Saturday 3^rd July

The rest of the week has been calm. Joshua is gradually getting more of an appetite. He asked if he can go clothes shopping in Reading with his girlfriend. I feel in some ways that we could be putting her at risk if we let him go– what if he has an episode in the town centre? He has had some difficulty in social situations for a couple of months now,  his confidence has dropped. How will he cope amongst so many people? On the same token he has been at home for a week, and has been doing everything that he should be. So we agree to let him go just for a couple of hours, he has his phone on him. Dave drops them and they ask if they can get the train back.  The next couple of hours were a worry, but he kept in touch, and came back smiling but exhausted. I also took the opportunity to look at the ICD scale this week  - the chart is very complex, outlining the different sorts of the illness. I need to spend more time to read this.

Sunday 4^th July

It’s a gorgeous weekend so we decide to barbeque. I’m concerned for Joshua's girlfriend as this is a lot to deal with. She says she has lots of friends but not anyone that she completely confides in. She has seen so much with Joshua, and I wonder where she gets her support from after he has had a bad day.  She knows that she can talk with us at anytime, and we do, but I take the plunge and invite her mum over. We have met only briefly once.

We got on great, and spoke openly about Joshua, and the effect his illness has on others. When she went home after we had a few glasses of wine it was a relief to know that she now understands what is going on and can support her daughter fully.   It had been on my conscience for a while. I have admiration for this young girl, who at sixteen years old has constantly stood by Joshua. He is very lucky. I wonder sometimes if it could all become too much for her and she might end things. He would never be able to cope with that at this point.

Monday 5^th July

Again Joshua fancied having a go at baking a cake, which turned out really well. I think he is getting a bit bored being home all the time so we sat in the garden and talked about different places we can visit at weekends so that he has things to look forward to. I go home early evening as I am back to work tomorrow.

Dave calls me late evening to say that Joshua has had trouble settling to sleep and came downstairs upset. It seems that when we were talking earlier in the garden, the voices popped up in his head, and he is scared. I chat to him on the phone and try to reassure him that we will call Steve about this tomorrow. Understandably he is worried that the medication is no longer working for him. He was initially put on a lower dose of Aripiprozole, with a view to increasing it if need be. I know very little about this but assume that he may need an increased dosage, it’s still the very early stages of recovery, and although he is seventeen he has the body of a man. From articles I have read the medication needs to be the right dosage for the individual depending on the severity of the symptoms, it is very sensitive.

27th June cont...

So jumping back to my marriage – the lifestyle changed as did he. I have written at length my thoughts, feelings and generally how life was for the three years leading upto the end of my marriage. An affair happened, and a child was born to the other woman. It affected the children deeply. It is very personal, so I am choosing to omit these paragraphs on the blog.  Joshua must remain the focus.

Today was uneventful until the evening when on Joshua became anxious. He came to us, close to tears, and begged us not to take him back to the hospital tomorrow. We didn’t plan to anyway, and tell him so. Again we talk it through, and he knows that both Dave and myself have shifted work commitments, meetings, and life in general so that one of us will be around continually to be there for him through these early stages of recovery. At the same time it’s a two way street so he must meet us halfway and continue to take his medication, rest, and look after himself as far as eating properly, and personal hygiene. This sounds like very basic stuff, and it is, but he can’t cope with anything more just now. A day at a time. We will call both the hospital and Steve first thing tomorrow to work together on this.

Monday 28^th June

A phone call frenzy today, but much has been sorted out. The consultant at the hospital wholly agrees with the plan and has wished us well. Steve has also been very supportive and has asked us to go in for a meeting tomorrow.  Joshua continues to take his medication which is really having an effect now. He is much calmer in general, and is listening to his body and sleeping when he needs to.

He found a recipe book today and fancied the flapjack recipe topped in caramel and chocolate – he has a sweet tooth. This sounds like a very simple task, and for most of us it is. Because he has been so distracted I didn’t think he would complete the recipe, but he did. From turning the oven on, to weighing things out, and finishing it off. At one point the chocolate topping didn’t work out, and he got quite upset about it, not angry, but i think he was getting tired. So we removed it and he did it again and it was perfect.

 Tuesday 29^th June

It was back to work for me today, I came home to my place last night.  I thought of Joshua constantly and called him several times. He is still sleeping much of the day, and his night time routine is also starting to fall into place which is great news. I left work early as we had an appointment at CAMHS to meet with Steve.

Joshua talked through how he was feeling. He has been diagnosed with ‘Paranoid Schizophrenia  F20.05 in ICD 10’. He has prescribed more sleeping pills – the same ones as the hospital did - for seven days to ensure he continues to sleep well.  Steve thought that Joshua appeared more relaxed as the medication was working. He is also going to write to the local hospital and ask for an MRI scan of his head. This is to check that all is well, as he often took massive blows to his skull when having an episode.

