Author & Artist
Happy Holidays from Samantha Jane Buice, Rush Smith, and Logan Smith Buice (who thinks all of the presents are for him).
P.S.
*This post was meant for Friday (I was experiencing some technical difficulties).
I apologize for the delay,
wishing you all a Happy Holiday!*
–SJB
The holidays are happy times for many people. However; they are also a terrible pain for others. Falling on hard times financially. Sickness. Loss of loved ones. It is one of the seasons that takes the most lives. Here is the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, in case you or someone you love is even thinking about this idea. NAMI (National Alliance on Mental Illness) has more information and aid. There is plenty of help when/if you need it.
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
988
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline – Call 988
If you or someone you know is in crisis—whether they are considering suicide or not—please call the toll-free Lifeline to speak with a trained crisis counselor 24/7
The NAMI HelpLine can be reached Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. – 10 p.m., ET.
1-800-950-NAMI (6264) or info@nami.org
What’s next? Are you a Mary or a Martha? Within the pages of the Bible, there is a passage about two women who welcomed Jesus into their home. This is my interpretation: While Mary visited with Jesus and listened to His teachings, Martha prepared the meal, cleaned the house last minute, and bustled around trying to plan for the situation at hand. Did they have enough food and drink? Was there a place for Jesus to rest his head? While she was focused on the details, she missed the moment. Looking to the future, the present alluded her and she did not hear the message. Martha heard the untidy house calling for perfection. Expectations, obligations and choices guide our lives. Martha chose the kitchen. Mary chose the floor beneath the feet of Jesus.
Why do we stumble about, planning for a future so clouded one can expect surprises? Why do we hasten between now and then, ignoring our present? Now is all we have.
I am guilty of looking to the future, planning my next move, anticipating one holiday after another. Here comes Christmas! My birthday follows shortly after. Often, my husband and I vacation. I wait anxiously for what comes next, and prepare for those events. I admit, I am mostly a Martha.
Enjoy, laugh, live a life full of empathy and joy. Help others in need. Take care because you can, not because it is expected of you. Access your Martha side. There is a fork in the road, but it turns out to be a loop. Mary is within you as well. In this situation, there is no right or wrong. You choose a path forged specifically for you. Are you a Mary, Martha, or a little of both?
–SJB
*Pictured above is “Berman,” my personification of mental illness.
I recently met a woman who has a daughter with schizophrenia. The meeting was short notice, so I scrambled around my house for resources to discuss and prepared to explain and comfort her during the complicated journey of a concerned parent. As I reached for reference books and other helpful tools, I realized how little I know about this piece of my illness. During the meeting; however, I discovered that I knew more about schizophrenia and psychiatric disorders than I had previously thought!
When I was first introduced to bipolar I disorder, I scoured book stores and picked apart the internet for information concerning this topic. I wanted to know everything so that I could help myself and those who love me. One of the most helpful books I read was the “Bipolar Disorder for Dummies.” This is not a joke. Those books contain a wealth of information on every topic imaginable. Over the course of several years, I learned and experienced bipolar I disorder. During the meeting with a troubled parent, I wondered why it has taken me so long to research the other half of my illness. Rest assured; “Schizophrenia for Dummies” is on its way to my address as we speak. I have made it my mission to learn everything possible so that I can provide useful knowledge to those most in need. Also, I love to learn. would like to share a few pointers I have picked up along my mental health journey:
*Weighted blankets (gravity blankets) are a tremendous aid for subduing anxiety.
*Surround yourself with familiar people and tell your story as often as needed to help heal trauma. Many people have heard my story several times.
*Keep a journal and track your moods.
*Create a cozy atmosphere, find a comfortable place to feel at peace. Spend some time alone to become familiar with yourself (but not too much time alone, which can lead to depression).
*Laughter is the best medicine. Watch a funny show, spend time with friends, Read a funny book. I recommend “Hyperbole and a Half,” and “Solutions and other Problems.” by Allie Brosh.
*Exercise increases serotonin and gives you a happy feeling you can find no other way. It helps secure a deep sleep later. I walk my dog in the morning, and hike with my dad once a week.
*Gardening: Getting dirty on purpose and soaking in Vitamin D is refreshing.
*Track your water and food intake. Keep a food log (not to lose weight; feed your body the healthy fuel it needs). In order to stay hydrated and regular, a person must drink half their body weight in fluid ounces each day. I weigh a little under 120 lbs, so I am supposed to drink 60 fluid ounces each day. I admit that I often do not reach my target. I track both of these on my watch, because I have trouble remembering. It doesn’t have to be an expensive watch. There are many which serve the same purpose.
*Talk therapists (counselors) provide someone to listen and keep conversations confidential.
