I don’t know if you can hear me, but its me Susie..

Posted on March 3, 2013 by susiesviews

As I drove away from the hospital on the morning of October 24th I looked at the sky and it was beautiful. The sun was starting to make its journey and I remember how happy and blessed I was to be alive and able to see the sunrise.

I went home and dreaded walking into the front door because I knew I was going to have to tell my parents that their son, their first-born son, was in a bad way. But, I did just that in what I can look back on now as a very robotic fashion, like I wasnt really me telling them but someone else.

I then went up to bed and passed out – literally.

I was awakened at 9:30 about 3 1/2 hours after signing away my brother to by a phone call from the Surgeon himself calling to let me know that my brother had made it through the surgery and that he would now be on the 9th floor of the Hospital, the CCU/ICU department. This is where the very sick people go that need constant care.
I went downstairs and told Mom that my brother had made it through the surgery and we both expressed our happiness. I then went back up to sleep.

Later that afternoon Mom and I were getting ready to go and see my brother when my older sister came down the driveway and suggested she drive instead. I was totally ok with that as I really didn’t think I was any shape to drive.

The normally short drive to the hospital seemed to take an eternity.

Once we were inside, we got our passes and were up in the elevator.
We went to the call center to tell them we were there and to buzz us in.

We found the nurses station who pointed us to room 913.

I walked around the corner not really knowing what to expect.

I saw my brother in the bed Intubated, not being able to breathe on his own with all of these things attached to him. He looked yellow still and bloated. He was asleep, or as I would later find out, he was sedated to prevent his body from having seizures from alcohol withdrawal. Those seizures could be deadly and the doctors had to walk a fine line between over medicating and saving him.

This was the only time I allowed myself to cry. I looked at him and it took my breath away. My sister gave me a hug and it was nice. I quickly composed myself not allowing myself to cry for a long time after that.

I had to be strong (if for nothing else) for my brother.

It took me a few minutes before I could bring myself to go into the room itself. I don’t know what I was afraid of. It was after all the same person in that bed that I was talking to the night before..

I walked over to the side of him and I stroked his arm and I leaned over and said “Tommy, I don’t know if you can hear me, but its me Susie”

I don’t know if he could or couldn’t hear me but each time I would go to see him (almost everyday) I would talk to him.

It was like watching a baby in utero watching my brother sleep. He would move and stretch out his arms and open his eyes.. but he wasnt really there yet. He was somewhere in there but nowhere near the surface.

The doctors had told me that his body was poisoned with a huge amount of ammonia that was unable to leave his body due to his kidneys and liver basically failing. His brain was suffocating and the doctors were giving him everything they could without killing him to get the ammonia out of his body.

Then came the day that he extubated himself! Yes, that’s correct he decided that he had had just about enough of that thing down his throat. He was also able at this time to be moved into a chair. It wasnt pretty but it beat the alternative.

It seemed to me that he was getting better and I was even able to have the room nurse put the phone to his ear so he could hear me if I wasnt able to come and see him. The nice nurse would put the phone to his ear and I would talk. He was still unable to talk but sitting in the chair he could nod. She told me he was nodding.

On November 11 he had a set back where he had fluid forming around his lungs and I had to demand they intubate him again. He had to have a quart of fluid removed from behind his lung and it was also around this time that they found he needed surgery again as his initial surgery was leaking.

I gave the orders for the surgery and we waited.

IT WAS THE FIRST TIME DURING THIS WHOLE ORDEAL THAT I THOUGHT.. THAT’S IT. HE’S GOING TO DIE.

My Mother, myself and my boyfriend even had to go to the hospital to discuss with the doctors that if my brother should code.. that there would be no resuscitation. He was in no way out of the woods yet and this second surgery was causing him not to clot and by all accounts it was not looking good.

The surgery by the Sergeons account was a success and as I said to the good Dr. who called me to tell me this “Well Dr., your part of the puzzle was done properly. Now its between God and the patient to do the rest” He laughed and said.. “That’s a good way to put it” I told him “No, its the only way to put it”.