At the supermarket afterwards, while waiting for the prescription I picked a few bits and pieces up, and had a good look at the people around me. I wondered if there was anyone else there that had similar going on in their lives as we do right now. Watching families laughing, chatting as they walk up and down the aisles made me want to scream. The world carries on as normal, no matter how much I want it to stop, just for a while so I can catch my breath. As I queue at the checkout a little boy is sat in the trolley in front of me while his dad loads the shopping onto the belt. The boy must be three years old. He cries, obviously tired, and wants everything and anything to hold as his dad is trying to pack things. His dad then puts his face close to the little boy and tells him to shut up and be quiet which makes the young boy even worse, as young children do. He again tells him to be quiet and says ‘what’s wrong with you....are you crazy?’ A simple comment, that I too would have used up until recently. I put my basket down, and walked out of the shop.

Saturday 26^th June

Joshua is so glad to be home. It’s as if he appreciates every tiny thing. His bed, his food, his possessions and his family. He slept very well last night, after being reunited with his brother and the sheer relief of being home. He also naps in the day. His girlfriend comes to visit and they chat in the garden and move sunbeds onto the lawn. He takes his medication. We speak about how things need to be, and I worry how he will react to the changes. Firstly his phone must be switched off by 9pm, so that he can begin to wind down, take his sleeping medication, and crash out. Secondly we forbid him to drive. His license and his car are his life, and he knows that he is not safe right now, or at least for a few weeks until the medication has settled in his body, and we speak to Steve.  We offer to ferry both him and his girlfriend around so that they can see each other, and he accepts that this is the way things are going to be for a while and hands his keys over.

I try to tempt him to eat something, and make things which he likes. He attempts to eat but is so tired he just wants to crash out. By 9pm the phone is handed over, and he is fast asleep in his bed.

Sunday 27^th June

It all feels quite weird all four if us being under the same roof. After being apart for three years it is strange. When I got up everyone was still asleep. But I love that time of the day, it was nice just to sit outside with a coffee while the dog had a mooch around. I look at the house, the lifestyle, of my ex. Our marriage ended nearly three years ago, I made the decision to leave. The last two years we had all been together as a family had been the worse time of my life up until now. In the peace of the morning I thought about the past and rewound to 1990.

We met when I was 20, and he was 22. Within three months we decided to live together, it felt right, we were wrapped up in each other. After a year and a half in our own place I became pregnant with Joshua. He was born on a Sunday morning in 1992. The whole experience of having him made me feel complete. When I held him for the first time, he opened his eyes, it gave me a rush of love and  happiness.

We had very little, both working in care, and struggled to make ends meet, but our little boy made our world perfect – we doted on him. We moved home when he was three, and got married. He looked adorable in his little suit and shiny shoes. Always well behaved, people often commented on his good manners.

He started school and made lots of friends. Joshua was the one that everyone wanted to have over after school for tea and playtime. He had such a caring nature and often would spend so much time making sure everyone else in the class had their pencils and books that by the time he sat down he had little time to do his own work.

 We hoped for another child, and although I fell pregnant, I miscarried three times – the first one being quite advanced into the pregnancy. I still think of those babies to this day. Feeling empty like my body had given up on me and it wasn’t to be, I was thankful that we had Joshua who was fit and healthy and a credit to us.

When I became pregnant for the last time I knew this had to be our final try. I thought if I didn’t speak about it, or get attached to the tiny child inside, that when I miscarried it wouldn’t be so hard. I was sure that things would go down the same path as before. I’d keep my thoughts and dreams inside and not share them with anyone, self preservation maybe. But I did grow, I became huge, and I did carry to term. Even in the late stages of pregnancy I felt this baby would be taken from me. I remember when I had not felt the baby kick for a short while and would poke my tummy to wake it, to get a sign that it was still alive. Once I’d had a reassuring kick then I would relax for a short time, an hour or so, then wait for the next one, and so on. This also continued throughout the night times. I refused to buy anything in case it would be bad luck.

Family and friends rallied round and came with the initial things we would need for a new baby, I couldn’t look or touch these things – I believed it wasn’t going to happen, and closed down. Until I could hold this child and see it breathing, then it would be a reality and I could keep it safe. Even in labour I panicked it could go wrong. 

Ethan was born safe and well. He looked just the same as Joshua when he was new born.  Joshua was a brilliant older brother, helping with feeding, nappy changes, my little helper. As Ethan grew he used to follow his big brother around everywhere, he absolutely doted on him, he still does.

As the boys grew Dave and I started our own business, we moved to a bigger home, and were happy. Some people call it soulmates – we did everything together – and loved it. Best friends, work mates, someone who you trusted implicitly, lovers. The years ticked by.

We sold the business as it was doing well, but was also infringing on our home life and it had become a juggling act to balance everything. As part of the business deal we had jobs with the new company. He was a manager, I did the books. With the job came more money, a comfortable lifestyle with luxurious holidays, new cars, and less stress. But it wasn’t for me. I’m sure many people would love that way of life, I preferred it when things were more simple, we often spoke about it.

 Born and raised in Reading, I lived at my Grandmothers home with my parents until I was three. A council house, at the end of a tiny cul de sac. The neighbours all knew each other well, as well as each others business. There was a muffin man, a rag and bone man - I loved horses as a child and watched intently as they came down the street. Cars were a luxury still so not every family had one. My Dad had a green Mini Traveller. It had the wooden decorative bits on the sides, I used to run my little fingers along them from the back to the front of the car. He did have a new sports car when he met mum, but when she became pregnant with me he had to trade it in so that he could get a pram in the boot. 

