Suicide is Complicated

These Muddy Waters

I was having a conversation a few nights ago with someone who had a friend who committed suicide last year. He asked me “What triggers it? What were the actual thoughts?” I had previously stated that the feelings of hopelessness, worthlessness, helplessness and an unending pain went on for so long that it felt unbearable. It seemed unending. I was speaking from my own experience. My own feelings.

What I wasn’t able to answer, was what specifically that person’s own circumstances were. People have their own unique set of situations that lead us into the abyss and down into the darkness we can’t seem to find our way out of. At different times I have felt suicidal, there have been slightly different sets of trials and tribulations. For me, most of them revolve  around personal relationships and abandonment issues. Again

Postpartum Psychosis, suicide, natachia barlow ramsey, depression, maternal mental health

that arises in different ways as well. 

Through the years I have learned to identify it and recognize the ways in which I start to become affected. I have spoken of this before. 
I have suffered from depression with suicidal ideation since I was 11 years old. Maybe younger, but that’s as far back as I can remember having thoughts of taking my own life. 
So there are times in my life that I actively get up and say to myself, I am going to live today. That may not make sense to many of you. But, there are some of you that will make perfect sense to.
Even before I became ill with Postpartum Psychosis, I had a family history of suicide and depression. 
I would like to believe I am a good example of what not to do after your mother commits suicide and a year later her father kills himself. Please get the family into therapy. Don’t think everything will just be okay. It will rear it’s head eventually. You will have dysfunction a day, or a decade later. 
Drafted January 18th, 2016
This is my life. All I can do is keep breathing and there are days when that is all I do. Suicide became my friend early in life. It muddied the waters for me, especially after my mother hung herself. That was my first up close and personal experience with it. Since that time I have lost both family and friends to suicide. I have my own scars, internal and external.

I sat with someone today for lunch who had expressed needing a friend to talk to. I knew he had gone through a divorce and had a rough time of it and was still a little angry over the breaking down of his family. I have a tough time not reaching out when others appear vulnerable, because I understand what that is like.
I wish we as a community did more to build each other up, even if all it is was meeting someone for lunch. People don’t want to be forgotten. They want to know they are important. Remembered. No one should ever feel so empty, so alone, so forgotten, hopeless that things will never change for them, that they want to die.

Please reach out for help if you or someone in your family is thinking about suicide. If you know someone who has committed suicide and want to talk call the lifeline

natachia barlow ramsey, postpartum psychosis, suicide, maya angelou, depression, life, poemI wish I could have answered those questions for him. But there’s always muddy water when someone takes their own life. There was never one specific thing that triggered it for me. There may have been the straw that broke the camel’s back. But it was usually a culmination of things over a period of time. Some questions that will forever remain unanswered. It’s something you have to make peace with.
Suicide is a tricky bitch. I may be smiling but in the back of my mind I am having those thoughts. They whisper to you, they comfort you. They were just hiding their pain.

Every person has a breaking point. My heart is aching right now as I think about the people I have lost and that I wish I could go back because I know better now. There are some it was so obvious but I was just too young, too inexperienced, too naive. I couldn’t have saved them all, but I could have made a difference to some. Maybe unmuddy the waters a bit. Because life’s complicated enough.

Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~


Postpartum Psychosis – POST Life



A tormented mother has a difficult time coping with life after the tragic death of her 3 month old daughter.


This is a movie about life after Postpartum Psychosis. Something I write fairly regularly about. Nikki Love has started a GoFundMe campaign to help raise awareness about Postpartum Psychosis. Let’s help her reach that goal, so we can help all mothers. All Moms Matter. 


So we have officially launched our campaign to raise funds and raise awareness. It’s been a looong journey for me…

Setbacks, Convictions & Courage

11/24/2015 Update

I can’t even begin to tell you the emotional roller coaster ride over the past few days. But I will try. This is going to be a long post, but I have to share this story about setbacks, conviction and courage. You’ll be blessed by the end, I promise! 🙂 ….



Here’s a link to the Go Fund Me site as well to support this very important project.

Every Dollar Counts – Let’s Make this Happen!

Director / Producer: Salli Richardson – Whitfield


Writer / Producer: Nikki Love


Executive Producer: Nina Yang Bongiovi


Executive Producers: Blessed Ent., Jerwana Hill, Calvin Roberts


Consulting Producers: Jane Honikman, George Parnham


Cinematographer: Keith Smith


Original Score: Kevin Flournoy


Editor: JJ Geiger


VFX: Zafer Mustafa & Eddie Williams
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Suicidal Ideation

Suicide Ideation

natachia barlow ramsey, postpartum psychosis, suicide, maternal mental health, post life, depression
Suicidal thoughts they come and they go. They are rapid, they are slow.
Up and down, the feelings float by. Creating hunger, telling lies.
I try to climb, I try to be free. I feel the weight, it’s crushing me.
Creating the hollows beneath my eyes. I feel my hopes begin to die.
Inside my brain I try to reason, I try to say, you can do this another day.
Darkness gathers along my mind. It’s creeping in, it’s not so kind.
Everything is bitter now. Sleep I must, sleep somehow.
I will myself to not wake up. The ache inside is just too much.
Death will be a sure release. All the pain, would just cease. 
Every teardrop would just dry. No more weight, no more cries.
At last I’ll breathe my very last breath. It whispers to me, it’s for the best.
Tonight may be the night I see, all those who’ve left long before me.
I tell myself it’s the only way. I cannot live another day.
Once it’s done, I just go numb. It’s over even before it begun.
Nights are long, the days are short. Suicide; the last resort.


