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 http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/

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 – Can you Forgive?

Forgiveness

 
Nikki Love posted an update on the POST Life Movie website on the blog section titled The Mirror. It talked a lot about forgiveness and all the variables. Forgiving the person who became ill. Forgiving the people you asked for help, forgiving yourself. I believe it’s much easier to forgive others than to forgive myself.
This takes me back to remembering even when my mother committed suicide and people would ask me if I were angry with her. I find it difficult to be angry with someone who thought their only option left to deal with their pain was to die.
Put that into context for a moment. I have been there. I have felt so utterly

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hopeless, worthless, unworthy and remained in that place for so long that death seemed like the Only option to make it stop. It didn’t appear like that every day. But it came in waves of darkness. The darkness got darker and lasted longer, with that came those thoughts of suicide.

When I picture the last time I saw my mother alive, I know now she was thinking about ending her life. I couldn’t have seen it at the time. Even being just 14 years old didn’t matter. I have seen it now and I can recognize it, Sometimes. But only sometimes and that’s if the person is using their words to communicate to me in some way how desperate they are feeling.
Above-Drafted December 17th, 2015

I started that before Christmas, in the middle of the Holidays. Halfway between our Thanksgiving and the New Year. I was on a roll and wanted to continue my effort of not only supporting the POST Life Movie, but All Moms who struggle with Postpartum Mood Disorders.

On Christmas Day, we had another loss within the Postpartum community. This was not a woman I knew personally. But I will say her name anyway because she deserves to be honored for her struggle; Sasha Hettich. I will link you to her story on Postpartum Progress and that of her husband, Cody Hettich, who spoke of her in an effort to battle the stigma surrounding Mental Health.

Last August, we lost another woman and her name was Naomi Knoles. She also committed suicide after getting released from prison, having spent 10 years there. She wanted to share her story and make a difference as well. Unfortunately, the struggle became overwhelming and she took her own life.

Both of those women suffered from a Postpartum Mood Disorder. In 2003, Naomi  became ill with Postpartum Psychosis and took the life of her daughter, Anna, after a failed attempt at her own life. She completed that effort last August.
Sasha Hettich was suffering from Postpartum Depression from all known accounts that I have read and it culminated on Christmas morning when she ended her life.

We need to come together as a Postpartum Community. I know I sing this song often. There is a divide within the community between the Depression and the Psychosis community where there should not be. At any time, the depression can turn to psychosis.

You are All Moms that this could happen to. This is not to scare you, it’s to make you aware. Neither or those two moms thought this would happen to them.

In between the death of those two women, there have been countless other women I do not know the names of who have lost their battle. I for one do not want it to be in vain.
If I know of your battle, I will Always say your name. You will be remembered here.

I challenge other Postpartum Mood Disorder Blogs to do the same. Do not let there be a divide. Do not be a part of the problem. You say you want to erase the Stigma. Well Actions Speak Louder Than Words. You cannot claim to want to banish the Stigma surrounding Maternal Mental Health and be part of the problem. You have to be part of the solution.
Be part of the Solution.

 
 
 

 

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

I’ll Eat Your Sins

Sin Eater

Natachia Barlow Ramsey, Postpartum Psychosis, Postpartum Psychosis stories, sin eater, hopeless, Depression, Suicide,
Send me your broken, send me your dreams
Send me your heartache, Send me your screams
I’ll take the hopeless, I’ll take the lost
I’ll take your helpless, I’ll pay the cost
The taunted, the tortured the sad and the blue
The beggars, the paupers, they all can come too
We’ll be an island, of dysfunctional shame
We’ll huddle together, our souls set aflame
Unwanted, unfit and cast far aside
The hidden, the shamed, we all have to hide
I’m here to tell you, I’ll eat your sins
I’m here to say, you can start fresh again
I’ll be your voice, I’ll scream out your thoughts
I’ll share your madness, all tied up in knots
We’ll be an island, of dysfunctional shame
We’ll huddle together, we’ll play their game
Send me your broken and send me your dreams
send me your heartache, send me your screams
I’ll take the hopeless and I’ll take the lost
I’ll take your helpless and I’ll pay the cost
I’m here to tell you, I’ll eat your sins,
I’m here to to say you can start fresh again
I’m here to tell you, I’ll eat your sins
 
 
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

I’m Your Huckleberry

I’ll Be Your Huckleberry

I’m just the right woman for the job! I didn’t necessarily want the job; and it’s not exactly the job I would’ve imagined I would have had when I was a child, but I will do it nonetheless. Why am I the right woman for the job? Well, because no one else wants to do it.