My parents were offered their own council house on a new estate in 1973.  My brother was born when I was four, I remember it very clearly. Coley Park was a great place to grow up. We lived on Wensley Road which went in a big loop. Houses were built along both sides of the road went round, and in the centre were three blocks of flats. They were fourteen storeys high, had about ninety flats in each, one block could see into our garden. In the Summer when Dad put up the paddling pool I would bring my friends home who lived in the flats to play. My Mum always embraced anyone who came into our home and spoilt them. Numbers never fazed her, everyone was welcome. I was a young age but felt bad they didn’t have a garden to play in. We would often make camps in the woods, cause havoc at the park, and walk to the shops and to school.

At home we were taught real values and morals, I will always thank my parents for that – it stayed with me. My dad was a painter and decorator, mum worked as a cleaner in the evenings and as a school dinner lady in the day, they were always around for us both. They saved all year for holidays – we went on a plane to Malta in the early 80’s which was unheard of amongst my peers. I started senior school in 1981, left in 1986 with a handful of CSE’s and trained to be a hairdresser, something I had wanted to do since I was eleven years old. I loved it but the pay was poor so I left after completing my training and drifted for a bit. I worked but had no direction.

A friend at the time did discos on a Sunday for a bit of extra cash at a home for disabled adults. My brother used to help him. One week they coaxed me along to help, I was so scared by them.....but intrigued. I met Dave that night, he worked there as a warden. As we packed up to leave he chatted and asked for my phone number. As he drove off home at the end of his shift, I knew I would see him again, and it went from there really.

Thursday 24th June continued....

Ethan comes into my bed, and after some time he falls asleep, it’s 1am and he has school tomorrow. At 1:30am my phone rings, it’s Joshua sounding very upset and spiralling. He is so scared, I can hear it in his voice. He is reaching out, he is so frightened of what may happen next. I have no idea how to make things better, the call ends with us both in tears, both devastated. The phone goes again at 2:30am, and it’s Dave. He describes the hospital, it sounds terrible. His voice is breaking up on the phone, he said he can’t believe he has left Joshua there. It’s a secure unit, staff everywhere, bright lights, everything locked down, personal possessions taken away, even his phone, his lifeline.  No sleep for us tonight.

Friday 25^th June

I take Ethan to school and then head straight for Dave’s house. We call the hospital just after 9am to see how Joshua was last night, and how he is managing this morning. He was in a group session and then had to see doctors for more assessments even though they did this last night on his arrival. We ask if we can come to see him today and bring some things for him. When we are told we need to book an appointment, and a meeting room to see our son, it fells horribly wrong. They ‘fit us in’ for 2pm that day. We ask that they tell Joshua we called first thing to ask how he is, and let him know we will be there this afternoon. To keep busy I go to the supermarket and buy his favourite snacks and some magazines.

As we drive to the hospital we dread what awaits us. As we pull up outside, the high walls and barbed wire look very intimidating. In the reception we hand over keys, phones, and my handbag, and the bags of things we bought for Joshua are checked for contrabanned items. It feels like a prison. The staff wear radios, carry bunches of keys. We go through several doors, each one opened with a swipe card and number combination, then through a brightly lit tunnel which feels to me like we are underground, then ushered into a room with three chairs and a small coffee table. We wait for Joshua, they go to get him.

He comes in, wearing shorts and a t-shirt, and falls to his knees, and the tears fall. In absolute turmoil he begs to be taken home. He says his things have been locked away. He has nothing. How will taking his possessions away help him? He had to ask permission to have his toothbrush. In complete turmoil we get him off the floor to sit in a chair, the whole time a warden observing us just outside the door. Dave asks for the door to be closed so that we can have a private conversation with our son, but we are told no, it is hospital policy that the door stays open. The whole feel of the place, the smells, the lights, the lockdown un nerved me.  I looked at Joshua and held his hand while he explained that he was in a ward with kids who had done things like trying to cut their arms off with breadknives, had been doing hard drugs since a young age, and that they were completely crazy. He said he knew he was ill, but not that bad. I don’t know if I wholly agree. He is bad, but not extreme, but he is far from normal. Yes he needs help, much help.  At that point I knew that the a few  of the things he needed more than anything to get better was not in this place, but those things being the love and support of his family.

Yes we were all tired, but we had made it pretty much on our own up until last night. Of course we had Steve on the end of the phone when we needed him, and surely he would support us too? After a few seconds and making the decision that we could do this, I turned to Dave and said that I would not be leaving the building without our son, and he agreed, I promised Joshua we would not leave without him. We asked to see the ward manager who came down after a few minutes. We explained that we thought there had been some error of judgement regarding Joshua’s placement, but he was having none of it. So the next step was to get the unit consultant down. He took his time, and when he arrived he asked if Joshua could be removed from the room due to the sensitive nature of the discussion. He was in the next room, with the door open, so he heard every word anyway.

