I called Steve, and explained what had happened, he was very sorry to hear it. My voice shaking down the the phone, just trying to get the words out was hard.

He said that I must not force the medication on Joshua at this stage as he could become even more hostile and volatile towards me. If he gets worse he will physically attack me, we came pretty close already. He must take it of his own free will. He is concerned for our safety, and has asked me to keep in touch. We have quite a lengthly conversation, as I try to understand what’s going on.

He thinks by the nature of the symptoms that Joshua has presented, the things he says and does, that he is a Paranoid Schizophrenic.  He knows we need more help, and is trying his best to source that help. I’m not sure what this means, but he breaks things down and tells me that Joshua will need to go to hospital – a mental health hospital. He deals with things of this nature all the time so I feel we are in safe hands. He also tells me that places are very limited for children of Joshua's age. Services are not funded very much for adolescents, it’s a ‘grey area’ and that is where we sit in the grand scheme of the NHS. There is a local unit consisting of eight beds in our county. But it is a Monday to Friday service which is no good to us. Speaking of which it is the weekend tomorrow and I usually love the Friday feeling, but I am feeling dread, and hoping that we make it through the weekend unscathed.

Friday 18^th June

Life is a constant worry. I’m not used to this tense feeling all the time. I can’t pre empt what’s going to happen with Joshua. Getting up is so hard after a restless night – I want to throw the alarm out of the window. But the six-thirty morning walk with my dog is my tiny window of respite. The boys are both sleeping, as are many of the locals, the streets are quiet, and it gives me time to think and plan, and reflect.

I was on line until late again last night. I’m trying to soak up as much information as possible – and typing ‘paranoid schizophrenia’ into the google search bar gave me pages of information. This whole thing is massive, I am doubting myself as to whether I can cope with this, as well as look after both my children, my house, my dog, and my jobs.

I think it might be time to share things. I know that I can be strong, and I will be. I’m in constant contact with Dave, and have spoken with my best friend, and my parents who are all there for us. But the work life also needs to be looked at as I spend much time there. I’m not expecting or wanting sympathy or empathy, I just need the people I see on a daily basis to know what’s going on. It’s not some dirty secret, something to be ashamed of, I am certain of that - the statistics speak for themselves. I explain to my boss and colleagues at work, and feel instantly supported. My friend who sits next to me starts to cry as she tells me how sorry she is – and I know she is genuine, as are her tears. She understands. I know I can talk to her at work now if I need to.

Joshua again has refused his medication - I'm devastated. I call over to Dave’s house to catch up – we have been supporting each other through this. We may be split, but our kids are the priority here. I’m glad I did go over as in the early evening Joshua came back and has an episode. Once again Mr Questionmark is out.

He goes wild, it is unreal to see him like this. I am starting to see a pattern emerge of the behaviour, the things he does before, during and after, but each time it is getting more severe. At one point he screams something about wanting it to stop and wanting to die. And then he runs, towards the road, with the traffic coming at speed towards him. He is rigid, and is oblivious to the danger. Both myself and Dave yell at him to come away from the road, but he doesn’t hear us, and he moves closer. It’s dangerous. Two more steps and he could be gone, wiped out in a second.

What about the innocent driver who turns the corner to be faced with a person in his path, in the middle of the road with no time to hit the brakes? We are frozen, if we move so will he, in the wrong direction. It is raining, and getting dark. The car lights appear at the sharp corner, then the cars zoom past. Wierdly it feels like slow motion, we are poised waiting for the inevitable. Suddenly he turns and still visibly very angry and marches towards me, waving his arms, shouting and swearing.

I would rather he came for me and be away from the danger of the road. I will him in my mind to come closer, hit me, slap me, anything that brings him away from the cars. He gets close, very close, then he drops, to the ground. Just slumped. It’s over, Mr Questionmark has made his exit.

Dave helps our boy up and we walk across the garden together. We sit outside for sometime in the rain, just talking. As we talk and Joshua sits in silence, I watch and see him slowly coming back to join us in reality. He starts to speak too. He is desperate to get well and says that he will start taking the tablets again, and takes one. We are relieved but also know that he could change his mind at any point.