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Donna Williams
Born
Australia
Died
April 22, 2017
Website
Genre
Donna Williams isn't a Goodreads Author
(yet),
but they
do have a blog,
so here are some recent posts imported from
their feed.
Memorial speech by Chris Samuel, Polly’s husband
This is the tribute that I, Chris Samuel, read at my wife Polly’s memorial recently.
Read more of this blog post »Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
So ends the poem by Welsh poet Dylan Thomas. That was not Polly’s style. She most definitely did want to go gently, and on the night of Saturday 22nd April she stole away quietly, whilst sleeping.
It was the Thursday nig
More books by Donna Williams…
“It was as though I had even to trick my own mind by chattering in such a casual and blase manner; any other way stopped at the point of motivation. It was as though I were emotionally constipated and the words could not otherwise escape my lips. If it were not for the methods I had devised, my words, like my screams and so many of my sobs, would have remained silent.
People would push me to get to the point. When what I had to say was negative, this was quite simple. Opinions that had nothing to do with my own identity or needs rolled off my tongue like wisecracks from a stand-up comedian.
....Hiding behind the characters of Carol and Willie, I could say what I thought, but the problem was that I could not say what I felt. One solution was to become cold and clinical about topics I might feel something about. Everyone does this to an extent, in order to cover up what they feel, but I had actually to convince myself about things; it made me a shell of a person.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
People would push me to get to the point. When what I had to say was negative, this was quite simple. Opinions that had nothing to do with my own identity or needs rolled off my tongue like wisecracks from a stand-up comedian.
....Hiding behind the characters of Carol and Willie, I could say what I thought, but the problem was that I could not say what I felt. One solution was to become cold and clinical about topics I might feel something about. Everyone does this to an extent, in order to cover up what they feel, but I had actually to convince myself about things; it made me a shell of a person.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
“He sat on the couch, talking to the charming and captivating character who sat there masquerading as his sister. I had switched to "automatic pilot," and watched myself from outside my own body as I responded openly and effortlessly to the brother I had never had any desire to get to know.
It seemed to him that he had found a friend who was almost made to order. Fortunately, his sister had changed. This girl had no longing look for understanding, and spoke casually and amusingly without any of the distrust or cautiousness he had known in his sister. He liked her, and decided to come around more often.
It was as though I had been watching a play, although I was simultaneously in the audience and on the stage. But as my older brother continued to visit, Carol began to falter, finding it increasingly difficult to communicate. Donna had reverted to "talking in poetry" evasively.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
It seemed to him that he had found a friend who was almost made to order. Fortunately, his sister had changed. This girl had no longing look for understanding, and spoke casually and amusingly without any of the distrust or cautiousness he had known in his sister. He liked her, and decided to come around more often.
It was as though I had been watching a play, although I was simultaneously in the audience and on the stage. But as my older brother continued to visit, Carol began to falter, finding it increasingly difficult to communicate. Donna had reverted to "talking in poetry" evasively.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
“Around this time, I was again tested for partial deafness, for although I could speak I often didn't use language in the same way as others and often got no meaning out of what
was said to me. Although words are symbols, it would be
misleading to say that I did not understand symbols. I had a whole system of relating that I considered "my language." It was other people who did not understand the symbolism I used, and there was no way I could or was going to tell them what I meant. I developed a language of my own.
Everything I did, from holding two fingers together to scrunching up my toes, had a meaning, usually to do with reassuring myself that I was in control and no one could reach me, wherever the hell I was. Sometimes it had to do with telling people how I felt, but it was so subtle it was often unnoticed or simply taken to be some new quirk that "mad Donna" had thought up.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
was said to me. Although words are symbols, it would be
misleading to say that I did not understand symbols. I had a whole system of relating that I considered "my language." It was other people who did not understand the symbolism I used, and there was no way I could or was going to tell them what I meant. I developed a language of my own.
Everything I did, from holding two fingers together to scrunching up my toes, had a meaning, usually to do with reassuring myself that I was in control and no one could reach me, wherever the hell I was. Sometimes it had to do with telling people how I felt, but it was so subtle it was often unnoticed or simply taken to be some new quirk that "mad Donna" had thought up.”
― Nobody Nowhere: The Extraordinary Autobiography of an Autistic Girl
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