And Sometimes You Just Have to Keep Breathing-



Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Lumpy Potato Paste & Friendship

My Best Friend


We met freshman year of highschool. Your name was Adam. We were kindred spirits and I can’t remember a time when we weren’t fighting or when we weren’t best friends.

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Adam and I 2007

We eventually had to be separated in class because we would talk and laugh the entire time. We would try to make it through, but inevitably we would draw photos on paper from across the room (sort of the retro version of texting) and get kicked out.

Right from the beginning, you would get mad at me for not eating pepperoni when you wanted to and I would get mad at you for not doing something I wanted.
When I moved to Virginia when I was 15 and came back to Maine at Christmas, you were the only friend I came to visit. You wouldn’t get me tissues out of the bathroom and I had been crying, so I had this huge snotball I had to cover with my hands. I was so mad at you.
When your parents took me in the year I turned 16, I used to come into your room at night to watch Johnny Carson. I would enter with a jacket and blanket already on. You had the AC cranked and it was winter. In Maine. But that’s how cold you always liked it.
Months could go by and we would have moved or not been talking and would see each other. The conversation would pick right back up as though I had seen you yesterday.
There were times were had serious fights. So serious we didn’t talk or see each other for more than a year. I couldn’t even recall all the times we told each other to Fuck off Asshole. But we told each other I love you even more.
You’re still my friend, and I miss you. I miss knowing that no matter what there is someone that has my back. I miss that kind of loyalty in a person.
I miss having someone around that I know even if we disagree, even if we don’t see eye to eye, it doesn’t mean you aren’t there anymore.
I miss knowing my daughter has someone that would always take her call and when she texts you about her ultra sound, you ask her if she’s having an alien baby. She thought that was so funny. I loved you for that.
I miss that you always knew when it came right down to it; certain things just trumped other things. Arguments could be put on hold. Humor could always be used to get over stuff. Grudges could just be done away with.
I loved that we could openly disagree with each other and our feelings wouldn’t get hurt. Or if they did it was short lived.
postpartum psychosis, natachia barlow, natachia barlow ramsey, maternal mental health, suicide, death, postpartum depression, friendship
Friendship – Getting things ready the night before he was married

I remember the sheets I had gotten for you to sleep on. You said they felt like butter. I say that sometimes now.

How we went looking for wet battered whole fried clams, and drove an entire day looking, until we were both so hungry we stopped at this small roadside place, and you fell in love with the whole fried clams there. We left and never found the place again.
How many times did we go to a party the winter I stayed with you and your parents, you would always say, go directly upstairs and not to visit with your mom because we’d had a couple wine coolers? (ugh remember those) I’d stand there like a deer in headlights.
It was your dad, that not only showed, but taught me that mashed potatoes could be wonderfully creamy, fluffy and not taste like cold paste with hard lumps. I fell in love with mashed potatoes at your house and stopped having to shove cold, lumpy, potato paste into my sweater pockets to flush down the toilet after that winter.
We used to tease your mom and say that eventually we were going to walk in and the entire house would be knitted. There were knitted toilet paper covers, dolls, dollhouses, vacuum cleaner covers, doilies, socks, clothes, miniature furniture, etc…
It’s been almost four years since the day Wendy called and said you didn’t wake up. Sleep Apnea with an enlarged heart.
There’s always a moment where everything freezes. Things tighten, everything feels very slow and very fast all at once. You question, asking what, why?
I am never prepared. The day of your funeral my daughter totaled a car.
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I miss you. I miss the world being made out of people like you. Obnoxious, loud, brazen, loyal, kind, and true.

Are people just not made of that kind of stuff anymore? It’s a rare day I

would ever “unfriend” someone (as though that’s actually possibly) in this digital age.

I have people I have to block for obvious reasons. But it takes a lot and I do mean a lot for me to actually cut someone completely out of my life. We all need time and space. There are times we have to walk away for a bit to get some perspective.
Sometimes we need to grow apart a little, so we can grow together a lot.

I forgive easily. But I am okay with that. I would rather be that person. It takes a lot of energy to hate and hold a grudge.

I miss my friend that I just knew that no matter what at the end of the day, I could count on. It’s hard to find people like that anymore.

You were my friend for 23 years and it just wasn’t long enough.

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~