I thought I needed to pack up, and was followed by an avalanche of debris that scattered across the floor making my head spin. The mess, the chaos, and the lack of things having their own place made me feel sick. My brain ceased to work; I ceased to respond. I just stood there staring at the mess that I had no idea how to begin to clean up. I made several attempts throughout the year to pack-up my things.
All of them were wrong.
Going to school without my homework meant writing, I must do my homework, twenty times on the blackboard. I longed for the end of the day; longed to be out of the clutches of the classroom.
The whole class grumbled while I stood there staring blankly at my desk. They knew we were not leaving until I got my things together. Montouri said. Shayne, number four, rushed over to help. He helped me shove everything into my book bag, and slung it over his shoulder.
Shayne wanted to go home. From that day on Shayne helped me pack, or rather he packed my things for me. Actually he packed everything , and then carried my book bag because it was heavy. Along the way she explains autism in a way that will have fellow "Aspies" crying tears of joy at being understood, and "neuro-typical" people really starting to grasp the challenges that autistic people face every moment of every day.
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