As I’m sure you are aware, Christmas is not about how many gifts are under the tree. It’s not about slaving away in the kitchen over the perfect meal to feed a hungry army of extended family members. Essentially, it is and always has been about the birth of Jesus, and God’s love for us. It is about the love we have for one another. Sharing precious moments and being grateful for the blessings bestowed upon us.
For many, Christmas is a happy time, but not for everyone. Many people are experiencing loss of family members, friends, and neighbors. This holiday has been one of the most tragic for people struggling with mental illness. People are dealing with grief, drastic changes in mood, suicide and depression. Some have no tangible reasons to feel this way. Psychiatric disorders are invisible, after all.
If you are struggling with major depression and having thoughts of suicide, know that there are people around you who love you very much and never want to lose you. Spend as much time in the sun as you can, and find time to exercise during your day to increase the flow of endorphins in your mind. Talk to someone about your feelings; consider therapy; and keep an open mind about medication. Above all, remember that the end is not the answer. There are always ways to fix things with words, actions, and support from others. You are not alone! There is a light in the darkness. If you have no one to help you bear this burden, call this number:
NATIONAL SUICIDE PREVENTION LIFELINE:
988
Available 24 hours
A message to all of the friends, families and loved ones of those afflicted: Pay attention and be prepared to listen. You can also call this number if you need extra support.
Once Upon a Time…thirty-five years ago…my life was forever changed. I became a big sister for the first time. I was extremely excited. My sole disappointment was the discovery that she would not be able to play with me immediately.
As an only child, my parents set up play dates with friends my age, but I never knew how to truly love someone until my sister was born. When you spend your life knowing someone, there are always adjectives to describe them; as you both grow and learn together, your relationship takes you to a place where words are unnecessary.
Jessica is selfless and kind. She listens, and her heart is so full. She loves her family to the greatest extent, and cares for others above her own needs.
Over the years, as I was Jessica’s big sister, she was also mine. I walked her down the aisle at lunch, taking great care to protect her from peanuts. We have laughed and cried together, played and fought. I made all kinds of mistakes, and supposedly she was meant to learn from them. Whether or not they were lessons, we made a lot of them together. We never turned our backs to each other. She has stood by me in my darkest hours.
Jessica is an extraordinary person, my best friend, and my first little sister. She is my hero, and certainly an angel on earth. I am so grateful to have Jessica in my life, and I am honored to be her big sister. I love her beyond measure. On this day and every day, I celebrate her life.
Many people talk to themselves in one form or another. We curse at ourselves when we fail. We pat ourselves on the back for a job well done. Sometimes we mumble under our breath. But does anyone else get a response?
When I was first diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder, I strived to uncover the mystery of my mind. I learned how to recognize the symptoms of oncoming mania. It was obvious when I was depressed. My mental illness became a self project. I employed workbooks, read memoirs, researched, watched and became more aware of my situation. I learned to harness my emotions, as if I were riding a horse for the first time, or biking with training wheels. I couldn’t always catch the signs, but as my illness progressed, so did I. Truthfully, I was dealt a cruel hand, but I squeezed that rotten lemon and moved on with my life.
As I ran, and slipped, and fell, I realized that in order to rise to the top you must first hit the bottom.
I worked my way through education with heavy eyelids and acne that threatened to claim my face forever, side effects of several medications hindering my progress. I loved to run and I was captain of the cross country team in high school. Toward the end of my running career, I began to experience a side effect called “ocular gyro crisis.” I lost control of my eyes. I didn’t know how to explain it, so this continued for a few years before it was diagnosed. It is one of the rarest side effects of one of the heavy medications in the cocktail.
Shortly after my twenty fifth birthday, I was hospitalized. After many months, different combinations of drugs, several shots in violating areas, and miserable weeks in solitary confinement, it was clear that Bipolar I Disorder was not the entire truth. When I returned to my home after the nightmare of captivity, I was diagnosed with Schizoaffective Disorder. It is a mix of Schizophrenia and a mood disorder. My illness had taken control for a while. I can hear things and see things others cannot. When I talk to myself, she answers. She is not the only voice I hear. Sometimes, there is a conversation between two strangers in the back of my mind, to which I am not privy. Random keys and phrases from their discussion pop up and make no sense.