Things became very heated, very quickly. At one point I thought Dave might lunge towards the two doctors. It felt as if it was all melting away after about twenty minutes, with the doctor’s saying they could section Joshua under the mental health act. We did question this, as he had not harmed anyone since his admission, or for several days prior to his admission, in fact he had been calm and had behaved very well. He had not attempted to harm himself either. For him to be sectioned he would have had to have been a danger. He had been through three assessments during his stay of roughly 15 hours, and we were within our rights as his parents and legal guardians to remove him. After this statement, things changed. Apologies were made all round for any inappropriate behaviour, that the admission should not have happened in the dead of night considering Hoshua’s mood and manner at that time. I did make the point that we all want the same end result, for Joshua to be better. Joshua then came back into the room to join the discussion.

I found the knowledge of the consultant fascinating. Once we were all striving for the same outcome it was as if we all pulled together. So as the calm set in for roughly two hours, we talked through things that needed to be put into place to assist Joshua’s recovery. We were told that the symptoms had been there for two years so recovery would be slow. It is a long time to be dealing with the symptoms before diagnosis. The consultant also likened the voices to having several mobile phone conversations all at once, and Joshua said it was the perfect explanation for how it feels.

The medication will assist in making the voices subside, and to help the medication work properly convalescence is needed. He needs to rest in the day, and complete rest every night, sleeping pills will be prescribed short term to assist him with falling back into a sleep routine at night.  If the brain is rested fully then it helps the medication to work. Stress must be removed from his life. No distractions,continual calm is needed. A good diet and physical well being are a must. Dave’s house would be perfect. He lives on a farm, which is remote with no neighbours, and quiet.

We were told that patients are usually allowed a night at home after several weeks in the hospital. Again this is for children who have been sectioned under the mental health act. The consultant said that we could take Joshua home for the weekend and return him at 10am on Monday morning. He also said that if we could put a plan into place regarding his care over the weekend then we were to call him and let him know first thing on Monday. We were given enough medication for the weekend, and also some tablets to help him sleep – Promethazine.

We knew he was telling us, in a round about way, that this place was not right for our son.

So the warden went with Joshua to collect some of his things. He was a slight guy, thinning hair, and glasses and probably looked older than his years. I could see he liked Joshua. Even though he had only been there a short time, they already had become quite chatty and friendly. When he came back we thanked him. He passed the mobile phone and cigarettes back to Joshua and they shook hands. He did say that he saw many kids come through the doors of this place, and that this wasn’t the place for Joshua to be, and that he hoped, as much as he liked him, to never see him again.

To come out of there into the car park, as dreary as the surroundings were, and into the sun was a wonderful feeling. All three of us exhausted by the last 24 hours. We kept cuddling Joshua while we put his things in the car. He told us how much he loved us, that he wants to get better, and was very humble. On the journey back we discussed the weekend ahead. Although we live in separate houses, counties even, we came to the agreement that I would up sticks, and move over to Dave’s house for the weekend. So a quick divert on the way back to collect my overnight bag and the dog, and collect Ethan from my friend who had kindly looked after him when school had ended.

Monday 21^st June

He took his tablet which was a relief, this was the forth in a row. I’m quietly proud he is trying so hard. Today was quiet. He did not have an episode so this is the third consecutive day. I wonder if although he only took a couple of tablets last week, and then had a break for a couple of days, whether it is starting to actually have an effect.

He says the voices are still there, but they are more subdued. We have a busy week ahead as it is also Ethan’s Birthday on Wednesday. I spoke with Steve today and explained what happened on Friday night, but also on the plus side the medication is being taken. He is looking for a bed for Joshua in a unit. The thought of him going somewhere without his family, with a group of strangers nags away at me, I have no idea what to expect. But Steve knows we are all exhausted.

Strange as it may sound, although life has been quiet, I feel as if we are in the calm before the next storm, and that at any minute things will snap and change.

Tuesday 22^nd June

We received a letter from CAMHS outlining the meeting on Tuesday. It seemed very harsh seeing the words on the page detailing Joshua's behaviour and symptoms.

Wednesday 23^rd June

It’s Ethan’s 11^th Birthday. We all get up early so that we can watch him open his presents and cards. Joshua has bought him some lovely clothes and a pair of very bright trainers. Ethan is completley made up with his brother’s choice.

I watch the boys, all smiles and banter, and don’t want this moment of real family life to ever end. Joshua once again takes his tablet, and no episodes, although he is still very tired looking. We all go out for an early dinner with the birthday boy.

Thursday 24^th June

As the calm remains I know the medication is working. It’s a relief. He says his head is much quieter now and seems to be sleeping for longer without interruptions. We spent a quiet evening at home and Joshua came home with his girlfriend. It felt very relaxed in comparison to a week ago. So off we go to bed. Then the phone rings just after 11pm.

It’s the hospital, they have a place for Joshua. At this hour? I’m told by the person in charge that we must bring Joshua straight away which feels really wrong. They have also called Dave and been quite forceful around getting Joshua there.

