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I don't know how else to say it.  Debbie was my full-blood sister, although she was never told that.  According to my second eldest half-sister, there was a "vote" taken when she was born.  The other children would accept her as their sister.  However, when I came along and the vote was cast, I was not to be accepted.  From the time I can remember, my earliest childhood memories, in fact, I was terrorized by Debbie.  She made no bones about how I was NOT a Brown sister, that I was just  "Jim's daughter."  It was like a bull whip across my back each time this was said.  

Is it any wonder that when I went off to school I said, "My name is Robin,"  not," Hi, I'm Robin, and you are?"  Being myself, Robin, was not a good thing, it was an ugly, vile thing.  

In our home I learned not to use the bathroom until I couldn't hold any longer.  Invariably, Debbie would stand in the bathroom, back me into a corner and beat me.  No reason why, ( oh, wait, I wasn't a Brown) just, beat me til my eyes would flood with water.  If I cried out, she would beat me more, hit me in the middle of the night and more.  I was never allowed to cry out in pain, not allowed to raise a hand to block a blow.  NOT ALLOWED.

My half sister Linda called me on the eleventh of the month to tell me Debbie was not well.  I thought about this all night long.  I prayed, and tossed and turned.  The following morning I texted Linda back.  I told her that I had an extra room in my house, and that Debbie could stay here with me.  I also told her I would not say anything to anyone until Debbie's only daughter had had the chance to meet with doctor's and make decisions based on their information.  

For a week my niece spent time with her mother, talking to her about the move, the transition into her daughter's household.  Debbie was absolutely against it.  The last night in her own apartment she slipped away in her sleep.  Debbie was three years old than I.  

My sister Linda called me to convey the news.  She was absolutely crest fallen.  Me?  Truthfully, I was numb from the toes up.  I can't even put into words the sorrow I feel.  But it is entirely on another level;  not one that the loss of a sibling should carry.  For all these years, Debbie would taunt me with "you're not a Brown."  I never said a word.  I let it go, because I was told it would crush her to know she was not a Brown girl.  

She was my last living relative of my generation.  She is dead.  And I am only surviving, not living.  The world has long been in black and white, no color, for me.  Tomorrow is the funeral.  I am not going.  I never wanted part time family.  I don't want part time family now.  

I want to walk  out in the open air, feel the warmth of the sun on my face and have peace.  The peace that comes with knowing I did nothing to harm another human being who caused me such immense pain.  I am far-removed from concern of what others may think of me.  

I just want to live life, in full color.

Rest in Peace, Debbie Kay.  May the angels carry you to a greater sense of understanding.  You are my sister.  

Well, this post should serve as a huge source of inspiration to others, if nothing else.  After nine years and never having had an endoscopy post roux-n-y, I have found out that the ring of scar tissue that is supposed to form at my stoma did not.  Soooooo, my 151 pound weight loss was NOT due to my "tool," it was matter of my MIND SET.  My surgeon did such fine work, that my scar tissue (at my stoma) that promotes restriction did not form.  I had my mind so convinced that I did it myself.....despite the procedure and the outcome---I did this myself.  I had hunger, I fought through it.  I DID THIS WITHOUT THE ANATOMICAL FUNCTION OF MY STOMA INTACT.  I LOST 151 POUNDS IN A YEAR.  Guess what ?  I am going to do it----Again, with a repair to my stoma, I am going to do it again.  I am stronger than I think, I am much more capable than I think.  Yes I am, and YES I CAN!  

Today I return to Cardiac Doctor for follow up.  Late fall 2012 I had a "cardiac event," as they call it....the stress and demands of my life, my family composition were taking a huge toll.  (I won't mention my weight as a contributing factor, as it is as clear as the nose on my face.)  At any rate, I just don't want to go into see this man.  Not sure why, other than the news may be grim.  At the same time, perhaps grim would be yet another factor for catalyst.  Drinking water like a mad woman and longing to fit into some cuter, stylish clothing.  Ah, this, too, shall come to pass.  More later!  Keep the faith.

Well, 2014 sounds so strange to me.  It will take some getting used to, I suppose.  As the holiday decorations came down yesterday and the housekeeping ensued, I found myself ticking things off on my mental check list of to-do's.  My gosh, there are so many exciting things to accomplish this month!  I haven't much time this morning to invest in this, so I will close for the time being.  Sending a hope and smile to all, have a great week!  Also, anyone with inexpensive suggestions about how to set up a home gym, please share your thoughts with me.  Thanks so very much!

I have never really taken the time to utilize this community before. Many of the personal accounts I have read over the past few days have been awe inspiring.  I am in a rather humble state, right now.  

In August of 2004, I elected to have gastric bypass surgery (RNY)  Actually, there were several major life events that contributed to my decision:  The most compelling was being put into a space where I was the only lifeboat for my youngest son.  His father was murdered, and all of his grandparents had long since passed away.  It was a sobering moment in my life.  This was my epiphany.  

My highest weight was 321 pounds---the morning of my surgery I traveled alone to the hospital and was made ready---all by myself.  I had no other family that lived in the state, except for my youngest son.  I had pretty much isolated myself from the world, because of my morbid obesity.  I had no social contacts.  None.  My extended family was aware of my plans for the procedure, but no one came to be with me.  

The lady ahead of me on the surgery schedule was absolutely terrified.  They literally called in Psych to come and talk her down out of the rafters.  As for me, due to this other patients' indecision, I was bumped two hours for my procedure.  The entire time I listed to Carlos Nakai on my cd player, kept a quiet smile on my face, and practiced my deep breathing.  I was calm, determined and flooded with purpose and resolute reserve.  No one was going to stand in the way of my progress! 

I felt like Cinderella that first year post RNY.  I plummeted from 321 to 170 pounds, with very little effort, it seemed.  I did have a hiccup with thyroid function in January 05...but it all seemed so easy to me.  "Do this, avoid that, practice, practice, practice!"  It worked!  Fast forward several years and unrelated health issues since then, and here I am again.  Ready to take on the same battle, slay the same dragon, once more.  I know my tool works.  I know what to do.  It is time to just do it!

 If we can all duplicate the same intensity, and commitment to the weight loss process, we can all succeed.  Our victories are equal to the effort we put forth.  We can all accomplish great things in simple, little ways.  A wise woman once said to me, "Small steps make a distance."  Each day is a gift.  Each day provides us with challenges and opportunities to grow as individuals; to hone our talents and refine our resolve to live in a healthy manner.  May we each have the desires of our hearts by and through our own deliberate actions and choices this coming year.  Happy New Year to one and all!