Samantha Jane Buice

Once Upon a Time…a hare challenged a tortoise to a race. Surprisingly, the tortoise was the victor. The story leans heavily on the hare’s miscalculation of the turtle’s strength. We are told that the rabbit takes a break, thinking that the turtle is no match for his capabilities. The turtle exceeds his expectations.

Was the hare misunderstood? Maybe he believed he could outrun the turtle, but what if he knew his limits and needed a bit to collect himself? Can we see this story from the hare’s point of view? It is historically one-sided.

Many stories are passed by word of mouth. Later, someone records them as fact. Are we to believe that this story is uncomplicated? Knowledge gleaned from this interpretation could indicate that haste makes waste. Supposedly, the rabbit would have won the race, had he not been so confident and deemed himself superior to the tortoise. Surely, a turtle cannot outrun a hare. Yet, he succeeded! Slow and steady wins the race. This begs the question, why did the hare take a break? Did he rest, assuming he would win even if he stopped for a minute? This is what we are told. In truth, only the hare can answer this question.

In my experience with cross country racing, the athletes who start with the most speed, confidence and excitement typically wear out halfway to the end. The runners who keep a steady pace usually win, expending all of their lasting energy at the finish. Maybe the hare lost his steam. Perhaps the rabbit had other issues. When a person spends most of their time winning races, the ones they lose hit them the hardest. Racing is not enjoyable for a runner who is wrought with mental illness and pumped full of psychiatric medications. Younger versions of the competitor surpass them. Maybe the hare was not prepared for bipolar disorder and had no energy to train over the summer; the illness taking hold. The team members who lagged behind for years crept steadily forward and overtook the rabbit. This broke his heart. He fell increasingly toward the back of the line. The turtles began to win. He had gotten too familiar with his status at the front, and losing it took a toll.

It is important to note that the hare finished the race. Though it appeared that he had lost, he gained respect for others and over time grew to love running more than racing. Sometimes the turtles win, but not always.

–SJB

When you spend a sufficient amount of time with others who share your troubles, relationships form quite easily. It is only when those loved ones are lost that we appreciate how they affected our lives. Six-eight months in a psychiatric hospital, surrounded by companions, there is a level of security and a lack of judgement from the outside world. It is comforting to be near fellow strugglers. Some of us hide our illnesses better than others. I believe we feel it necessary to cloak ourselves in order to fit into society. When we are separated we are left to wonder what happens to our friends? I have lost touch with those souls, but I think of them often. Never before have I experienced that form of love and compassion. We built each other up, we lowered our walls, we loved and then we said goodbye.

I am one who believes that villains are made, not born. Somewhere in all of our lives, there is a fork in the road. The cards are stacked against many people who lack support, guidance, friendship, money, medication, a roof over their heads. There are those who hear the whispers in their heads grow louder, and impossible to ignore. Without proper care, these individuals are invisible, lost to stigma. The fictional character called the “Joker” faced these issues. I watched a movie depicting his fall. It was inevitable. While I watched, I felt a closeness to this “villain.” Somewhere along the way, he wrote a quote I will never forget.

“The worst part of having a mental illness is people expect you to behave as if you don’t.”

-Arthur Fleck “Joker”

We are not villains, yet we are painted in a dark light; immediately blamed for crimes before evidence is provided. Our minds are beautiful and complicated, worthy of study and nourishment. No one should feel less of a person because of their psychiatric disorder. There is much to be learned, and much to explore, without closed minds. Open your hearts to the jokers.

–SJB

When someone asks, “Are you alright?” it’s a question. It expresses concern; it is meant to be comforting, yet alright for some is not alright for everyone. Reassuring someone else that a difficult situation is alright is based on their own state of mind. Alright is subjective. This may not be the case for the other person. Maybe it’s a hot day; you aren’t spending it the way you would like, and you are frustrated. Perhaps you are upset and alright is not the sentiment you are ready to feel. Alright is not the word for this occasion.

I was diagnosed with bipolar 1 disorder at the age of sixteen. My life was a mess. I was dealing with ups and downs. In the beginning, I was not always aware of a manic episode, and my mom usually sensed it before I did. It infuriated me. I wanted to be in control of my body, but for years I needed help. To this day, I appreciate all of the love and support from my family; but I acknowledge that everything was not alright, not all the time.

Mom could sense the difference in my voice, my appetite, my energy level. She would ask, “Are you alright?” “Are you okay?” “Have you taken your meds?” When she checked in with me that way, I became irate. It was hard to accept the support she was trying to impart, because it seemed she could read my book without cracking the spine. I wanted to know my body better than anyone else could, catch these signs and understand their meaning in a timely fashion. The sooner you catch mania, the better. Many years later, I am not always alright; but I have made it so far. I have not passed the point where alright is a feeling which can be was forced upon me, even from friends. Feelings are fickle that way. My mom was always there for me, and it took quite a while for me to appreciate her efforts.

Now, I recognize the question, “Are you alright?” as a sign of concern. I do not welcome the assumption that everything is alright only because it is alright for someone else. We all have to feel our emotions as they trickle through our minds; only we can convince ourselves that we are alright.