*Psychiatrists (in some cases) prescribe medication. I recommend following that regimen because I have fallen subject to the consequences of abstaining and sorely regretting it. However; that is not the only route and every body has its own system. In case you are prescribed medication, take your meds! Also, taking them with food helps your body absorb them.
*Accept the support of family, friends, and loved ones (sadly, not available to all).
*Emotional support animals if necessary/affordable (I have a small dog) are comforting.
*Sleep! (I have a lot of trouble with this one).
*Meditation and focusing breath can relax and ground a person. It can help with anxiety, irritability and frustration.”
–SJB
*I am not a licensed professional. I cannot diagnose, or prescribe medication.
These are my personal helpful suggestions.
I am thankful for all of you!! Your support helps to encourage my words. I hope you have a wonderful day with your friends and family. Thank you for reading!
–SJB
I woke up this morning with a different perspective on my psychiatric struggles. I am feeling excited, lucky, and special. I have two psychiatric disorders mixed together. Time, effort, and a great amount of juggling have caused stability in my life. It is difficult to rise above, so I am proud and happy with my work. Writing, drawing, coloring and producing books to my target audience has always been my dream, but I never imagined how therapeutic it would be for my wellbeing. Creativity brings peace. When I was diagnosed with bipolar I disorder, I reached out to receive all of the help and all of the knowledge I could summon. I have been studying this disorder over the course of several years. I was diagnosed at sixteen, and the medications I was administered not only kept my moods stable; they covered up the schizophrenic part of my illness. Schizophrenia laid dormant in my mind long before I was made aware. It fascinates me. In college, I wasn’t able to study psychology; at the time, I thought I knew everything there was to know, and that I would be bored. This was a delusion. I acknowledge now that I am still learning. I will continue to grow and change for the rest of my life.
Though I have been studying bipolar I disorder for more than half my life, I have just scratched the surface with my understanding of schizophrenia. I am quenching my thirst for comprehension; I read and research the work of others as I search deep within myself for answers. Frequently, I converse with my soul. Some might say this is far from “normal.” Sometimes my disorder is exciting, and cause for great happiness; other times it can be scary, a bit uncomfortable, difficult and frustrating. I have traveled a great distance to reach stability. I have a severe case of schizoaffective disorder, so this journey has not been easy. As I am living in this moment, I am grateful for the capability to share my story and to hide no more. I am not alone and neither are you. If you or someone you love is struggling, I hope to shine a light; giving you hope that every day is different. When patience is failing, remember the beautiful parts of yourself trying to break through. This is not the end, but we can take comfort in the good days, knowing that we are much more special than “normal.”
–SJB
*Berman is the personification of my psychiatric disorder.
Since I was a toddler, I have created a safe space for myself in every setting. In my early days, you could find me high in the branches of a tree, pondering life and watching it unfold beneath me. You might have discovered me in the roots of a tree, taking a nap or playing by myself; the tree wrapping her arms around me. Everywhere, I built nests. When I was blessed with a little sister, I occupied the top bunk and she slept below. I created a makeshift canopy made of an old bed sheet attached to the ceiling with push pins, concealing my space. I inherited a fourposter bed from my mom when I acquired my own room, and I covered it in the same manner.
Through the years, I have discovered other forms of hiding. My room was my sanctuary. I have always loved having pockets, not only providing cover for my hands, but occupying them. It’s always difficult to figure out what to do with my hands in a social setting. Hence, pockets! In the sixth grade, I hid my body every day with a jacket three sizes too large. At the age of twelve, I felt a storm brewing under that jacket. Rain leaked from my eyes, leaving wet trails down my face each night. My little sister was outside my bedroom door, begging to help me. I turned her away, considering this a private struggle. I was confused, sad and angry. I was full of dread with no apparent reason. I hid from this illness under jackets, beneath ancient familiar blankets, and sweatshirts with hoods. I tried to block it all out, and unfortunately that included my sister.
I build nests when I feel uncomfortable. In the psychiatric hospital, I disappeared into the recesses of a special hooded sweatshirt. Even now, I sometimes do the same. I bury my face in the folds of an old family quilt, and curl up in my dad’s old sleeping bag. I require much space. When I am overwhelmed and anxious, I spend the night under a weighted blanket. Hiding in my nests comforts me. This is a key ingredient in my stability formula. We all cope differently with the tools we are provided. Building nests has been my specialty. I recognize that Berman will always find me, despite an excellent hiding spot; however, I enjoy a few moments of peaceful solitude.
–SJB
My family moved to Savannah, Georgia when I was halfway through eighth grade. My parents wanted to give me a high school education at one school, so that I would have the same friends for four years. I hoped to be acquainted with those kids in middle school. This plan failed miserably. I was remarkably behind in my studies when I reached the second half of my middle school experience. Many of the students in my classes were in the sixth grade. The friends I was supposed to meet had advanced classes together and had known each other for several years. There was no place for me. I was an outlander.
