Virginia Woolf, who knew a thing or two about mental illness, noted in her diary: "Vivienne! Was there ever such torture since life began! — to bear her on one's shoulders, biting, wriggling, raving, scratching, unwholesome, powdered, insane, yet sane to the point of insanity."
A quibble: Eliot (like C.S. Lewis) converted to Anglo-Catholicism, not Roman Catholicism. When I was in grade school we used to pray that Lewis would take the further step.