Being Hopefully Brave

“Then sail, my fine lady, on the billowing wave -
The water below is as dark as the grave,
And maybe you'll sink in your little blue boat -
It's hope, and hope only, that keeps us afloat” 


Bravery is being the only one who knows you're afraid.


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***Here again are some posts from Facebook regarding my weight loss journey (Week 2, July 29, 2015)***

Two weeks since surgery and its Weigh In Wednesday! Down another pound for a grand total of 18 since my procedure. What's even more fun is that I lost 10 pounds BEFORE surgery so I'm down 28 pounds since school got out for the summer! Still learning how to deal with this new little stomach of mine but am getting there. It's just a little surreal....and challenging!...but it sure is nice to see my cheekbones again...lol. Off to the gym to walk on the treadmill. Happy Hump Day everyone!


***And later that same day. This one was tough.***

Okay, folks....while I am not really ready to post pics of anything besides my head...I am posting pics as requested and trying to be brave as I record my journey. I decided to share the numbers as well even though they are a little disconcerting. Here I am!

July 29, 2015  270 lbs



May 28,2015  301 lbs.

Being Beautiful

I am beautiful, no matter what they say-

Words can't bring me down.
I am beautiful...in every single way
Yes, words can't bring me down....

Oh, no...
So, don't you bring me down today.
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While there are many other things I will share at some point, I am going to fast forward to the present and my decision to have weight loss surgery.  With that in mind, I am going to copy some posts I shared on Facebook to set the stage somewhat. There will be more posted and I will do my best to fill in some of the gaps..but for now...I think these say it best. I posted this on my Facebook page on July 22, 2015, one week after surgery.

I have struggled with my weight since I was 8 years old. That's 42 years of fighting. While some times have been better than others, there's never been a time it was easy. THE SCALE has been my nemesis...something to be feared and hated. (This may sound crazy to a lot of you but many of you will know what I mean). It has influenced and colored every thought, feeling and decision I've made about myself for over 40 years. My decision to have weight loss ...surgery was many years in the making and not one I came to easily. In the end I felt as though it was the right thing to do and I have gone through the entire preop process believing that and working to stay upbeat and positive.

Still, since surgery, there has been a nasty little voice in the back of my head whispering "This isn't going to work either and then what will you do?" Unfortunately, he's been saying things like that to me for a very long time and despite my best efforts I've just never been able to shake him loose. He's always been there every time I've failed and been quick to mock me when I fall...so it was no surprise to hear him working hard to undermine this step I've taken.

Today I had my 1 week post op follow up appointment. With great trepidation I once again faced my nemesis THE SCALE. As I stood there waiting to hear the results, that voice nearly deafened me and my heart was racing like crazy as I braced myself to deal with what I was about to hear and deal with the tears that were sure to follow.

I did burst into tears when the nurse gave me the numbers -- which I have done many times in my life after being weighed. However...this time that nasty voice had nothing to say --- absolutely NOTHING to say at all. And honestly...I don't think he ever will again.

Because not only is this chick healing well and recovering nicely...

She's also down 17 pounds.

Get ready world.

Here I come.

Being Aunt Pam

 --You know you're the best AUNT in the whole universe when your niece walks into the room and her face lights up when she sees you.

-- "I'll buy you tall, tall trees and all the waters in the seas,

    I'm a fool, fool, fool for you!"