Here’s my observations on what happens in this – POST LIFE (Nikki Love is attempting to tell a version via her movie) I am writing about as it happens to me and feel the real time effects.
Natachia barlow ramsey, postpartum psychosis, postlife movie, depression, suicide, death, nikki love
Let me explain (this is the part where I’m your huckleberry comes into play perfectly) – people ignore you as you stand before them as a real live person. Or at least in cyber time. It makes them uncomfortable. As long as you continue with the act of suicide and make sure you actually die; you will be lovingly remembered and it will be romanticized. Your family and friends will be invited to speak at public events to raise awareness. Your story will be shared whenever one of them posts something about you, and on any kind of anniversary, there will be a remembrance.
You will become a stepping stone. Your back will become a platform for which others stand on to tell their own stories, and promote their own causes.
That’s not to say their causes are bad or not worthy of being promoted. On the contrary, most of them are fundamental in women’s healthcare. I mean ALL Postpartum Mood Disorders are important and need to be discussed.
But and this is such a big, enormous but, we also need to be talking to and having women like myself be the ones actually doing the talking. Share my posts, share my stories, get on board. I don’t ever want to hear “I don’t know what to say” again. Because if that is your response to me when I make myself readily available, then you have absolutely no business ever talking about Postpartum Psychosis and what those worst case outcomes are.
Because it is on the back’s of those worst case outcomes that you get links to your sites. You get readers aghast, but still reading, and coming back for more. Those worst case outcomes are what make the papers, and drive people to provide more funding. It’s sad but true.
This is about all of us. We are all in this together. Oh sure, I get upset because I will be going on 17 years since I became ill and not having a clue what was happening to me. Now going onto four years blogging and I still hear the same thing.
Yes, progress is slow and I have seen it myself. But if we, we the women at the forefront who are doing the pushing. The women who are standing up and demanding to be seen. Shouting out loud, you will hear us. We Need to be together, we need to stand together. We cannot be Un-united. We Have to support each other, in all our endeavors.
This is not about each one of us individually. This is about all the women who are here now, who will come after us, our daughters, our granddaughters, sisters, all women.  
Every time you share a post, you like a link, you comment, and you pass along information even if it does not benefit you in the moment, you are paying it forward. You are helping more women, more families, more moms. 
Isn’t that what you would have wanted someone, anyone to have done for you? I know I would have. That’s what I think about every single day when I get frustrated. When I get so irritated because I am not allowed into some of the inner circles and many of my posts don’t get “shared” by some of the “hipper” Postpartum circles.
I remind myself that, they are the people who are not paying it forward. I will continue to do my part. I will continue on my journey.
I will continue to be your Huckleberry.
Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~

Postpartum Psychosis – POST Life

POST LIFE Movie

 

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. 

A WORD FROM THE PRODUCER:

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!
We are ALL WARRIOR MOMS!
 

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~
 
 

Am I Worthy?

“Am I Worthy”

 Originally written while I was remanded – Nov 25, 2001 (I had just spent my first Thanksgiving alone)

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Life continues elsewhere, but behind these huge stone walls, time seems to stop and sometimes you forget who you really are. 
You’ve looked for the light at the end of the tunnel, but hopes and dreams seem to get further and further away until you believe you can’t see them anymore. 
You want that with every mistake you make it will be your last, and at last you will learn from your mistakes. 
Do you think I’m worthy?  Do I think I’m worthy? 
There have been many times I have forgotten God and all he has given me. For I am too busy enjoying myself. 
I often feel unworthy and believe he will not want my broken body and soul, for I did not turn to him when I was standing tall. 
I wonder of my uncertainty of God.  Is there truth behind my prayers? 
I can say out loud to anyone who would listen; yes, of course God loves me. 
Whenever I stumble, he waits for me to ask for his help again.  For like all parents, they love their children always, and I am one of his children. 
But in my heart, while I lie in bed at night, my fear is that I am undeserving of God’s love and forgiveness. 
I waiver in my faith, and wonder if God is really there. 
I try to recall in my desperate moments, the times I have been filled by his presence and overwhelming feelings of love.  
And I have, for it is not God who forgets me and gets too busy to say hello.  It is I who forgets to give thanks to him. 
Yet he always helps me back to my feet when I fall, caresses my tears and fills me with hope I so desperately need. 
So I pray again the same unforgotten words that I try to believe will be heard. 
“Please forgive me, I am sorry and I want to do right by you.  Help me God, for you are my strength when I have none.” 
So in my weakest moments, when I feel like I have been dropped from a tall building like a rock to the ground, he will wrap his celestial arms around me and embrace my fall, for he knows I will turn to him.


