I'm not suicidal anymore! (Healing from postpartum PTSD)

CONTENT WARNING: I know it's in the title but to be clear, this blog post discusses suicidal ideation. It does not contain graphic references.

I'm not suicidal anymore! Do you know what that means to me?! It means I get to live my life. It means that I do not have to scratch and claw my way towards glimmers of hope. It means I get to enjoy spending time with my husband and 15-month-old wunderkind, Goldie. I am no longer putting most of my energy into keeping my head above the suicidal water. So I can kick the life-giving wheel of being a healer in many dimensions - like teaching sustainable, collective self-care strategies to healers and helpers in organizations, and using my voice as an advocate and activist. 

I’m gaining stability, and responding with calm words of assurance to the fearful voice in my head that warns of the other shoe dropping. Now that I am no longer under the water of postpartum PTSD, I am able to reroute my negative thoughts to elevate my emotional, mental, and behavioral vibrations. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever feel like myself again.

I'll note here that I have done a lot of DBT in my life and am something of a wizard at 'behavioring' myself out of depression. This experience with perinatal mental health  was different; it was hormonal in new ways. My efforts at healing in this period were worth it and eventually helped a lot, but more often than not, it felt as effective as throwing pebbles against a concrete wall.

Starting when I got pregnant in November of 2021, my life turned upside down.  Suicidal thoughts surfaced in a way that I hadn't before, though they’ve come and gone since I was about 7 years old. The thoughts weren't consistent all the way through from pregnancy to this point. I had plenty of good moments, but any amount of suicidal ideation is scary.

A sweet moment with Goldie, 3 months.

I hit a disturbing low point when Goldie was 7 months old. My friends came to help. My family helped enormously - especially my mom and my sister. But it wasn’t enough, and I saw myself slowly sinking like a ship in front of them - I was afraid of ending my life.

So I left Goldie with my husband - her dad - to spend 21 days in an inpatient treatment center. I had to stop breastfeeding suddenly, and was afraid of getting mastitis. Even though breastfeeding was very difficult for me, it felt like theft to be forced into stopping.

I am well-educated on how little regard our culture has for the parents of new babies. We could have healing centers where mothers can stay with their babies, rather than people like me having to choose between staying with their child and staying alive. They exist in Europe, but not here in the US. 

Our dominant cultural values are patriarchal. Imagine if we diverted 10% of the money the NFL makes every year to making sure that mothers and genderqueer/trans parents were deeply supported in the perinatal period. FYI, the NFL made 18.6 billion dollars in revenue in 2022, so 10% of that would look like 18.6 million dollars. I’m not hating on football here so much as pointing out that the money is available, and in our country, we’d rather put it towards sports than to addressing issues like the Black maternal health crisis, and perinatal wellbeing for all pregnant and postpartum people. 

Suicide is a taboo topic. I'd argue that admitting to having suicidal thoughts is even more taboo than the general topic of suicide. I'm a professional; we live in a world where respectability politics are undergirded by white supremacist ideals. The voices are quieter than they were, but they’re present: "Put forward a clean, positive face. Do not admit that you have spent the last few years in the underworld. How dare you try to be a consultant and help other people while admitting that you have been weak enough to nearly end your life? 

While it is wise to be mindful of how we express what's true and to whom, there is only strength in admitting to our darkest thoughts. even if it's on paper to ourselves. Coming out with what feels shameful has a tendency to neutralize the shame. It opens the door to healing - the place where trauma can alchemize into joy.

Recently, I've spoken with a few friends who acknowledged that they deal with or have dealt with the desire not to be here - not to be living. I am intimately familiar with that wish. It's not exactly the same thing as being actively suicidal for me. I've been both, and there is a quiet horror in not wanting to be alive, and knowing that there's no way I'm going to end my life.

I'm writing this because I am not alone in have been a mother living the nightmare of wanting to enjoy her baby, yet wanting even more to disappear. I am far from the only one who has been deep under the water of postpartum dis-ease that even the baby in her arms doesn't feel like her own. James isn’t the only partner who has done his best to support the mother of his child while she sinks below the surface in front of him. So if this is you, or it has been you, or you know someone who might be dealing with this, please let them know that however horrible the experience is, they are not alone. And consider sharing this or other resources with them.

It’s taken over a year of being in varying forms of postpartum crisis for me to start feeling like I was myself. The people in my life carried and dragged me forward so that I didn't disappear. I am so grateful. Our mental health systems harmed me at least as much as they helped, in spite of individual practitioners being kind and caring (and that's saying something, considering that as a white, cis-presenting, able-bodied, masters-degree-holding patient, I move through systems with considerable privilege).

We need a paradigm shift - to learn about the way in which our health and mental health systems cause harm , and move forward through an active process of rematriation and decolonization. We need to center the sacredness and well-being of those who create life in every arena.

And now, for more good news: I'm okay. I'm better than okay. When my friends check in on me and ask how I’m doing after 2 years of supporting me and my family through sticky, terrifying darkness, I say I’m good. And I mean it.

Childhood trauma reared it’s scary-ass head and nearly got me for good, but I’ve been pushing hard towards healing, and my hormones have rebalanced. I feel the world. I feel the impact of the US’s role in funding genocide in Palestine, and as a new mother, an even deeper devastation at the murder of 6,000+ children in 7 weeks.

And yet, I’m here and I’m showing up, and I’m using the hard-won skills I’ve honed over years. These skills are energetic practices and self-care habits that keep me balanced and rhythmic, so I can keep showing up in joy with those I love, and continue to fight the power in the ways that I feel called to. 

Things that helped me get through:

• giving myself permission to not use tools that worked in the past (because they didn't feel effective)
• Somatic Experiencing therapy
• Cannabis
• Walks
• Gardening
• Medication (quetiapine is the ONE psychotropic drug out of maybe 20 I've taken since I was a kid that ACTUALLY helps me).
• Dance (social and solo)
• Somatic breathwork 
• Queer & trans-centered postnatal yoga with Jacoby Ballard 
• Talking with my badass sister and incredible friends
• Journaling
• Sleep. A lot of sleep.
• Metta meditation & meditation sangha with Jacoby
• Stretching & breathing when it did feel safe to be in my body (I often felt like I could not be still/present with myself)
• Being kind with myself when my these interventions didn't work or didn't feel appropriate

If you’d like to join me in grounding yourself and honing your own emotional & energetic “personal protective equipment” skills, I welcome you to join me on Fridays from 12-12:30 EST for Emotional Retreat Cabin.