Today, I feel alright. Thanks for asking.

–SJB

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.

I hope you all have a safe and Happy Holiday!

—SJB

In 2015, I moved to north Georgia with my parents. I was 27 years old, and recovering from a long bout of mania straight out of a psychiatric hospital in Maryland. I was slowly healing- with strong family support- but I was lonely. I was beginning to believe I would be a burden for the remainder of my existence.

Throughout the start of my new situation, I made and lost friends. Rush was constant, supportive, unwavering, and had more patience than anyone I had ever met. We became good friends, and soon we were more than partners. We fell in love.

Rush is easy to love. He causes boisterous laughter, draws out a smile- no matter how poorly a day has gone. Rush genuinely cares for others. He doesn’t make empty promises. When someone is in trouble, he is quick to aid. He loves deeply, and is loyal to family and friends. Kind to all. Rush is a good listener, so skilled that you might think he isn’t listening. If you are fortunate to know Rush even a little, you can feel the warmth of his heart and bask in the rays of his bright character. I am honored to know him, and lucky enough to be his wife.

Recently we celebrated Rush’s birthday. I celebrate his birth every day, and try not to take him for granted. When you find a person this wonderful, do not let them slip through your fingers. Rush is quite a catch. I am planning to keep him.

Happy birthday, to the love of my life!

–SJB

Below: First Kiss (September 2016)

“They” say that a picture is worth a thousand words. I have record of our relationship from the beginning, having printed and gazed upon the pictures of our past, with fondness. We are worth more than a thousand words. My husband, Rush and I have spent several years together, building our bond piece by piece. Our puzzle has been difficult and beautiful. It has been complicated and has not been completed in haste. I am an artist. When I was very young, I believed that art was accomplished in one sitting. I hadn’t learned that masterpieces are not achieved instantly. They are ever changing and growing. Our marriage continues to flourish.

The beauty of love is that it lasts forever. When a person says, “I don’t love you anymore,” it means they never did. Love is patient and kind, and a whole lot of work. As humans we have to learn to love. It isn’t handed to us like a happily ever after, no matter whether or not you grew up believing that fairy tales were true. Marriage is hard, but valuable. We thrive on special moments, the laughter and jokes, and put each other’s needs before our own. Compromising. Holding hands. Holding hearts. Protecting the strong foundation we have built upon friendship. My husband is my best friend. I spend more time with him than with anyone else (except our dog, Logan). Rush knows me, good and bad-the same way I know him. We have loved each other for quite some time. I knew he was my person since the first week of our “steadiness.”

When I was twelve, I had a favorite boy band. One of their songs perplexed me. The quote I pondered for years is:

“I’ve been standing here all along.”

I used to scan my surroundings for a boy who was “standing there all along” for me. I never found him. When my feelings for Rush surpassed the boundaries of friendship, I visited him at work every day. I brought him coffee and flirted with him shamelessly, but he did not pick up on my affectionate feelings for him. I stood across the counter near the earrings, pretending that I was there to pick the best option. I was there because the display was closest to him. One day, I asked him to be my boyfriend and he was surprised.

Soon after, I realized that I was “standing there all along” for him.

Below: Honeymoon (September 2025)

Rush and I dated for two years, and then I moved in with him. Shortly after, we adopted a dog. Two years after that, we got married. Five years later, we are stronger than ever. So far, Happily Ever After.

Today we celebrate five years of marriage and pray for many more, aspiring to be as solid as our parents’ examples. Wishing Susan and Walton (Rush’s parents) a happy anniversary as well. We were married on their 50th.

Happy “anniversity” to the love of my life.

–SJB

On Sunday, we celebrate the lives of two beautiful women-inside and out. They are two of my favorite people, and I am honored to be their big sister. 32 years ago, I held these two babies. Now, I hold a baby boy born of one of these babies. Bizarre. Time flies when you’re having fun, and it flies when you aren’t paying attention. For a while, I thought I was the only one growing older, but when I look around at the people in my life, they have grown and changed as well. I am so proud of these two. They have built lives for themselves on a foundation of love and support from our family, and have developed lasting friendships. Both women are successful in life because they possess a drive to be everything they can possibly be in this lifetime. They are adventurers, and have homes when they return. They have loved and are loved unconditionally. Our family would have holes in it without them. Mom and Dad wanted a third child, and thank goodness we got two.

Kimberly, Amy, Happy birthday and many more. I love you. It has been a privilege to watch you grow.

–Samantha

“Everyone is weird. If you think you’re not weird, you’re really weird.”

–Susan Bradford

When I was a kid, I did not have many friends. I was surrounded by people, but I was lonely. It was important to “fit in” and I could never fit anywhere. I judged myself inwardly and out, was filled with anger and sadness. I thought there were many “imperfections” about my body, so I tried to hide under a large jacket and wore over-sized clothing so that no one else would see me the way I did. It is difficult to find happiness when you are comparing yourself to the “popular kids.” If you can believe it, everyone is feeling the same way you are. When others are mean, it’s because they are trying to deal with their own “imperfections.” No one is perfect, and growing up is hard.