For he is my strength when I have none.  And we are all worthy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I had written this when I was spending my first Thanksgiving in AMHI. I remember I had never been away from family during the Holidays before. When I got up Thanksgiving morning, I cried into my cornflakes. I would no longer be preparing a Turkey.
I’ve been struggling a lot. Away from everyone down here in Myrtle Beach. Thanksgiving is fast approaching and my experience is telling anyone up close and personal about my past is not only not fun, it sends people running.
People always, always think they want to know. They just cannot comprehend. So, you go through the painful, twisting of your soul to tell them and they run away. Because they cannot fathom when you try to explain to them beforehand when you say it’s too difficult to talk about or understand.
So you die just a little bit more inside each time you believe one more person who tells you to trust them. That they will be the one to understand.
I stepped out of dating for years now. My last serious relationship ended in 2011. I wanted to focus on my daughter and all that was happening.
I had only begun dating again since being down in Myrtle Beach. No one knows me here. But, no connections. Nothing worth mentioning until very recently I met someone, I had that feeling you can’t quite put words to. It’s that feeling you wait for. I mean it only took four years right?
But, you know how this ends:
I go ahead and start mentally preparing myself for the big reveal. I had to buy some alcohol (and any of you that know me, know I don’t drink) to start talking. I’m having an anxiety attack the entire time and trying to give this abbreviated version by only saying I was responsible for another life at this point. My guts feel like they’re being ripped out of me.
He’s being very kind. As we are talking, I tell him I could hug him and never let go, and he gives me a warning about not doing that. I am crushed.
We end up on my balcony and he ends up going in first and I stay outside trying to figure out what to do. I then hear his truck start up. I go back inside and he is gone, along with his things. I proceed to send him a series of irrational texts (at this point I am fairly intoxicated) and I got Lasagna in my bed too (I have no idea about that either, found it there this morning. Like I said, I never drink and I drank an entire bottle of wine myself)
This is the most difficult conversation in my world to have with someone. People do not understand what they are asking. This is why I gave up dating. I feel like a fool for believing. I really thought for a moment I had paid penance for everything. I thought someone good, kind and genuine was being sent into my life. Someone who seemed to value the same things I did and was loyal to a fault.
I’m tired. I want to keep believing, I do. It’s just hard.
 
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~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~
 

Upon My Death, Do Not Let Me Die

When I am gone

 

I don’t want my story to stop being shared. When I am gone, be it by accident, disease, tragedy or triumph; I want it to be known. Say it out loud. I give my permission now to share my story. Share all my stories and if you have more stories of me, share them too. 

Upon my death, do not let me die.

I have lived an extraordinary life so far. I was reminded yet again very recently that we don’t always know if we will wake up tomorrow. When we are young and/or naive, we seem to think we are invincible. That will not happen to us or those we love. We can walk away angry. With words left unsaid and that we will always have another day to say those

Myrtle Beach South Carolina, Postpartum Pychosis, Natachia Barlow Ramsey, When I Die, Flood, Thousand Year Flood

things we wanted to say.

I am living and have been living in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I have been here for almost six months and the last two weeks we have seen some amazing flooding take place. I have seen some things I hadn’t seen before. Some, as simple as a cotton field.

Near the end of this summer we lost a woman who wanted to share her own experience of Postpartum Psychosis. Her name is Naomi Knoles; and she wrote We All Have A Story To Tell. Her husband is continuing that journey and wrote a short piece I will share here. I know personally how difficult that road is. I myself, along with many others within the Mental Health community took a hard hit when she died. I think it also provided a wake-up call.

Even one year; 3 years, 5, 10, 20 years after you have been in “recovery” and everyone thinks you have gotten past the worst of it; you can still have bad days and not make it out. The hole you have found yourself in, that dark, black hole that many of us have described. Well, that hole is deep, it’s dark and even when you think you have walked out and beyond it’s reach; it still has the ever so slightest grasp sitting lovingly upon your chest. It caresses your cheek and whispers in your ear. It says familiar things to lure you back and before you can blink away the tears, you are seeing black again.