I ask if it is necessary to bring him now, can this not wait until the morning? He has been taking his medication, and has gone to bed, he is asleep. I was then asked ‘how seriously ill is your son?’ I can’t believe he just said that. Try life in our boots for while.

I explain that yes, he is ill, but he is in bed asleep. I’m informed that they have bought in extra staff for the night duty and Joshua must go, now. The reality kicks in, by this time Ethan is sat up wide awake after hearing the conversation.

I go to call Joshua, tap on his door, and he is there, huddled in his bed, in a complete slumber, and I feel so guilty knowing I have to wake him, and pack him off to the unknown. He wakes quickly, not by me calling him, but I sob at his bedside, my tears fall, I ache inside, it hurts so much.
We hug and he goes off to fetch the suitcase and starts to put things in. His favourite clothes, his toiletries, some money. He is crying too, but grabs me and tells me that he needs to do this. He wants to get better, he wants to change. After all he is going in on voluntary basis so what can happen? The roles are reversed and he is the parent, busying himself, and telling us it will all be ok. What a brave young man.

Dave turned up and steps inside for a minute, he is taking Joshua. I go upstairs to find my two boys on my bed, both crying, and holding each other. Ethan is beside himself and Joshua is trying to console him. Downstairs we say goodbye, I promise we will see him tomorrow, and then he is gone.

Saturday 19^th June

I came downstairs this morning to see the writing pad on the side. Joshua quite often sits with a pad a pencil on an evening and scribbles, doodles and draws. He always loved art, or anything that he could be creative.

As I sip the first coffee of the day I decide to make my list of things to do but get easily distracted as I leaf through the pages, some of the notes make me smile....the odd shopping list that I scribbled, then went to the shops and left behind, phone numbers, reminders, the kids writing. Then some drawings. Three pages of drawings.  Joshua's drawings.

The first is a face which doesn’t look very friendly and quite ugly. An agigtated looking face with a flash of blonde hair - this one is titled ‘Alfie’. The second one is also a face, which again is drawn in a similar way with angry features and red hair -  this one is ‘Donny’. The way in which they are drawn feels very rushed, the pencils have been pushed hard on the page, with some force. On the next page is a circle split into three parts with some handwriting either side, which at first is hard to decipher, and in the middle of the page is a huge question mark. Then the penny drops like a bomb. It’s them. The ones in his head.

There they are, looking at me, staring at me from the page. I feel disgusted by them. I want to be physically sick. After a few seconds I realise that the last drawing is showing what is going on in his head. It’s a bird’s eye view. The three way split he talks of. The words either side now make sense and spell ‘left’ and ‘right’. I slam the pad shut, and throw it in a drawer -  I didn’t want to look at them anymore. They now feel real to me, I now know how they look, the things they say, the things they do. They start to haunt me.

Joshua was tired today, probably after last nights events. His girlfriend visited, I have tried to explain things to her but it is very difficult. They have been together for ten months which is a long time in their eyes. He did take his medication though which was a start. He is eating very little, and looks like he is fading away.  

Sunday 20^th June

Today he is anxious again, very much so, but he did take his tablet. I now understand the term ‘living on a knife edge’. I know any moment he can switch over to the bad guy. Music is my thing, I never really cared for television. I have a song that I listen to every day. Probably fifteen times a day. Both Ethan and I know the words off by heart. It’s called Watercolour, by Pendulum. It makes us think of Joshua. It’s our perception of how he might be feeling. 

To me the lyrics at the beginning paint the picture of Joshua as his calm, rational self, and then the next part is when the terror takes over as the episode unfolds, and near the end it says ‘just stay where you are, let your fears subside, just stay where you are, there’s nothing to hide’ – which makes me think of the moments when I hold him and calm him afterwards.

Here are the lyrics:

When I'm falling down
Will you pick me up again?
When I'm too far gone
Dead in the eyes of my friends

Will you take me out of here?
When I'm staring down the barrel
When I'm blinded by the lights
When I can not see your face
Take me out of of here [x4]

All I believe and all I've known
Are being taken from me back at home
Yeah do your worst, when worlds collide
Let their fear collapse, bring no surprise

Take me out of here

Feed the fire
Break your vision
Throw your fists up
Come on with me
[4x]

Just stay where you are
Let your fear subside
Just stay where you are, there's nothing to hide

Feed the fire
Break your vision
Throw your fists up
Come on with me

It is a very powerful song, very emotional for us. We asked Joshua to listen to it with us. Funnily enough he likes it to. It’s our song.

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.

Wednesday 16^th    June

I stayed up late on the computer last night to have a good look through the effects the tablets may have and what they do. I did read through the leaflet which came in the box, but being a curious creature I wanted to know more. It seems that it may take upto seven days to build up in the brain. There are lots of case studies, family stories, and facts and figures out there about the drug and most make positive reading. It works well for some, others move onto a different drug, but there are many options. Suddenly I don’t feel so alone anymore. I felt a tiny spark of hope.