To be continued………………

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If this is a Dream.. I want to wake up now

Posted on February 28, 2013 by susiesviews

***BEFORE I GO ANY FURTHER I WANT TO MAKE SURE THAT ALL WHO READ MY WORDS FULLY UNDERSTAND***
1) WE ALL LOVED MY BROTHER
2) WE ALL TRIED TO HELP HIM
3) HE TURNED AWAY FROM US AND MADE HIMSELF STRANGER TO US

4) I do not know why I started this blog if for any other reason to give myself some sort of outlet for all I went through. I started this before I started going to a grief therapist (whom I have seen once so far, but whom I think will be helpful) and I feel that I have to see it through.

5) A VERY GOOD QUESTION THAT SOMEONE ASKED ME..”SUSIE DO YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN HELP SOMEONE WHO IS AFFILIATED WITH SOMEONE WHO HAS A PROBLEM WITH ALCOHOL WITH THIS BLOG????

The answer is – I do not know.

And now we resume
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the days leading up to October 24th I had been coming home increasingly later because I didn’t want to have to run into my brother sitting in my room watching TV. I was frustrated that he needed help, I was willing to give it and he refused it.

On this particular evening I came home around 12:15 and lo and behold he was sitting in my room on the floor watching TV. I was kinda snippy and I said “come on.. I really need to sleep .. I asked you nicely if you could not be in my room when I come home”. He said “ok and could you help me up”? I was like “you can’t get up on your own”? and he said “no, not really”. So grabbed his hands and I helped him up and he went to his room.

I worked on getting ready to go to bed when for some reason I went to his room and found the door was open. He was sitting in his recliner with a look of discomfort mixed with slight worry on his face. I asked him. How are you?

He said weakly.. “Ahh (high-pitched).. Not so good”

He told me that he ate the meal I had left for him earlier and that he had been having some really bad gas pains and that he also felt chills.

There was something different this time about the whole situation and I asked him the big question

Me: “do you think we should go to the hospital?”

Him: To the ER?

Me: Yes to the ER.

We went back and forth for 15 minutes on whether I should take him or not.

I left his room and went into mine to contemplate the situation.

I was not going to sleep if I knew he was in pain and he was not going to sleep because he WAS in pain.

I went back to his room sat in the opposing chair, looked at him and said ” I think we need to go” He looked at me and said really? and I said yes. He said “alright, let’s go then.. let me get my stuff together.”

It was about 12:30 now and I went and got myself dressed. I told him I would meet him downstairs.

I went into the kitchen and did two things.

I got out the bottle of aspirin and a big glass of water and popped two of those bad boys down because I knew I was in for a rough night and my blood pressure was going to need all the help I could get and then I also wrote out a note for my Mom to read in the morning that said I was taking my brother to the hospital because he was pain and not feeling well.

And with that.. we both left the house together and I drove us to the local hospital like we were going out to do a normal errand.

We arrived at the hospital ER entrance and he got out of the car and proceeded to the check in while I went to go and park. When I got in there my brother told me how happy he was to be here and he was looking forward to seeing a doctor.

We went through all the check in business and had to tell them the truth about his alcohol consumption. It was the first time he EVER said it out loud that he had a drinking problem. It was odd, very odd.

He looked so yellow.

I felt so sick.

They finally called us into the ER room and they took one look at him and they said to go and give samples etc etc.

He finally came back and sat down on the bed. He looked over at me and said “are you there” I said “yup, I am right here” and moved right close next to him so he could see me
and he was happy. We chatted for a few minutes and he asked that I make sure to bring him his cell phone so he could call people tomorrow. I said no problem.

Then they gave him Ativan to relax him. medicine to help him pass water and another drug to help him not convulse.

One drug was working quick (the Ativan) and the water one wasnt. They also asked me to have him drink this stuff so they could do a catscan but by that time he was so out of it from the narcotics they had given him.. it was almost impossible to communicate to him or for that matter get him to drink.

I started freaking out. I kept asking the ER nurse.. Should this be happening??? Can you help me??

Finally an orderly came around and was to take him for a catscan he insensitively commented to the ER nurse .. “hey is this guy you know”.. (making motions that my brother would try to assault him or harm him) to which I TOTALLY FREAKED OUT ON HIM and told him .. listen my brother is very very sick and I would appreciate if you show both him and I some compassion.. Surely you can see that he is totally knocked out and that he can’t hurt you?

He look at me very surprised.. I think he thought he was dealing with someone who didn’t come in with a caring sister.. I put him in his place and then I requested to follow him both to and from the test area. I was not going to leave my brother alone with this creep. I should have reported him to the hospital.. but in the end.. he will get his.

