I am the youngest of two, with a brother 8 years my senior. It was very difficult when he went away to Georgetown from our home (Lake Oswego, Oregon), in part, because he did not come back home for more than three years. This was very hard on me, as I worshiped him. He has turned out to be an *********, sadly, and I have not spoken to him in almost 8 years. Happily, I might add. Jerk. If he died tomorrow, I can promise you I would not attend his service. I don't even have a brother. I never did.

My dad was a very sort of famous dermatologist who was very politically active (medical politics) and was always gone to Chicago, where the American Academy of Dermatology is HQ'd. He basically ran it for a number of years. As a result, I spent all my time with my mom. She was an excellent mother, but certainly far from doting. Expectations were extremely high in that house. School performance was expected to be top-rate, no exceptions. I basically never was in trouble as a result of this very strict upbringing. Fear is a powerful motivator.

One benefit of my dad's success was that we got to travel quite a bit. We rafted and canoed many of the more well-known rivers in the West. Went to Hawaii 8 million times. Had a wonderful trip to DC and all the museums and another neat one to NYC, where I would ultimately attend college. My folks really provided a wonderful upbringing, despite it being so very strict.

When my wife and I told my mom and dad that I had become addicted to Ultram in 1999, before my bipolar diagnosis, my mother looked me in the eye and without hesitation, said: "Well, you certainly didn't get that from me!" She was not the most empathetic woman ever, God rest her soul.

My response to all this has been to be much less strict with my own kids, which for me, has been the right move. Both are great kids and they have not had to live with the fear I did, and I am happy about that.