The medication is called Aripiprazole, an anti psychotic, which sounds very extreme, but in blunt terms it corrects the chemical imbalance in the brain and thus makes the voices go away. Joshua takes his tablet again although he is still withdrawn. I think he is hoping that there will be instant quiet, so I try to explain that it may take a few days to start to work, that we must hang on in there. An article I read last night also stuck in my mind regarding young men and the medication which I keep thinking about.

It said that the trick is to make sure the medication is taken every day. Often young men may take it for a short while, feel they are symptom free when in fact it is the medication which makes them feel that way. They wake up one morning and feel great, then decide not to take it any more. Within a few days the levels drop in their systems and they go back to how they were before. They relapse to their old angry, upset, volatile self. It frequently happens, and then they are often taken to hospital until the medication is back in the system, and things calm down. So I must nag him to make sure he takes it.

Thursday 17^th June

Joshua isn’t working anymore, he just can’t cope. He says his head is really noisy. They keep him awake at night when he needs to sleep. It must be so frustrating. They get louder when he is on his own, it gets unbearable while he does even simple tasks like taking a shower. In the day time it all catches up and he ends up napping, so the sleep pattern has also gone horribly wrong which makes things even worse for him.

He told me the voices goad him to hurt Ethan and me which makes me really uncomfortable. I packed all the sharp things away. I sobbed as I did it as I never thought I would feel so threatened in my own home, but I do, incredibly so. It is affecting us quite deeply already. I worry for Ethan. He has seen and heard so much over the last few weeks but every day he still pulls himself out of bed, gets ready and goes to school. On his return home he religiously does his homework, has his tea, and then goes off on his bike with his friends.

Joshua came home earlier and looked completely dark in his face. I could see he was about to spiral. He got nasty, he refused his tablet as he said they are doing nothing, I couldn’t get him to understand it will take time, he wouldn’t listen, very irrational. He punched the kitchen floor and made his knuckles bleed, he slammed his head several times against the door, then punched himself hard many times in the head. It was with such force, the sound of the thud as it made contact made me feel sick inside. He lunged at me a couple of times, he is much bigger than me at six foot tall, and very strong, and although it may have looked to an outsider like I was standing up to him, being tough even, in fact I was welded to the spot in absolute fear. Scared of him, scared of them.

We went nose to nose, the look in his eyes I will never forget. Wide eyed, but full of hate, real nasty, vile, hate and growling through clenched teeth. And then in a second, as quick as it started, it stopped. He dropped like a dead weight to the floor in the hallway. From a rigid dark, angry form, to a slumped wimpering mess huddled in the corner. He sobbed. His words all jumbled, he apologised as best he could. He explained that me, his mum, make the voices mad, they dislike me, they know what I am doing, and if he listens to me and takes the medication, they will release Mr Questionmark and he will kill me.

Terrified, he is caught between two worlds. Our reality and another which is not real, but to him it is, and it’s taking him over, consuming him rapidly.  The thought that he may hurt me, or worse, has forced him to make the choice to stop his tablets.  I sat with him for some time, and just held him really. I didn’t know what to say to make it all better. There were no words. He is trying to protect me from them.

Tuesday 15^th June

We went to CAMHS today at 3:30pm and met Dr Steve Forrest. He is a tall man, greying, with a friendly face and disposition. He is a psychiatrist. It all felt very surreal though. It reminded me of when you sit in the comfort of your own home all relaxed watching a fly on the wall documentary, and you end up being open mouthed, and shaking your head in disbelief, and think to yourself how some people must struggle. I always end up feeling bad for them, those people on the tv, and often think about it the next day, or speak about it at work.

And now it feels like it’s us - that we are the subject, the camera is focused on us.  Once again Joshua was given the option to go in on his own as some of the stuff discussed would be sensitive. He said that he wanted me to hear it all, and he wanted me with him, that he had nothing to hide.  I’m glad I went in with him – the appointment lasted just over 2 hours.

It felt a bit disjointed at first as Steve had to start up his laptop and was typing notes as we went through the introductions. But after ten minutes or so, it was ok. Joshua explained, very clearly and bravely, his symptoms, as he had done on Sunday at the hospital and in return Steve took everything on board, and asked lots of detailed questions. I was also asked about Joshua's history, going right back to my pregnancy, the birth, development both physical and mental, family, friendships, school, relationships, all up until the present time. It was quite a journey I must admit.

Joshua spoke of his huge regret of smoking cannabis, his secret lifestyle that happened at the weekends to begin with, then as the voices became more prominent he smoked it most days, until he was discovered. He feels that is the reason why he is as he is now.  I wonder if smoking that that made him this way? Is it really that potent to cause this? And why are none of his friends suffering the same symptoms? I’m not so sure but sit and listen as he seems to relax and completely opens up. He tells us that he smokes it to get his head back to himself, just for a few hours, when he smokes it the voices go away, if only for a short while, the voices subside, it goes quiet – respite from it all.

Steve called it ‘self medication’ which seemed a very fitting description. He also speaks about things that I know nothing of. I know he has been involved in the odd scuffle or fight as boys do, and to my knowledge had always told me afterwards. Or so I thought. What he didn’t tell me is that sometimes he just got so angry, over something quite trivial, and would literally lose it, then physically take his frustrations out on someone. Unable to stop hitting, punching, and although the other person would retaliate they were often no match for Joshua and Mr Questionmark.

