Friday 21^st May

So here we are.  I know Joshua is a social butterfly; he is well liked, loved, with a huge circle of friends. But he is with me, on a Friday night. At my house with his girlfriend, and he should be out, with her and his mates. I’m unsure if he is trying to pull the wool over my eyes or really making an effort. As the evening wears on he doesn’t go out. His so called friends are already alienating him. The attractive kid with a job, money, and a nice new car doesn’t want to come out and play tonight. I have come to the conclusion that maybe he was feeding other peoples habits too. Not that he ever needed to buy his friends, but if he was going to participate, and knowing Joshua, he wouldn’t want to do it alone.  He confirms that this is true.

 As the evening continues I’m quietly impressed – but then again it’s his first weekend of not going out, so it’s very early days.

Sat 22^nd may

He has stuck to his word and is here again tonight. He spent his wages on clothes – all of it. He went on line and blew the lot. He says if he has no money left then it takes the temptation away which is fair comment. He rarely drinks alcohol to excess, only on the odd occasion.  This is the boy who was desperate to drive since the age of 13 so his license and car are his prized possessions. He drove me home on New Year’s Eve – he can be considerate in that way. I took a good look at him tonight and I’m sure he is losing weight. And he seems to be anxious. His eyes are all over the place, he keeps looking sideways, as if he is subtly checking someone out, but there is no one there.  It’s enough that he is having to deal with stopping smoking it, plus his friends have scattered, so no wonder he is on a short fuse, and it’s understandable. I will help him as much as I can, and tell him so throughout the evening.

As the week goes on, day by day he really spirals, and anything sets him off. He gets angry, his eyes look black, and he goes into a furious frenzy several times. This comprises of physically throwing himself about, punching walls and doors, attempting to punch me, and hitting himself in the head. His body goes completely rigid, the veins in his neck stand right out they look as if they are about to burst. With very deep breathing which sounds like a growl, coupled with shouting and swearing, it is a terrible thing to observe, especially when you love your child so much. I have learned to stand back at a safe distance and observe, but always in the same room. It’s no use in talking to him, or raising my voice, as he can’t hear me. After a few minutes of chaos, he falls to the floor, a crumpled mess, exhausted, and sobs. It probably sounds weird, but when he is having an ‘episode’ as I now call them, it’s like it isn’t him. His eyes and face look different, hard and cold would be an appropriate description. But the moment he collapses, and hits the ground, the familiar face of the lad we love to bits slowly re emerges. As his tears flow, the softness returns, and he looks up at me with those huge blue eyes, he looks just like my little boy again who needs a big hug, and reassurance. The lad who, when younger, would come in with a tear stained face and grazed knee, but after a cleanup, cuddle and a plaster everything in his world was fine again, and off he would go with a smile on his face.

After an episode we often end up on the floor cuddling and crying together. Both desperate for help and needing to know when this living nightmare will end.  One evening during the week he has a spat with his brother. There was no catalyst for the behaviour. He just starts on him. He screams, swears, threatens and then chases Ethan. They crash out of the back door, and down the pathway at the side of the house. I intervene immediately to see Ethan  who is a quivering wreck huddled in the corner by the gate. He cries, and shakes, and is absolutely terrified.  He should not be witnessing this, yet he is living it too. It’s all gone too far and we need some help. I can’t sleep, and eating very little – the whole thing makes me feel sick inside. I’m really struggling at work, with life. I feel like I am not quite there, a bit removed, and terrified I will make a mistake. No one at work knows what is going on at home or anyone else in fact, and I intend to keep it that way for as long as I can.  I’m feeling very protective of my boys.  I offer my embrace, support and heaps of love. He doesn’t want to eat either – this really isn’t right. I’m pinning my hopes that things will get better, and as long as he has support he will get through this. We will get through this.