Voices in my head often sing songs and tell jokes. Often, they are good company.
Sometimes voices influence people to do bad things. These are not voices to follow, no matter the constant beckoning. You will find yourself lost in a sea of confusion, drawn to the sirens. It is impossible to find peace when voices surround you. Typically, they cannot be silenced. I just want you to know that you are not the only one who deals with this, and I hope you can find some comfort in knowing that. I am one of those people and I haven’t figured it out myself.
While I was in solitary confinement, I grew used to conversations with myself because she was all I had. My best friend. I am aware that others have predicaments like these. The mental health system does not have the capacity, resources or knowledge needed to care for everyone; especially people who need it most and cannot afford it. This is wrong. Some people, despite having money, also have difficulty finding relief of their burdens. The system is flawed. Everyone has a mental illness of some sort, whether or not they care to be diagnosed. Some cases are worse than others, but no one is “normal,” no matter how much they want to believe it.
Those voices are inside you, but YOU are the boss.
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Rush and I met eight years ago, when I moved to north Georgia. He owned and managed a local art gallery downtown. Over the course of a few weeks, I knew for certain that he was my person. Much of my time was spent visiting Rush in his gallery. I felt I had to come up with some alternate reasons to visit him, other than the fact that I enjoyed his company and was not ready to make the first move. I brought him coffee from the coffee shop around the corner; we had lunch together as friends; I pretended to be in search of the perfect pair of earrings, because the earring tree was right in front of him. I honestly visited him because I was falling in love with him, and he wasn’t aware. I finally summoned the courage and after four years of dating, we have been married for four years. I have learned a lot about this man in all those years. For one, he does not like to accept compliments, but it’s his birthday. He is a special person, worthy of celebration.
My husband is a calming presence, a good listener, and my best friend. He is delightfully funny, and I cannot kiss him without smiling. Rush is kind and generous. He is one of the most selfless people I know, with a big heart and not a hateful bone in his body. Rush cares not only with his words but with his actions, giving of himself and leaving no room for doubt that his works are a product of his unconditional love.
I searched for my soulmate over the course of my whole life. Rush was worth the wait. Today and every day, I celebrate his life. I am so very grateful that our paths finally crossed.
While you are watching classic 80’s horror films this weekend and eating your children’s candy, notice that most of the movies involve asylums. When the characters’ accounts of evil deeds and supernatural encounters are disbelieved, they end up in psychiatric facilities where they are deemed “crazy.” Please know that these depictions are far from the truth. People are afraid of the unknown, so they create stories that feed the stigma of mental illness. There are no “crazy” people, and the ones suffering the most are in need of help, not fear. We are not the bad guys.
–SJB
P.S. Halloween can be a dangerous time for pets. Beware of unsupervised candy. Even dragons are allergic to chocolate.
Standing on a rock in the middle of a creek, white water rushing beneath us, we said our vows before a small audience of close family. The world was suffering from a pandemic, so the wedding was outside and only ten people were allowed to attend. There are six members of the Buice family and four Smiths, so we did not have to struggle with a guest list. Mom and I had fun planning, and it was much less overwhelming than a large wedding may have been. My sisters stood beside me, as they always have. Each had a part in reading psalms, taking pictures, bearing rings, and trying to maintain dry eyes. It was a beautiful ceremony, and the best day of my life. My mom made the cake, my dad performed the service, and Rush’s parents drove for hours on their 50th wedding anniversary to witness the beginning of our marriage. After we pledged to love and keep each other for the rest of our lives, my dad turned to Susan and Walton, who renewed their vows.
There was a small reception, with a dance floor solely for a “first dance” and a “father/daughter.” My husband let me choose the “first dance song.” Not every man is as wonderful as he-for many reasons-and even though I chose a cheesy boy band number, he led me around the dance floor as if it was Classical.
I could not have gotten luckier.
I have acquired incredible in-laws who have always treated me like family. I am honored to have a loving sister in-law, a fun big brother, and have become an aunt to three nieces and a nephew. I have joined a family full of kind and welcoming aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. Life does not get better than this.
