I have been asked, ‘what is the purpose of my book?’ and ‘why write a book?’ It was never meant to talk bad or denigrate the memory of the dead. My book was a way to make sense out of the senseless. Children should have adults and people in their lives that support them and if they can’t support them find the means to support by any legal means necessary.

But in the protagonist’s life which reflects my life, there was always a reoccurring theme of lack. There was lack of support, anxiety and depression and just plain fear held back people from giving support.

It was a warped existence we were over protected, and dreams squashed so dreams could not be squashed by someone on the outside.  So, you would stop dreaming or bury your dreams as you planned your escape.

Surviving the running of the gauntlet of a childhood, you will always be a child and you never dare to buck the system with questioning of their tactics, outright abuse, and neglect. The elders in your immediate sphere would never understand just because you were once a child and now you are a functioning adult, they can’t come at an adult all crazy.

To be successful professionally always required a duality in your existence, that you navigate carefully so as not to from zero to Ghetto in 60 seconds. A genuine recognition and respect for authority to ensure success is a lifelong process of give and take and self-control, because a life where antisocial tendencies rule is not a happy life, it is not a good and productive life.

I don’t think anyone was able to truly comprehend the enormity of talent that was wasted within a dysfunctional family. Success was a thing to be squashed because it seemed to elude everyone around you. It could reflect and magnify other’s shortcomings and become an accusation of how can you strive and want to be above everyone. You are told by indifferent school administrators and your own family “how dare you think you’re better than me or do you think you’re so much better than me?” You learn you don’t share your successes.

Home becomes a prison to escape without losing your mind but then finding yourself. You plan and plot your departure, yearning to be elsewhere. It drives you further and further to seek educational opportunities abroad away from your beginnings first to a small school in Northern Virginia, medical school in Florida, and then for the training in Texas to make a full circle and then come back to the East Coast getting just close enough to make it to the next funeral. Then finding out if you stop running away, that if you sit still and enjoy the beauty of where you are you can make your home in the most unlikely of places, in a home in Tennessee close to the Tennessee River.

I think if I had just calmed down like Taylor Swift said, and changed my outlook I could have maybe even made a go of it in Oregon. I definitely would not have had distractions; I wouldn’t have had anything to do but create great content.  I would remember all those special moments that I scribbled away in previous journals. The only major regret I have is his last time because if I knew what I know now, I could’ve been creating the stories and content filling up 10 blogs and making a useful contribution to written word honoring the story in my life.

It could’ve been useful to anyone that bothers to read it and follow the convoluted path of the protagonist of this book and could’ve led to the series that lives within me.  I’m only hopeful that people will continue to follow this trail. An exploration of Francis’ mother, Darlene, beginnings will allow Francis Purcell to gain a better understanding of her motives and what things have influenced her mother’s life and again help her figure out her path by telling the story to help others heal and lives their truth and maybe alter their journey.

I also wish I could’ve been taught that completely defining myself by where I came from instead of being pushed into where I needed to go without shade would’ve been the best thing I could’ve done or could’ve been done for me so if anyone reads these words I want them to know your beginnings are just that, it’s a start, it’s up to you where you decide to finish.

Growing up not allowed to live your truth, not allowed to explore what exactly taught you to make wrong assumptions, and that nobody understood you was simply the arrogance of youth I would carry way until I was over middle aged. But as I became an adult and began to understand my family members as an adult I learned and developed a new appreciation of everyone’s perspective and point of view that I really wasn’t in it by myself, I was not alone, and I had backup for the calling. If I just stood still for a moment and just calmed down, I would’ve known this and not have been so lonely. This realization was like Ritalin to the psyche.