Court for my grandchildren and things happening with my daughter take a lot out of me. Along with advocating.

Job discrimination is huge. I had a job, that I enjoyed very much and was doing well at. The minute, and I do mean the minute, they found out about my past; that was it. I had to leave. It did not matter that I had been doing this job for approximately a month already. I am not going to say where this was, just that I had taken a position where people that were educated (one was a doctor) were in the employment position and I was the employee.
When people ask me why I don’t just go right out and find a job I just look at them. I have a resume. An excellent resume. I have skills, many skills. I am intelligent and sociable, I do an excellent job. I can even pass a standard background check and be bonded. (I used to sell insurance) But if one person googles my name, I am done for.

These are the kinds of things that 10, 15 and 20+ year out of recovery or at any time in a person’s life can become too much.

Pink Moped, Postpartum Psychosis, Natachia Barlow Ramsey, Maternal Mental Health, Myrtle Beach South Carolina, When I dieI was out driving around on my Pink Moped during this Thousand Year Storm in South Carolina. I was listening to my mp3 player and I wasn’t trying to get hurt but it occurred to me I wasn’t practicing being my safest.
I started thinking about how I made the decision to “Walk the Line” and “Life for Death Sentence“. I started thinking that while I may not commit Suicide more purposefully the way Naomi did; maybe I am hoping fate will just take over.
It’s not suicide if I am out riding my Pink Moped listening to tunes during the worst Flood the Carolinas have ever seen right?
What about if I walk alone at night on the beach? Driving without a Helmet on highways? Meeting people off from Craigslist? Moving in with people I meet off from Craigslist?
I won’t list some things for the sake of the fet community of people I am involved with.

Then it occurred to me that perhaps I just wanted to be scared.
Another friend (Walker Karraa) who is taking an offline break was speaking of a conversation she’d had with Naomi who had said “Walker, I was in prison. Nothing scares me.” I remember thinking when she shared that, that I too had those thoughts and feelings. I still get scared for others. Just not for myself.

I want to sit on the beach every day and smell the salt in the air. I want to forget all the sadness around me. I want to be able to take a ride on my moped to the store and back while listening to music and enjoy the warm breeze.

But, then I read another story about another mom and another family who says; “we didn’t know, we had never heard of Postpartum Psychosis”. All I can think is how can you have not in this day and age. But then I remember they are cutting funding in even some of the most forward thinking states as far as Mental Health Programs go. North Carolina just cut $110 million from it’s regional mental health and another $152 million is set to be cut this Spring unless something is done.

University of North Carolina in Chapel Hill created the first Women’s Mood Disorder Clinic. Now that same state that set a standard is about to cut close to $300 million in Mental Health from its budget in less than a year’s total time.

And that, is why. That is exactly why women and their families are not hearing more about Maternal Mental Health. Because Mental Health is usually one of the first to be slated for cuts.

I also, get emails, or friend requests on any of my numerous social media platforms. Someone wants to strike up a conversation with me about their experience, their child, wife. Sometimes I can’t get to them all right away. But I do the best I can. I realize that by sharing My Story; I have made a difference. That for every person that stumbles upon my blog and reads it. Every person that reads My Story and reaches out or passes it along, I am getting through to people in tenfold.

Why, why am I talking about this now. It actually started after our friend passed away and there was a big discussion about whether or not Naomi’s Story should be shared. When and how it should be shared and by who. None of us within the community felt quite comfortable. It almost felt disrespectable. But, on the other hand I truly believe she would want for Her and her Anna’s story to continue on. Her story hasn’t died. It feels like an injustice to stop talking. Like the disease won.
Postpartum Psychosis can’t win! If we stop talking about ALL the people involved and how it has affected each of them it wins.

So, I will say it again. Postpartum Psychosis cannot win. Keep talking. Keep telling stories. Keep sharing.

I don’t want my story to stop being shared. When I am gone, be it by accident, disease, tragedy or triumph; I want it to be known. Say it out loud. I give my permission now to share my story. Share all my stories and if you have more stories of me, share them too. 

Upon my death, do not let me die.

 

~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~
Originally Drafted 09-14-15

My Psychosis Song

maternal mental health, postpartum psychosis, maternal mental health symbol, natachia barlow ramsey, postpartum depression, suicide

 

My  Psychosis  Song

 
Psychosis seized my mind, grabbed my very soul, shook my
very essence and violently took hold.
Overcome with thoughts that twisted in my head,
left me torn apart, and wishing I were dead.
Searching for the answers while my thinking was deranged,
left us all with scars and everlasting change.
Thrust into a place where everything surreal. I was completely
turned around, yet it all seemed so-oh real.