I can’t begin to imagine how he must feel, to be sharing his mind, his thoughts and his everyday life with this, with them. After making what seemed to be the adult decision to stop smoking it he now has this to deal with. We speak about medication, what it can do to help, and are given a chart showing a breakdown and comparison of the different sorts available, and talked through it, including the possible side effects. Steve explains as best he can what he thinks is going on in Joshua's head, in terms he thinks we might both understand -  mixed messages between brain transmitters and receptors.....auditory hallucinations.....chemical imbalance.

He is prescribed Aripriprizole, 10mg per day and we book another meeting with Steve to see how things are progressing in two weeks time.  If we need advice or help in the interim then we must call CAMHS and leave a message for him and he will get back to us as soon as possible. He also passes me a number which can be called at weekends.

He says I need to ‘proof’ my house. I must have very little medication at home, cleaning agents such as bleach and toilet cleaners must be hidden or thrown away. And knives, scissors, tools, and anything sharp which could be used as a weapon must be put away. He explained that when Joshua has an episode subconciously he will know where everything is at home as it’s all familiar, and he may grab for these things and hurt himself or others with them. He also says that Ethan and myself are at high risk until at least the medication starts to work, which could be a week or more. He has targeted us before and there is every chance he will do it again. I must be vigilant at all times.

We stand to leave, and Steve shakes our hands and wishes us well. I look him straight in the eye and  thank him for his time. I know he sees my pain and desperation. I’m so grateful that we ended up with this guy today.

Joshua says thank you too, and then starts to cry. He tells Steve that he is so happy that someone believes him, that he thought everyone would dismiss him and think he is mad. And Steve filled up too! We stop at the pharmacy and collect the medication. He takes his first one straight away.

 As I listen, I can’t believe he has been dealing with this for so long, alone. At 6pm, after an 8 hour wait the psychiatrist comes. Joshua wants me to go in with him. She seems very young, apologises for keeping us waiting, then asks what happened.  He tells her everything while I sit, watch, listen and hold his hand. All the details come out.

Two voices, either side of his head. They chat amongst themselves, and also to him. They speak in rhyme, or rap, and it’s fast. When they talk to him it’s all rather derogatory, putting him down, and making him feel worthless, useless. He likened it to a conversation overheard in the next room. The door is closed but he can hear them albeit a bit muffled. The two voices are scared of the third ‘being’.

Number three is the important one, he lives in the middle of his head, between the other two, pretty much on the crown of his head as he pointed out. He is the one that completely takes over. He can control Joshua's body movements, actions. He can see himself drinking and stuffing tablets, but he has no control, as if he is removed from his own body, it sounded like a so called out of body experience. So we are told about Number three, or as Joshua now calls him Mr Questionmark. He says that as he feels himself getting more and more anxious and paranoid when the two voices are getting louder and clearer. They take over his head, and invade his thoughts. As this progresses they are not so much behind a door, it’s as if they are behind a sheet of glass. He knows as they get louder, the pane of glass is getting thinner day by day, hour by hour, until it gets paper thin and about to shatter -  then he knows they are about to release Mr Questionmark.

He said it’s like the two voices either side are like zoo keepers. Mr Questionmark is the caged wild animal. The zoo keepers hold the key to open the cage, and when they do, and he is set free, his aim is to hurt and ultimately destroy Joshua, and anyone else in his path who tries to stop him.

 I’m a mixture of being stunned, but also proud that he said this to a complete stranger. The psychiatrist is taking it all in, making notes, and asking many questions. She asks if we have been to our GP. So I tell her that yes we did, some months ago, but was fobbed off with anti depressants. She asks if we have heard of CAMHS. Its the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service, and we should have been referred there by the GP.  She starts to put things in place, makes a few calls and assured us we will get help. We should get a call tomorrow. He is shattered and needs to sleep. We went home. This is all very hard to comprehend.

Monday 14^th June

We are all exhausted today. Not so much the physical aspect, but mental I think. Brain is constantly whirring away, thinking about the conversations yesterday. I do feel we turned a corner though, and I’m hoping this is the start of getting things heading in the right direction. I’m sat on my phone all day waiting for CAMHS to call. This is who we should have been referred to several months ago by the GP when Joshua was feeling very down. It’s frustrating to think that much of this may not of happened, or even gone this far if there had been intervention some months ago. I don’t understand why we were not listened to, taken seriously. I think of the very few times that the children have been to the doctors over the years there has always been a valid reason. The hours slowly passed and we heard nothing from CAMHS so Dave started chasing them in the afternoon. Joshua got irritable as the day went on he felt that he laid his feelings bare yesterday which was really a big step, and now they have forgotten him. To be honest I feel the same too. It transpires there has been a paperwork mix up, so everything could be held up. Finally, late in the day we had a call to say that an appointment has been made to see a Dr Steve Forrest the Psychiatrist tomorrow at 3:30pm. Joshua continues to be up and down, he is strained and losing weight, he looks exhausted by it all.