Middle school in the 90s was difficult, but social media had yet to poison young minds. I cannot imagine what it must feel like to live a life counting your “likes” and “hearts.” My world was free of cyber bullying and I did not exist behind a screen. We had “regular” bullying, which still exists today. Youths are taunted for many reasons. I remember the phrase:

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”

Words pierce us like knives. They do hurt. Not physically, but they sink deep into our bones and produce rivers of tears. People can be cruel, and often it’s because they are also hurting. It’s important to accept our differences and to own our “imperfections,” because a body is a home for your soul. Inside everybody is a person doing their best to tread water.

On Wednesday afternoons, when I was 12 years old, my mom lead a group called “Kid’s Fellowship,” focused on anti-bullying and communicating without physical altercations. She wrote the slogan:

“Build each other up. Don’t tear each other down. Don’t bully, boss, or push around.”

We worked on getting along with each other and some of us became close friends. It was a good way to cooperate and play together, resolving conflict peacefully. We did not “post” or “comment” virtually, and we weren’t attacked with negative reviews. We argued and worked through our issues with “real” words. There was no texting. There were no photos of our lunch for the world to see. There was no callous, virtual body shaming. Eating disorders were not encouraged. Bipolar disorder was not a fad.

If I could send a message to my twelve year old self, I would tell her to be brave. It takes courage to be a teenager, especially at the beginning. I want her to know how special she is without a doubt, and that being different is a beautiful way to live life. Though she felt alone, she never was. It escaped her vision. Twelve year old Samantha had many challenges, but a marvelous truth existed in her world. She had people she could trust, and asking for help was one of her greatest steps toward healing.

When you feel lost, turn to the people you love. They are waiting to help as soon as you are ready to share this burden. You do not have to face your problems alone.

This is not the end of your story.

–SJB

When mental illness leads you down an impossibly long chute or up an extremely steep ladder, hospitalization is an option; in my case, it was a step toward health. There are many stages of healing. The hospital was full of therapists, psychiatrists, medications, hot meals, and the closest friends I have ever had. They were kindred spirits, and we kept each other from tipping the boat. Deep love happened there. It was easy for me to remember everyone’s names by giving them fairytale labels.

“Cinderella” leapt out of a moving car to escape an abusive marriage. We conversed while slightly distracted by our coloring books. “Robin” has severe schizophrenia. We learned our similarities through group activities, and became quite close. “Prince Jesus” helped us to stay calm, and prayed with us. I told him once that if he stopped calling himself “Prince Jesus” they might let him out. The goal is to heal and be released. When that happened, we lost our friends forever. We were left to wonder: Where are they? Are they safe? Are they warm? Taking their meds? Can they afford them? Are they in the hospital or are they at home? Are they alive?

Friends on the outside make time for each other. Relationships only exist when each party is dedicated; nothing is permanent unless it is important to both people. Some of these friendships do not stand the test of time.

Friends detained within locked doors together are friends forever. We filled our hearts with others who shared our deepest secrets and judged not. It was a relief to find these souls. No one taunted us, glanced sideways, treated us as though we were weird. We know we are weird. It’s part of what makes us unique; we gravitated toward one another. There were no “mean girls,” or “jocks” or hypocritical outsiders there. It was just us, and it was refreshing.

We held each other tight, laughed, cried, prayed, lifted the fallen. These relationships brought us freedom behind bars.

–SJB

Many people are perpetually hypnotized by some form of virtual reality. Faces are glued to screens, eyelids are closed. Surroundings do not exist. Friends and loved ones are neglected, and life passes by; we do not say “Hello,” or “Goodbye.” Little is talked about, texting or video chatting is the norm. When did you last stop to look into the eyes of the person sitting in front of you? How many relationships are real; who has time for those?

We are sinking further into technology quick sand; basing our truth on the news channels we watch and believing that the internet has all the answers. The thinking is done for us. The public has lost its ability to communicate in the physical realm, turning to vices more dangerous than we may realize. Children are exposed to uncensored material. Texting has simplified vocabulary to its barest components. The world has become isolated.

I like to speak to strangers, making brief personal connections. I often ask random questions to other shoppers in the grocery store, fishing for advice and suggestions. Some people are obviously engrossed in their virtual bubbles; I have seen a trend of headphones! People are so distracted they don’t realize you are talking to them. Headphones! How will we survive if no one can hear us?

We have built impenetrable walls around ourselves. When I was little, walls were flexible. My siblings and I would barricade ourselves behind cereal boxes at breakfast, blocking our view of each other. Mornings can be rough. Throughout the day, the walls were demolished. My sisters and I laughed and played outside; we used our imaginations. There were no smart phones or social media and we didn’t watch much television. We climbed trees and ran wild.

Those days are gone, but I feel so lucky to have grown up this way. In the physical world, we didn’t worry about how many “likes” or “hearts” were awarded to our posts. There were much better ways to pass the time. Trends come and go, but you cannot put a price on an imagination. Remember that reality will only survive if we listen and create original thoughts. Look away from your screen. Look up and experience “real” life.

–SJB