Pregnant now I wasn’t, but the joy just wasn’t there;
 replaced by emptiness and permanent despair.
Akin to automation, every, single, day. You lose touch 
with your sanity, you slowly slip away.
Reality is yours, it’s right in front of you. What’s black
is black to you, there is nothing they can do.
Truth is how you see it, through your own distorted eyes;
you know the only way, is to finally say goodbye.
Urgency abounds, now that the answers clear, love still
fills your heart, there is nothing left to fear.
Motherhood is sacred, it’s only you that understands. The rest
can go to hell, the rest can all be damned.
Psychosis seized my mind, grabbed my very soul, shook my
very essence and violently took hold.
Still I thought I knew, what black was really black. Slowly
began the process, of finding my way back.
Yearning for the void, to be filled within my soul. Yet knowing
that I’d live and never ‘gain be whole.
Crying every night, for years and years on end, asking for
forgiveness, just looking for a friend.
Harshest on yourself, yet there’s always some close by, to judge
you for your shame, while you close your eyes and cry.
Overcome with thoughts, that had twisted in my head. Had
left me torn apart and wishing I were dead.
Slowly opened eyes again as everything got lighter. The thoughts
were all less foggy, the colors all were brighter.
I started seeing things, the way I used to see. What once looked
like the color black, was now bright white to me.

Searching for the answers, while my thinking was deranged,
left us all with scars and everlasting change.

 

 
Maternal Mental Health Symbol, Postpartum Psychosis, Natachia Barlow Ramsey, Suicide, Depression, Maternal Mental Health, Psychosis



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


*More Sadness today as one of our own lost a hard fought battle RIP NK*
 
 

I Cried for Home

When you cry for home when you’re alone

I had an entire thought process going on when I started this page. I had been reading all of my posts sitting in drafts, some may sit there unpublished forever.  As I was reading through, it started to remind me of all the times after my mother died, that I would cry in secret and beg God to go home. Home back then was for my mother to be alive and be with everything I knew and what was comfortable. Countless times I cried for home when I was alone.

I feel sad for the little girl that I was back then. At fourteen years old, I was left floundering to figure out my mother’s funeral, as I was the oldest. A task I was not ready to handle, yet felt it was my duty. My Grandfather telling me I was the oldest child so it was up to me. I now believe he was just not

Postpartum Psychosis, Natachia Barlow Ramsey, Maternal Mental Health, Suicide

ready to plan and bury his child. He shot himself in the heart the following year; when the fog was so heavy on the Maine coast, that you couldn’t see across the small road separating the two houses as he lay in the doorway to the shed.

I have been asked often if I am angry at my mother. No. I feel sadness that I know how she was feeling. I can understand feeling so hopeless, alone and such utter despair that you want so badly for the pain to stop. You are in physical pain. It takes over your every thought. Make it stop, make it stop.
 
I cannot be angry when I can empathize with how my hurt they were in.
I have put myself on what I have called a Life for Death Punishment. Have I had suicidal thoughts since then? Yes. Last Fall was a particularly bad time. I had an undiagnosed Thyroid condition and had such severe Flashbacks I went to the hospital for 10 days. They were able to reconfigure my medication and the thyroid condition was caught.
Being ill with Postpartum Psychosis was a culmination of undiagnosed mental health issues, being in an unhealthy marriage and never having therapy after my mother and grandfather died. Those were not the only contributors. I developed pneumonia while in the hospital giving birth to my son. I had been depressed during my pregnancy and a dozen other things. It is never just one thing.
Do I cry for home now? No, because I don’t know where home is anymore. The last few years have been terribly difficult, helping my daughter as she herself becomes a mother. We are in the Carolinas again. She just recently gave birth to her third child. It has been a difficult journey that I know is not over.
I am tired. I am searching for home. I go to the beach almost every day. I swim and I recently got a moped to scoot around on. Those small things make me happy. I feel like I could sleep for a year. I want the waves at the beach to wash over me and take away all my sadness. The lonely and emptiness I feel while I look for home.
Good conversation, hugs, cool nights and the ocean breeze.
I no longer cry for home. I cry because I am looking for home. Unconditional love and understanding.
~Be Loud, Be Purposeful, Be Strong, Be Courageous, Be Creative, Be Something~