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     Taylor Lauren Barker was born on January 9, 1992 in Delray Beach, Florida. I was living my (primarily) aimless existence in Austin, Texas and becoming more and more unhappy with myself and the choices I was making about my life. I just couldn't seem to settle on doing ANYTHING that had purpose or would contribute to a successful future for me as an adult. Despite being 28 years old, I really had no more direction than I did at 18. I was - quite simply -- lost. 
     The night before Taylor's birth (which was scheduled) my younger brother Jeremy called and we talked about his becoming a father. He shared his hopes and his fears about being a good dad and how he didn't want to let his little girl down as our father had let us down throughout the years. As we talked I reassured him -- I knew that he would be a wonderful father, just as Dulce, his wife, would be a wonderful mother. I laughingly told him (as only a big sister can!) that he would make mistakes and screw things up, but that as long as he learned from the mistakes he made along the way and didn't continue to make them...well, I thought that in the end he'd be okay.
     In the months that followed Taylor's birth I received pictures in the mail of this darling, chubby little charmer with big brown eyes and enough hair for seven babies. She was a perfect mix of her mama and daddy, and I loved seeing her happy little face in the photos that were shared. I hated that I was so far away, but I was so entrenched in the idea that I belonged in Texas that it never occurred to me that I could BE anywhere else.
    One summer morning that changed.
     I woke up one Saturday morning after yet another night of partying and had, what I truly believe, was a divine revelation. I sat up in bed, feeling rough around the edges from the drinking the night before and was suddenly overcome with a great feeling of despair.  The sun was shining in the windows of my room, but it might as well as been the darkest, gloomiest night for all the pain I felt. And then it just simply came to me. If I wanted to make something of my life then I was going to have to leave Austin. I wasn't sure where I was going or what I was doing -- but I knew I had to leave. 
     With that in mind, I called my mother in Florida and made arrangements to come and see her in September. I wanted to visit my family and see if Florida was where I needed to be. Unfortunately, my dear grandfather -- my Pop Pop -- finally lost his long struggle with cancer and slipped away in August. Grandma assured me that coming to visit in September would be okay...so a month later I boarded a plane in Houston and headed to Orlando.
     Little did I know how my life was going to change.
     It was wonderful to see my family -- to share some time mourning the passing of my Pop Pop and get caught up on how everyone was doing. The plan was for us to spend some time together and then a few days later we would head down to South Florida so I could see my brother, sister-in-law and meet my 9 month old niece. So that's what we did.
    I lost my heart the first time I laid eyes on her.  I loved every minute I spent with her. She responded well to me and it was so fun to play with her, hold her close and share giggles and snuggles. In just the short span of a weekend, I fell head over heels in love and determined that there was no way that I was going to live 1700 miles away from this little girl. I didn't realize at the time how much I needed ALL of my family -- I was just bound and determined that I was going to be a part of that little girl's life. 
    And so I have been. (Even after her rotten parents moved them all to New York when she was seven. Luckily it's worked out okay.)
     I returned to Texas and by December I was ready to leave. On December 20, 1992 I landed in Orlando again, ready to begin my adult life.
    And so I did.
    My beautiful Taylor is 23 years old now. She has been joined by my other darling nieces -- Joey, Finley and Charley -- as well as my handsome nephew, Shiloh. Being an aunt has been such a precious gift to me, as it was not in God's plan that I would have children of my own. I look at the amazing young woman Taylor has become and I am blown away by the gifts I have been given. She's the one who urged me to start a blog. "You have a voice, "she told me. How incredible it is to me that she believes in me.
   My other nieces are young, as is my nephew and unfortunately we do not live in the same place. But I am committed to being Aunt Pam and so I plan on doing the best I can to have those relationships with them as well.  Being Aunt Pam has been one of the best things I've ever done in my entire life.
    What a lucky girl am I.

Being Aunt Pam -- September 1992 with Taylor

Taylor Lauren -- Beautiful inside and out.

Shiloh Alexander -- The Lone Nephew!

Aunt Pam and Josephine Elizabeth -- aka Miss Joey

Finely Catherine and Charley Rae -- The Little Bits

  

Being Pammy

Caretaker....one that gives physical or emotional care and support

“Our brothers and sisters are there with us from the dawn of our personal stories to the inevitable dusk.”

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     Unbeknownst to me, in March of 1968 (in addition to being Pamela Rae),  I also became Pammy. This was not the nickname given to me by my parents, but rather the nickname that would come to signify the deep love and relationship  I have with my brothers and sister. Interestingly enough, as I have traveled through life and made dear and steadfast friendships, I have noticed an interesting phenomenon occur.  Inevitably those who I have formed a deep friendship with always end up calling me Pammy. No prompting on my party...no backstory about my siblings shown or shared...it just sort of happens. Perhaps its a coincidence but I like to think it's not.
     I have always taken my role as big sister seriously (sometimes TOO seriously if you ask my brothers!).  At a very young age, my little psyche decided that I needed to try to take care of everyone -- an impossible job for the adults of the piece, let alone one little girl. I'm not sure WHY I adopted that mantra, but it's one that I still struggle to keep in balance today. 
     With Jason's arrival in 1968, I found myself with a new little person to love.  Mama always says that she'd never seen a little helper like me -- and she says that Jason adored me and our bond was cemented early on. In 1970 Jeremy joined the family and our Three Musketeers status was born. In retrospect, I think I spent a lot of time mimicking your average Border Collie -- trying to herd my brothers along the way they needed to go, while giving them a nip and chasing them back into the fold when they wanted to take a detour that might cause them harm. For the most part, that worked fairly well -- but as is often the case with brothers and sister, we didn't always agree and sometimes we literally had to fight it out, fists and all. My mom, being the gentle soul, that she is, probably spent many an hour wondering where these loud, noisy, violent children came from, but when push came to shove -- and there was plenty of pushing and shoving -- she knew just how to handle us.
     My parents divorced when I was 13 and in the melee that followed I became even more protective of my brothers, holding tightly to them in a world that had gone a bit mad. My dad, who we lived with at the time. remarried and in 1981 Leslie was born. By now I was a junior in high school and my 17 year old heart was so excited to have a sister -- even if I spent more time acting like she was my daughter. In 1984 Christopher arrived and our sibling circle was complete, with me being 20 years his senior.
     My brothers and sister and I have faced some incredible challenges over the years and it would have been very easy for us NOT to be close. Jeremy returned to live with  our mom in Florida to attend high school. It was very hard for me to accept being separated from him, although it was the right thing for him to do.  In 1989 at the ages of 24, 21, 19, 8 and 5 we lost our father to heart disease, and our bonds became a little more tenuous.  Still we managed to hang on and today, I am so blessed to have close, loving relationships with all of my siblings and their families that I would not trade for the world.
     So what of Pamela Rae? In the aftermath of my father's passing, I struggled to find my way. I had managed to get my education degree from the University of Texas, but I had done nothing with it, and was lost in an unhealthy party life style that was leading me down dead end road after dead end road. But something was about to happen that would be the catalyst that would lead me to change my entire life. On January 9, 1992 my niece, Taylor Lauren was born. I flew from Texas to Florida in September of that year and in a week's time lost my heart completely.
     I was about to become Aunt Pam.