The results came back that my brother had two ruptured Duodenal Ulcers, ascites in his stomach and peritonitis and he needed surgery immediately. His blood pressure was something like 98/56 and dropping. He was in a really really bad state

By this time it was 5:30 and a doctor had arrived. I had to do something I had never done before and that was to sign papers for someone to have surgery.. so as I was reading all the fine print the last line item was and you don’t hold the hospital liable in the event of death… so I quickly told the doctor listen I just need to call my parents. I did and they were up I gave them the scoop and they told me do what you need to..

I signed the papers and with that they feverishly took my brother away.

I drove home from the hospital around 6 o’clock with my brothers shoes, glasses and cell phone and the biggest fear of the unknown ever.

My brother and I would not speak again until 25 days later.

To be continued…

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Dear God, this is NOT what I signed up for!

Posted on February 26, 2013 by susiesviews

Mid September 2012-
Life is going about normally at this point in our journey of the story I have been telling you all. I am going to College, Mom and Dad and all other family members are doing their own thing and my Brother? Well, my brother as far as I knew was ok.

How wrong I was.

I began noticing that my brother had been looking funny. By funny, I mean he was very skinny on his upper body and his legs that I thought were always very nicely muscular were looking more and more emaciated. There was also another problem that we noticed and that was that my brothers belly had started to swell much like that when you suffer from malnutrition. He had a big belly and really skinny arms and legs. His head was starting to look disproportionate. There was definitely something wrong. But I didn’t know what. Mom and Dad started to notice it also and then there came one day in the kitchen where Mom directly asked my brother the question.. “are you eating” to which he quickly responded with a very quick “yes” and he went upstairs.

I followed him upstairs and when he sat down and I really looked at him I was horrified. He was becoming skeletal with a huge belly. I sat down on his couch and I asked him. Are you starving yourself? To which he replied “a little” and that Dr. S (family doctor) had told him that he should lose weight for his blood pressure.

I said “no, its more than a little, listen you are looking really badly malnourished and you need to get help. You look anorexic. You need to start eating again even small meals. A little protein and ruffage.. You have to eat!” I begged him please let me help you. Please, I can do it and we can get you better. He said he would think about it. Four weeks passed and he decided that he wanted my help and that he also had a list of food that he wanted me to go to the shops and get him. I agreed and I went. I told him that I wanted him to start writing a food diary of what he ate so that he was getting enough calories so that his body would start to reverse itself from starvation mode, which, he clearly was in.
From about October 8th until October 18th… life seemed to be getting a little better for my brother. He was eating the meals that I was preparing and it seemed like his stomach was going down.
Then I noticed that he was coming home each day very early and was acting weird, even MORE weird than normal. I noticed he was walking funny and he said his feet were swollen and that freaked me out and I suggested we go and see the doctor and the answer to that was a NO. I also noticed his legs were leaking and by all accounts my brother was looking yellow.

I went to Google and came back with one big fat diagnosis. Cirrhosis of the Liver and he was at a very bad stage…..

I had no choice.. I went to his room and I said “I know what is wrong with you. You have Cirrhosis and you need help in a big way” We have to go to the doctor.

He listened to me and looked down at the floor or his keyboard and took what I said with a grain of salt and then shooed me away.

5 days later… he would have no choice.

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99 Bottles of Imported French Brandy on the Shelf

Posted on February 19, 2013 by susiesviews

Ok, well so it wasn’t 99 bottles but it was damn near close. The year is 2012 and the month is January. I had been noticing that my brother was becoming more and more sloppy looking, extremely distant from us and at some points very belligerent. So, I decided that I was going to be a snoopy-snoop and look in his closet. When I did I gasped at the all of the drained French Imported Brandy bottles that he had collected. They were lined all along the top of his closet shelf and the floor and some just strewn about. When I stepped back and really looked at his room I realized how much of a lack of care had come over him .

I decided that I was going to start saying you have to quit drinking to him directly versus indirectly (we all know what I mean here people!) so I did and I was immediately rebuked by him. I knew nothing, I had no authority over him.

He was not nice about it and he threw all my families imperfections back at me and told me NO, you don’t understand.. blah blah..