We celebrate eight years of life together and four years of marriage. The world is full of puzzle pieces that do not fit. It is a beautiful occurrence to find the piece that connects perfectly. During the first week I spent with Rush, I knew I had met my match.
Since the beginning of time, there has been mystery revolving around why we began and how. Many turn to God, others to science. Some believe that maybe there wasn’t a why. We just are. No matter the reason, we have many questions. Does one grow into adulthood having followed the breadcrumbs scattered by their ancestors? Is the environment in which we mature a major factor in our development? Why are we all so different?
Humans exist in many parts of the world, puzzle pieces that do not fit together. We are born into feast or famine; into lands long coveted and violence in the name of greed and power. People are different colors, speak different languages, live in cultures misunderstood by others. I wonder why.
Why is it so difficult for us to communicate? This is surely not due to our conflicting languages. Humans are selfish by nature, and though we may fool our parents, we never learn to share. Sadly, tragedies bring us together above all else. We realize we are not so different. We are all human. A devastating storm provokes the empathy inside ourselves we thought was depleted. We create a ripple. It seems we are not here solely to serve ourselves, but to learn how to love one another. With eyes open, we spread our arms and step closer to peace.
Death is an event for which we are never prepared. When our time is up, it is difficult to let go of control. It is hard to leave loved ones behind, sometimes worse for the survivors. No one deserves to die, based on their behavior or their lot in life. The Reaper finds us all. Life is not fair. Death is not fair. Angels are sometimes snatched from Earth before we are ready to let go.
In the 1990’s, Accelerated Reader was a program utilized to encourage students’ comprehension of written material. Children read books, then tested their knowledge of those books. Depending on positive scores, points were awarded. There was a heated competition for the top spot on the ladder. Derrick Dendy and I held the top two spots. He was always a few points ahead. I began to consider him “Reader One,” and resigned myself to “Reader One Too.” That kid did nothing but read. I imagine he had a book in the bath, on his lap on the toilet, in his bed with a flashlight long past bedtime. He must have read books during breakfast, lunch and dinner. He probably took ten books on vacation. Derrick Dendy did nothing but read. I could never obtain the top spot, no matter how I tried.
When my family moved, I lost touch with Derrick. Then, years later there was social media. I became curious and reached out. When I found Derrick’s account, I asked him how many books he had read over the summer. Six. I was halfway through my fifth. Even then, I fell short of the top score.
A number of years ago, Derrick passed on. He had a heart condition and was unable to receive a transplant. Though my friend is no longer with us, he will never be forgotten. “They” say to “Write what you know.” I know that Derrick is enjoying an endless selection of books. He is reading, because it’s all he ever does. May Peace Be With You, Reader One.
Thirty-one years ago, my baby sisters were born. For months, my sister, Jessica, and I anticipated their birth. When Jessica was born, I was disappointed when I discovered that she was not capable of playing as soon as she emerged. This time, I thought I was prepared. I was wrong. In my wildest dreams I could not have imagined life with two new sisters. Now, I can’t imagine life without them.
Kimberly is two minutes older. She is an incredible person. In situations where others may have thrown in the towel, she battles to the end and accomplishes her goals. She is highly intelligent and confident, teaching English in a room full of teenagers. She is a planner and throws great parties. She travels so much that I almost never know her whereabouts. Kimberly is thoughtful, and intuitive. She knows how to make people feel better when they are down. She is beautiful inside and out, and her life is a gift to all who cross her path. I am proud of Kimberly and honored to be her big sister. I celebrate her birth every day.
Amy is the baby. She is hilarious and a joy to be around. She is goofy and fun. She is also stubborn and does not take “No.” for an answer. She works harder than anyone I know, and she is dedicated not only to her job, but mostly to her family. Amy showers people with the love she carries inside and leaves no room for doubt. She is comforting and holds people together when everything is falling apart. She is the glue, the rock, the home. I am proud of Amy and honored to be her big sister. I am so very glad she was born.
My sisters are my best friends. I have heard the phrase “You can choose your friends, but not your family.” I choose my family always.
Happy Birthday to my “New” Sisters! I love you both beyond words.