When I reached public high school, the lessons were difficult. I was still attempting to catch up. I attended Geometry and Algebra ll simultaneously while my middle school alum had finished Geometry in the eighth grade. I am terrible at math. I had three private tutors and remember nothing. I believe that was the result of “cramming.” Why did we fall subject to the torture of Algebra? It was certainly a waste of my time. Why was I forced to agonize over math homework while my sisters enjoyed a video in the next room over?
Aside from schoolwork and friends I was supposed to make, life became increasingly more challenging. I was manic for the entire first year of high school. I was hyper sexual, filled with energy and productivity, artistically inspired, and daring the Sandman to catch me. I made colossal mistakes, promises I couldn’t keep, and lost weight when I had little to lose. My handwriting was atrocious, but my grades were high. I was hyper focused. I behaved strangely in class, faking injuries and stretching on the floor. The guys I wanted relationships with had no interest in getting caught up in my mess, but others took advantage of my vulnerability. My illness began to expand, and turned in all the wrong directions. I carried a lunch box full of small toys, and handed out Mardis Gras beads to those in need of a smile; in that case, a laugh. I was known as “Bead Girl.”
There were other red flags, but encompassing all of this chaos, I was starved for creative control. The high school I was attending had one art class, and that would not quench my thirst. I was so embarrassed once I “came to,” even though it wasn’t my fault. I switched schools. The high school dream of making friends, staying in one school, and being happy there for four years was shattered. I transferred to a performing arts high school, where I studied and created visual art. I was happier, but not “manic happy.” The Bead Girl moved on.
–SJB
I am referring to people with mental illness as Conquerors, because that is what we do every day. We fight valiantly against mental illness.
Signs of Mania:
*Losing sleep/believing it is a waste of time
*High energy and extreme productivity (cannot sit still to read or watch television)
*Unintentional weight loss
*Slurred/Mumbled speech (racing thoughts, not enough time to catch)
*Out of character messy handwriting
*Promises/Obligations not followed through (too much on plate)
*Overly talkative
*Hyper sexual
*Hyper focused
Recognizing and Handling Situation:
*Keep close watch for symptoms
*Monitor behavior over time
*As a loved one, seek advice personally to gain knowledge from a professional (not me) before confronting a conqueror.
*I recommend not forcing help upon the conqueror. The conqueror may need that eventually, but give time for individual to ask for help. No one likes to be bossed around, and that can backfire.
*Sometimes, a conqueror will recognize signs and will need space to do so, instead of dealing with suggestions or hinting that you are noticing symptoms. That is frustrating when conqueror is attempting to learn on own.
–SJB
Please contact me if you have questions! I am not a professional but I have an extensive amount of experience. I am available by email and here to help!
Mom huddled beside me at the bottom of the stairs. She treated my depression as if it were as serious as the flu. Now I know it’s more like invisible flu.
In my life, pockets are sanctuary for idle hands. In group settings, I do not know what to do with my hands; a dress with pockets or a sweatshirt with a hood give me comfort. When I was in the eighth grade, my family moved from a town with no secrets to a large world without pockets. I was immensely overwhelmed. I could feel the depression eating me alive, swallowing me whole. I thought it would pass, but it only got worse. The dreadful stomachaches began when I was twelve. I had no psychiatrist, only a pediatrician. He couldn’t put a finger on it. There wasn’t clear evidence of physical ailment, so he was out of his element.
This part is important and doesn’t apply to everyone. I learned it the hard way. Those in dire need of help often do not receive it. I discovered-in my journey through school- that help was available to me and I was unaware. Therefore; I did not benefit from services provided. I suffered greatly through school, nearly failing college. I was not informed about Disability Resources. There is treatment, open doors; help was obtainable. I had to ask. For years I could have been learning at my own pace, taking space, decreasing the burden of stress in my body. Upon this discovery, I was permitted to leave in the middle of a school day to visit my psychiatrist and enjoy lunch before returning to class. I napped in a comfortable chair for hours waiting for my appointments. Sleep is so important when treating my case, and who doesn’t want an afternoon siesta? I did not technically skip school, but my life was much more comfortable than I imagined possible. I urge anyone dealing with these issues to explore this avenue. The illness did not define me, but I had no idea it was real. I thought I was alone.
When we moved to Savannah, Georgia, I was behind in all my classes and dreadful stomachaches occurred often. Reading Greek mythology was more than I could handle in the moment. My mom understood this, and she was a light in my darkness. We finished “The Odyssey” together. My odyssey had just begun.
–SJB