I pleaded with him to help me to understand. He would not and turned back to watching his 30-year-old TV shows of I Dream of Jeannie, MASH and Archie Bunker just to name a few.

I also asked my good friend Rich to help me. He had become my brothers friend also and he tried a little to talk to my brother but my brother liked him because he could talk to him and not be judged about anything. Hence, that was not going to be a venue that would help him stop.

One evening in mid-January I had come in late and I came across my brother coming out of the bathroom. I had noticed that he had left an envelope to be mailed to a guy who worked at the pizza shop by the ice skating rink (the place he would go to hangout, buy nip bottles for the workers and on the sly drink his own alcohol) and I questioned him – Why are you mailing something to Derek when you see him everyday?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!BIG MISTAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

He rushed towards me in my room startling me. He grabbed my glasses off my face, threw them to the floor, took my head in his hands squeezing it while saying “you and Mom are driving me fucking crazy”. I was scared it was 12:30AM he was yelling at me. I was afraid of him and I wanted him out of my room. I wanted to lock the door. I started to say I know, I know, I am sorry it wont happen again.. I put my hands out in a pleading manner and he grabbed them and bent them back wards so that I would have to go down to my knees. I begged him saying I was sorry. He let me go and then he unsteadily picked up my glasses… and turned away from me towards my bedroom door.

I HONESTLY THOUGHT HERE THAT HE WAS GOING TO SNAP MY GLASSES IN TWO

but he did not and he turned around and gave them to me and left.

Whoever that was just then it was not my brother.

My Brother wasnt that person. Where was he? What happened to him?

I was white with anger and shaking in both fear and rage but I just didn’t get what had happened. I went to go and ask him if he was ok and he was sitting in his chair doing that rocking thing and he was holding this little white knife that my Father had gotten from HIS Father and given to my brother. He was opening and closing the knife and he looked at me with this look I never want to see again but one that I will never forget.

I said ok.. I am leaving .. and I went back to my room and for the first time in forever I locked my bedroom door to go to sleep.

As you could expect, I did not get too much sleep. I was too ramped up from the violent reaction that I had experienced and wanted to talk to someone about it but I was both ashamed of my brother’s actions and worried that maybe I was driving him crazy and that I was a nag and that I deserved what had just happened.

That night I did two things

1) I Prayed to God that he would intervene with my brother’s drinking problem if I could not help him. I prayed every prayer I could and even made up one. and then..

2) I lamented the loss of my Brother that night as I felt as almost he was dead to me in acting the way he did. No, perhaps that is the wrong way of stating what I felt. At that moment after praying to God to help him… I lost all remaining respect for my brother. That is exactly what happened.

So you know I did tell my Mom and other Brother exactly what happened … we did not have any good answers to solving the problem. it was clear that my brother was not going to listen to the collective US… He knew better and was better than all of us.

We continued living in the same house and we did not speak a peep to each other. He never apologized and we would not speak civilly to each other until late April. But we didn’t speak like we had years before.. We were in all sense of the words. Polite strangers.

He did express remorse to my friend Rich over it but he still had a delusional thought pattern about me and my Mom on how we were not good enough to help him – no wait we did not have the AUTHORITY to help him. In fact, many a time I would overhear him on the phone telling people that he had Authority over ME!

I know I mentioned to you that he was mentally ill and this also manifested itself in his over the top views on religion and how he thought he was some sort of prophet with magical powers and he could heal people with his hands and waving over them. Many a time, to get him to go away.. I would say I felt something when he prayed and waved over me.. I suppose I should have said the truth and said NO you moron I feel NOTHING .. but I know that he would have kept waving his hands and getting upset that I didn’t feel anything so it was definitely better to say I had.

I would have to say that from April to the beginning of August I didn’t talk to my brother much. I knew that he would be celebrating his birthday at the end of the month and that he was going to be turning 50. I noticed that he had more and more bottles and that he had also enlisted Rich in the removal and disposal of the evidence of his problem.

I did again attempt to say to my brother you need to get help, I will go with you to the Dr’s or ANYWHERE.. but it fell on deaf ears.

His birthday came, I called him and sang him Happy Birthday (family tradition) and he hung up on me….

I kept praying for an intervention.. .. ..

