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Saturday, July 2, 2016

I'm Not Gonna Make it

A Return to Home and Paradise Hell


It's Thursday, June 2nd around 5pm. I've already gotten a bunch of errands done and we are preparing for the return trip home to Maine. My anxiety is high, very high. I'm excited and anxious awaiting the trip. There's the practical side of the 19 hour long drive with an infant that I'm not looking forward to, and then there's not seeing family in just over a year. That's more of what has my mind racing...


I'm hoping to get to see everyone but only being there a few days, that may not be the case. This trip has purpose and I need to get a few things done. While I am there I want to see visit with grandkids, and my brother and sister. Their kids and families. I had a niece and cousin born since I've been away I want to meet and I've been thinking a lot about that.
Natachia barlow ramsey, maternal mental health, baby, pink scooter, depression, postpartum psychosis, myrtle beach, beach days, memorial day, postpartum support

I've thought a lot about my brother and sister. Wanting to spend time with them, quality time. Genuine time. I want to explain how life is different here for me. People wave to me on my pink moped, just because. I enjoy life here in a way I cannot in Maine. That doesn't mean I don't ever want to go back or visit. It just means for now my existence cannot remain there full time. That I wasn't even certain how much of a difference it would make being away until I actually got away. It's phenomenal. I can breathe.
When I'm stopped for a traffic violation here, I'm given the benefit of the doubt and ultimately the fine is dismissed. VS being made to sit on the side of the road in Maine winter, while I wait for two people to drive up so one person can drive my vehicle back from 45 minutes away. Because I am never given the benefit of the doubt in Maine. 

I have a lot of hopes for visiting Maine. I want to repair some relationships that weren't in the best shape when I left. People that mean a lot to me. I want to see some little ones that mean the world to me. That I miss terribly.
There's a little boy coming to visit that is just so happy and smiling all the time that I want to meet my Dad. I feel like I let my dad down a really long time ago and I've struggled with that for seventeen years. He has the opportunity to know the wonderful little boy that's so full of life and makes the best little faces, he gives the best kisses. He's amazing and he calls me Mémé. He scrunches his nose and I adore him. He will bring so much joy just by being himself to so many around him. Just by being. 

All of the above was written June 2nd, 2016

Things did not go the way I wanted. I got to visit with my granddaughter but not my sister or brother. The time was hurried and sad. I had a very difficult time leaving and as I sit typing this, I am doing so with one hand. The other is in a cast and has a metal plate and several screws in it with much of the skin missing from my left elbow down.

The return trip was long. I found a room in a home to rent and quickly got a job at a temp labor agency. The 2,500 miles journey in six days to Maine and back had exhausted me along with the emotional toll of leaving Shey and the baby behind. I cried most of the 19 hours back.
I also started the process to sell plasma twice a week to make more money.

natachia barlow ramsey, suicucde, broken arm, accident, pink moped, cast, depression, maternal mental healthAt the end of my first week back, my second day on the job, June 19th, I was driving my beloved pink moped home when my front tire blew out. I was going about 30-35mph when I hit the pavement. I remember hitting once and thought I had stopped, but the moped kept going and took me with it further down the road. (I had run out of gas earlier on my way
home from work and pushed it several blocks and wondered if that had been a sign.) I remember lying there in the street and I knew my arm was broken. Within a few minutes I could hear an ambulance. The police arrived first to assure me they were on their way.

I remember crying, a lot. I cried some because I was in pain. But I remember crying mostly because I was alone. I knew I was there alone and I was going to have to go through all of it alone. I didn't know anyone in Myrtle Beach, not really. Being alone is hard and sometimes people don't understand just how alone, being alone can be. Especially in situations like this, where you know you are about to face a lot of pain and you just want someone to hold  you and tell you it's going to be alright. 

I had a couple casual friends I had made and one guy I had been seeing that picked me up. I don't think I could ever really explain to him how much that actually meant to me.

A week later, I had a metal plate placed in my left wrist. Extra long the Doctor told me. I don't know what I did, but it didn't just break the radius wrist bone straight across, it broke it across and slightly down.
I have road rash on both sides of my body. My right knee cap was almost to the bone. There's a big hole there. It scraped straight through my right shoe to the big toe nail and it's about to fall off.

I feel defeated. I've been having a lot of suicidal thoughts lately. I'm so lonely. The guy that was so wonderful and sweet, just stopped communicating once again (it's the second time). I have no transportation anymore. I can't work because I can barely even type.
I'm in a lot of pain. I'm not sleeping well. My insurance isn't covering most of my prescriptions or doctor visits.
natachia barlow ramsey, suicide, broken arm, accident, pink moped, cast, depression, maternal mental health
No Skin, Road Rash

I keep trying and trying and thinking things will get better. But then something like my tire blows out and I don't know what to do. 

I get tired. I want to not hurt physically, mentally, emotionally. Sometimes a hug at the end of these long days would make everything better and you can't even find that. 
So I struggle with many thoughts of inadequacy, failure, hopelessness right now. I have tried reaching out to a couple people but they don't seem to understand. 
Sometimes you just can't do it alone. Sometimes you do need someone else, even to lean on for a little while. I wish I had that someone. Because right now I feel like I'm not gonna make it.
I'm exhausted and I don't feel like I have anything left to give.



Natachia Barlow Ramsey; Postpartum Psychosis Survivor and Loser




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
















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