Three Goofy Musketeers!

Christmas Morning (circa mid 1970's)

Summer Fun At Universal Studios Orlando

The Barkers

Being Pamela Rae

To be...a verb used to describe...

--the identity of a person
--the qualities of a person
--the condition of a person

     As an former English major and avid reader, I love words. I love to delve into their meanings...implications...connotations. I can get lost in the pictures painted by an author's skill with words and my own active imagination. I love the feelings I get and the emotions that are stirred when I read something by a talented wordsmith. I love to try to figure out what a writer is trying to convey through the words they choose and how they craft them together to tell a story. I just love the power and majesty of words.

     So when my niece Taylor suggested "Being Pamela Rae" as a temporary blog title I have to say...it really gave me something to think about. I liked it a lot...because I'm trying to discover just who Pamela Rae really is. In a way I hate to say that because it sounds so cliché and mid-life-crisislike but honestly -- most things that become clichés do so because they contain an element of truth. Therefore (for the time being) I'd like to leave the title of this blog "Being Pamela Rae". If at some point I figure out who she really is we'll adjust.

     I have long thought about doing a blog because at this stage of the game (I turned 50 this year) I thought I might have some wisdom to share. I also am about to embark on a life changing journey and want to share my story with others who might need to find someone to relate to as they make their own choices and decisions. My hope is to be able to make this thing funny and interesting enough that other people might want to actually read it besides those friends and family members that might feel obligated. I guess we'll have to see!  A special thanks to my incredible niece Taylor Lauren for giving me the tools and the help to get this started. I love her so and appreciate her more than she'll ever know.

     So with that said..and as is a good idea with most stories...I will quote Julie Andrews in "The Sound of Music" and simply say -- let's start at the very beginning.

     My story began on a bitterly cold North Dakota winter day in January of 1965 after 28 hours of labor and a big fight over a pot pie. My young parents (ages 22 and 23) were stationed in the wilds of North Dakota courtesy of the United States Air Force when they welcomed me to their little world. My parents were never perfect people but I always knew I was loved. My mother always likes to talk about how smart and inquisitive I was as a little girl and she was my first, best teacher. My home was loving, secure and safe. (How sad that we have to leave the cocoon and safety of a loving home to take on the big bad world!)

      I never lacked for love, care or attention and I basked in that spotlight. My dad's single soldier buddies often ended up at our home on holidays and for special events -- my mom was and still is a FABULOUS cook -- and I was the belle of the ball as their surrogate baby sister or daughter. (In many ways, I think it programmed me with a sometimes unhealthy need for attention but that's a serious subject for another day). At any rate, during those first years being Pamela Rae was a pretty awesome thing.

   I enjoyed my status as an only child until March of 1969 when my brother Jason arrived. You would think that I would have felt jealous, or angry, or slighted at having to share my parents' love and attention with my new baby brother but that was the furthest thing from the truth. As a matter of fact, my mom often shares that on the day they brought Jason home and picked me up from the sitter, her feelings were hurt because I was not the least bit interested in seeing her....I just made a beeline for that new baby. Even at the age of three I felt a fierce connection and love for this new tiny member of my little family and all I knew was that -- just my like my parents-- he was MINE.

    And thus Pamela Rae -- the caretaker -- was born.