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He’s not heavy, he’s my Brother Part 2

Posted on February 17, 2013 by susiesviews

One of the things that I noticed about my brother was that he took an unusual amount of personal effort to worry on the fact that my income would not be what HE was once accustomed to it being. As for ME? I didn’t give a rat’s tail. I just didn’t. I told my brother in these exact words.. “When I worry then YOU worry and since I am NOT worrying.. there is no need for YOU to worry”. Did he listen? absolutely not. Oh how I really wished he had.

During the time after Bootcamp & Co. I went to work for a very nice company that imported and sold Cheese as a receptionist. I was pleasantly surprised that I was in a much healthier environment where not only was the stress level like next to ZERO but the head of the company went out of his way to praise my work ethic and all that I did for them. Verbal praise directed to me “directly” was something I had lacked for 10 years. Apparently I did a good job but everyone else but me heard about it.

(At this time I also went back to college and started towards the continuation of my Bachelors degree – which I can tell you that I now have and that I am currently working on another..)

What was my brother doing?? .. he continued at his job, while worrying about my job or more specifically my halved income.

It was around this time that he started to drink with constancy. I don’t think that my change in job was the specific cause of his drinking, but, I whole heartedly feel that it just gave him the further impetus to say “screw it, I hate myself and my life” and go full steam ahead with using drink as a coping mechanism. He was going to have a pity party and nothing that myself, his small niche of friends nor his self-proclaimed religious excellency was going to stop him from escaping from what he called “lonely life”.

So since this blog is honest, my brothers first drink of choice was Vodka and that made him almost unbearable to me. Once he drank he took on a whole different persona.

Drinking made my brother act like a human chameleon. He was one way outside of the home. A different way when home and not drinking (he was actually really helpful to my Mom with numerous things in tremendous ways!) and he was a different person once he secluded himself up in his room with his computer and his drink of the evening.

I didn’t like knowing he was drunk in the next room to me. I would hear him talking loudly and quite crazily to his other delusional friends on the phone. He would also play his computer loud and refuse to lower it when I asked him nicely. I eventually took to wearing noise muting earphones – the type you use when you cut wood or work outside!

I really disliked it when he was home and I was home studying for college. I would go the extra mile to get my work done ahead of time just to be out. But on the not so rare occasion when I had to be home more than one night in a row. I tried my best to avoid him. Sometimes this worked and sometimes it did not.

This is where drinking and mental illness specifically psychotypal personality disorder come together in an earth shattering collision course. While my brother was not professionally diagnosed with this disorder, I was able to compare his behavior with that of the definition for the disorder and come up with a positive correlation to explain his behavior.

You may ask how did you do that Susie? Well, my brother wrote diaries and he has a diary for every year from 1999 – 2009 and I have read each and every line of them. This is how I know.

This is the part of my story where we now hyper-jump forward in time.. 5 years.

The year is 2012 and the month is January…

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He’s not heavy, he’s my Brother Part 1

Posted on February 12, 2013 by susiesviews

It is said that talking things through with people is the best medicine when you have gone through a stressful time.  I however have decided that I shall write about my stressful time in hopes that I may help other people who, like me, have experienced similar life events.

On October 24th my life was about to be changed forever and while I was watching the events unfold before me, I didn’t really see the movie through on the film roll to see what the feature was.  So bear with me now, as I take you on a somewhat of a Journey.   It’s not a magical journey in a foreign land with battles and heroines or magical creatures.  It is a journey of one sister’s involvement with her brother who was not only an Alcoholic (There I SAID IT) but one that suffered from mental illness – specifically Schizotypal Personality Disorder.

I am the youngest of 4 children and as life’s course went,  I lived at home with my oldest brother and my parents.  Growing up my brother and I always had a somewhat connected but pleasantly disconnected (makes sense to me anyhow) relationship.  When we needed each other.. we were there for each other.  When we did NOT need each other.. we still knew that we were right next door to each other.  It was plain and simple.  We were 11 years apart in age but it never seemed to matter as we still managed to connect with each other.  That’s what siblings do.

