I'm a caregiver for my crazy brother. I can relate. Nice to see a happy ending.

My son's supervisor -- a wise and gentle woman who'd never flinched, even when he was at his craziest -- had called to say she was holding his job for him, maintaining his health insurance, and hoping for his swift recovery.

Even if I were an atheist, I would want there to be a heaven so this supervisor could go there after she dies.

I commend Ms.Bauer for sharing such personal and painful details with the readers. I agree that a less dramatic title would serve the material better.

Less drama is always my choice ,I grew up with a bipolar dad. More drama than one could shake a stick at during the manic phase. During this phase he would refuse to take his meds. To do so was an afront to his manhood or some trumped-up-crap-like-that! He would abuse my sainted mother,not in an narrowly specific manner,rather there was a range from physical bullying(my mom was 5'2" 145lbs,he was 5'11 245lbs. all muscle-you do the math)To loud verbal attacks, totally unprevoked. she tolerated way more than was expected ,simply because she loved him beyond all reason. All together,it wasn't working.

I took it on myself to hide his medication in his food. I know this is unethical.It is probably immoral and definately illegal in most jurisdictions.Tough shit! I would have/could have just as easily put stricknine in his food to get him off my mom's case.Believe me, I gave it close + careful consideration. I knew if he ever found the meds I would only have one chance to put him down.He was bigger and much stronger than most men on the block.I had an deadbolt put on my bedroom door,with instructions to my mom to take refuge there when ever needed. I got an old phone and made sure it was always plugged in ,in case we needed outside backup,we could phone for help from my room. It took about a month to see any substantive results from his sanative medications.

We had survived to see him enter a more moderate phase of the cycle. His personality would return to a somewhat normal balance.Never remembering what he had said or done in the worst of his rages. I had difficulty believing he was unable to remember anything from the maniacal phase.

I am not the most forgiving of souls.All of these years later I still harbour some resentment toward him ,now dead and resting peacefully ,one would hope.with my mother by his side.I was fifteen the first time he cycled through his nightmares.Without the meds either he or I would have ended up dead.

It was lather,rinse repeat until I moved away to go to school,in my early twenties.

In my thirties I lost my beautiful sister to suicide because she stopped her meds.She too had developed bipolar disorder.So go figure.It's six of one and half a dozen of the other.

As for me ,I survive by taking my anti-anxiety,anti-depressent and anti-psychotic medications.I have a pretty good idea what would happen if I cut out the meds all together. The meds give one the illusion of having control over one's life.Ha.

Psychiatrists often overprescribe drugs and they don't spend enough time with a patient to really diagnose them effectively. I blame Freud. He convinced the world that what we now know as "mental illness" was only "psychological". Even now, a lot of people don't understand that mental illnesses are REAL illnesses, not just conditions of the mind like love and hate. As a result of Freud derailing investigation into the physical causes of mental illness for many decades, exactly at the time that the study of physical illnesses was proceeding at breakneck speed, he has done society a great disservice. Scientists are only now beginning to understand the brain/body connection. The most advance psychiatrists prescribe a combination of minimal meds, therapy, lifestyle management, and tolerance for whatever remains. The more hurried doctors skip the education/therapy part and simply dope the patients into submission.

I wrote earlir about how bipolar people have to stay on their meds. Doctors could make this easier, if they carefully considered the necessity of each medication and kept the dosage to a bare minimum. But many health plans don't cover therapy, since there is a perception that only healthy people need therapy. As society recongized that mental illness is a real sickness, not unlike diabetes or thyroid illness, there will be more attention paid to ensuring that mentally ill people get a well-rounded treatment, not just druge.

Was Bauer's son on psych meds? Yes, he was. He was on one type after another. Did he get better? No, he got worse. Is the behavior she describes crazy? As much as I dislike the word crazy rather than the words mentally ill, I have to admit that this characterization seems to accurately fit the behavior she describes, which went away when he was finally taken off all psych meds.

Hello? Something is wrong with some of the responses to the article. Some people seem so eager to rush to defend the good uses of psych meds. Some people seem strangely concerned about bipolar people and them going off their psych meds under the influence of the headline. Bauer's son is not bipolar. He is autistic.

Frankly, I think there is a mental health problem going on in the responses. It is called brainwashing. So many people are so programed to say get thee to a counselor, a psychologist, a psychiatrist for every painful mental circumstance that I am sometimes suprised that there are any unmedicated worried, blue, stressed, or frustrated people still left in America. I am suprised teenagers are still allowed to have a little adolescent angst. I am surprised that everyone who suffers the loss of a loved one does not become a legal junkie courtesy of those well-dressed, perk-giving drug pushers and Big Pharma.

My own sorry story started in grad school. I took 18 hours of English two semesters in a row. I am a slow reader. I was determined to maintain a 3.8 GPA. Was I stressed? You betcha. I was prescribed Paxil for my stress. The rest of the story is a really horrifying one similar to Bauer's about her son.

I am not one bit Autistic. However, so eager were my caregivers to keep me on drugs that I spend the next seven years in an utter nightmare.

Before Paxil, I never had serious suicidal thoughts.

Before Paxil, I never had a panic attack.

Before Paxil, I never had a PTSD-type flashback.

Before Paxil, the damn floor never moved.

Before Paxil, I never thought seriously of actually laying out a plan to hurt others.

Before Paxil, my Seasonal Affective Disorder was manageable.

Before Paxil, I was not just a good mother, I was an exemplary parent.

Before Paxil, although stressed, I got my work done.

Before Paxil, I never expected to be homeless.

Before Paxil, I was sane.

Someone in this thread said that one should be informed and advocate for oneself. You have no idea how hard that is to do when you have some sort of odd drug-induced despair and ennui.

The first time I tried to get off of Paxil, I had a complete breakdown. This is because I did not know one must taper off SSRIs very slowly. The second time, after serious physical side effects landed me in the hospital, I began to taper off all psychological, mood altering drugs. It took me six months to get clean. It took me another year to feel human.

I am now stable, psych med free, and so glad to still be alive. How did I make it? I read a book critical of SSRIs. I cannot even remember the name of it because I was in such a fog, but I will be eternally grateful to the author.

I have a life now. The downward spiral ended. I am well now. However, no one can give me back those seven years. Furthermore, my daughter, who I have always loved so dearly was harmed by my circumstances. Who can take away that guilt?