Over the years he watched me graduate from Community college and go to work for a local business where I made an insane amount of money for my age.  I worked at this job right out of college and it damn near sucked the soul out of me.  I was an administrative assistant and much like a Radar O’reilly (for those who know MASH) for my boss.  I gave 300%.  I worked there for 10 years and while I worked there my brother continued to work at his job that he had right out of high school.  I suppose, that he never had the drive or desire to go to college, nor, did he have the will to ask someone what he should try to do.  I cannot answer for him. All I know is that when I felt that I had to leave my job at Bootcamp & Co. it was the HARDEST thing that I had to do.  It took every ounce of effort to pull off the suckers that I had allowed to latch on to me. But, I did.  I typed up my resignation letter and one day, went up to my boss and gave him the letter.  He was not a bad man.  In fact, all of my skills that I learned about getting things done quickly and making things happen no matter what.. I credit him for giving me the ability to learn that.  However, there were other elements and because of those, Susie had to leave.   The letter had been typed, the letter had been given, the letter was in his hand.

Two weeks later, it was time to leave Bootcamp & Co. after 10- years but I did it! I said my goodbyes, put my hand on the door and walked into LIFE!

The weeks that followed were very eye-opening to me.  I found that while I was free and happy my brother was having a very difficult time with my departure.  You see, it turns out that he hated his job and it made him HAPPY that I worked at I job that I didn’t like either and it made him UPSET that I left my job and that he was still in his.  My brother and I would have many conversations on how he thought leaving Bootcamp & Co. was the WORST mistake I would every make.  He would tell others about my mistake.  I would plead with him to take a chance and leave his job.  You can do it, my brother! I did! Look! See how free and happy I am.

But he did not leave.

He could not leave

For some sick reason, he was afraid.

My dear reader, I have so much more to tell you of my story. Not only is this my therapy, but, I hope that once my story is told that I can help others who may have the same problems in life and we can share our stories.

Being afraid to embrace that which we have endured only does ourselves a disservice.   It is only when we embrace ALL that we have endured whether it be  good or bad that we are made to be strong as we should be.

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If I had a crystal ball, I would be soo much easier

Posted on August 23, 2012 by susiesviews

Hello Internet world of online bloggers! 

With the impending start of college classes on Monday I am once again at the place where I am dreading if I am taking the right course, the wrong course or even if I should not have dropped the one course I was going to take as a venture into Graduate School.

It is just one of those crazy feelings for a type A personality as myself where I dont have all the answers and I dread making the wrong decision.

I seriously wish I had a crystal ball, life would be so much easier if I could ask it a question, get the right answer and do the right thing.

Well, as I sit here with a hug lump of intrepidation in my chest I think… I hope I have chosen the right things.  I suppose that’s the best I could hope for… Well, that and a Crystal Ball!

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“A Moment of Kindness is Worth 12 in the Bag”

Posted on July 29, 2012 by susiesviews

How often do we see other people treat those who work at Dunkin Donuts or McDonald’s or any other Fast food establishment in a rough or just plain nasty manner?  Probably too often for our liking.  I was privy to such an event this past Saturday at a D&D up in Stratford.  The counter woman was a young Muslim girl who in addition to her work outfit wore her Hijab and she was being poorly treated by those before me.  I took note of this and when it was MY turn, I was polite, said Hello asked her how she was and chatted about the weather all before placing my order. I was being myself. I was being warm and open and naturally caring. I was Being Human . I was exhibiting a trait that I believe many of today’s people have seem to have lost.

So, after the young girl got my order of 4 donut holes and two small coffee’s ready for me, I found a dollar in my purse and when she went to give me back my 88 cents of change I told her .. Wait.. here is a dollar for your tip jar and you take that money in your hand and add it to it.   She did, smiled and I went off on my merry way.

I then got into the car where my companion was waiting for me.  He felt the bag and asked “what did you get”  and I replied 4 donut holes to which he said…”well, she gave you 12″

This my friends, is why “A moment of Kindness is Worth 12 in the Bag”

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Who Really is where they want to be?

Posted on July 25, 2012 by susiesviews

So today my thought of the day is who really is where they want to be.  We all have constrictions that keep up at certain places in our lives.  These constrictions can be ANYTHING from being available to help someone in our family who needs it to being affraid to make a change in our life simply out of the fear OF change.  Its really very Jane Austen like I think.  We all dream of ourselves being so much more than we are but yet we have duties and responsiblilites that we simply must take care of.

I hope that this is the first of many posts that I plan to write, I am somewhat of an amature Sociologist who simply views people and situations differently I think than many others around me do.  I like to help people with their problems and I think that having this writing space will actually help me also.

Have a nice day!

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