No major upset or episodes of anger today, but I know he is very fragile. I'm scared.

He said he has voices in his head, they have been there for sometime now. That it started roughly 2 years ago. He was with a group of friends at the local park one evening, just a social gathering as kids do, and they all decided to smoke some cannabis. So they did, he did. As he walked home to his Dad’s house that night, probably still under the influence, he thought there were people walking a short distance behind him as he heard them chattering. He turned to look and no one was there. The voices continued to whisper, and after getting home, he realised the voices were in his head. The detail in which he speaks astounded me. He said the voices have names – identities. It’s too much to take in. Too much information all at once.

 As I listen, I can’t believe he has been dealing with this for so long, alone. At 6pm, after an 8 hour wait the psychiatrist comes. Joshua wants me to go in with him. She seems very young, apologises for keeping us waiting, then asks what happened.  He tells her everything while I sit, watch, listen and hold his hand. All the details come out. Two voices, either side of his head. They chat amongst themselves, and also to him. They speak in rhyme, or rap, and it’s fast. When they talk to him it’s all rather derogatory, putting him down, and making him feel worthless, useless. He likened it to a conversation overheard in the next room. The door is closed but he can hear them albeit a bit muffled. The two voices are scared of the third ‘being’.

Number three is the important one, he lives in the middle of his head, between the other two, pretty much on the crown of his head as he pointed out. He is the one that completely takes over. He can control Joshua's body movements, actions. He can see himself drinking and stuffing tablets, but he has no control, as if he is removed from his own body, it sounded like a so called out of body experience. So we are told about Number three, or as Joshua now calls him Mr Questionmark. He says that as he feels himself getting more and more anxious and paranoid when the two voices are getting louder and clearer. They take over his head, and invade his thoughts. As this progresses they are not so much behind a door, it’s as if they are behind a sheet of glass. He knows as they get louder, the pane of glass is getting thinner day by day, hour by hour, until it gets paper thin and about to shatter -  then he knows they are about to release Mr Questionmark. He said it’s like the two voices either side are like zoo keepers. Mr Questionmark is the caged wild animal. The zoo keepers hold the key to open the cage, and when they do, and he is set free, his aim is to hurt and ultimately destroy Joshua, and anyone else in his path who tries to stop him.

 I’m a mixture of being stunned, but also proud that he said this to a complete stranger. The psychiatrist is taking it all in, making notes, and asking many questions. She asks if we have been to our GP. So I tell her that yes we did, some months ago, but was fobbed off with anti depressants. She asks if we have heard of CAMHS. Its the Child and Adolescent Mental Health Service, and we should have been referred there by the GP.  She starts to put things in place, makes a few calls and assured us we will get help. We should get a call tomorrow. He is shattered and needs to sleep. We went home. This is all very hard to comprehend.

Sunday June 13^th 2010

I felt really anxious going to the hospital today as I had no idea what I was walking into, he could be calm and tired, he could be up tight and heading for an episode. Joshua was in a side room on his own, and calm. They bought us tea when I got there, the nurse was lovely, and also a tuna sandwich for Joshua. The psychiatrist was due to turn up at 10.  At 11am he still hadn’t turned up. This was feeling like déjà vu from two weeks prior especially when they move him onto the Clinical Decision Unit.

The ward was full of some right old characters. The guy opposite must have been seventy years old. He was walking round in his underwear which wasn’t a pretty sight. He came over and told us that he had fallen off a ladder whilst doing DIY. He had huge bruises on his back and legs but was very cheerful. I imagined his wife telling him ‘left a bit, a bit more’ and him trying to please, and then falling down. I think she rang him, he had to go to the nurses station to take the call. The whole ward heard the conversation! He did stumble over to our corner and ask Joshua why he was here. He fobbed him off with a ‘I drank too much last night’ story. I welled up with tears, and tried to be polite, but I think he knew there was more to it. He wished us well, he was glad to be going home, and shuffled back to his bed.

I kept crying.  I didn’t mean to, it just happened, I couldn’t control it. It made Joshua feel bad but the more I tried to hold it back the more tears rolled out. I desperately want to know what is going on. Joshua goes from being calm one minute, to getting annoyed, to becoming literally a monster. We break the day up by taking a stroll to get some food in the hospital shop. I will do anything to take his mind off the waiting, and keep him here. After eating and returning to the ward it’s past 3pm and still no sign of the psychiatrist. Every time we ask they say it won’t be long and it was wearing us down. At one point he got so angry and agitated about waiting he ripped off his hospital bracelets and ran off, just disappeared. The nurses closed in on me, they came from nowhere and said he will be taken under the mental health act if I didn’t bring him back, and they will call security. That was very scary, and also made me feel even more protective. I found him outside, near where the ambulances pull in. He was sat on a rock, part of a decorative feature, looking so alone. I explained what the nurses had said and that he needed to come back inside – which made him angry again. He was seething. People were walking past going to and from the hospital, just minding their own business, but I could see them crossing the road, or taking a swift divert to avoid us. Eventually he calmed down so we went back to the ward. I’m not sure for how much longer I could hold it together. It’s been a rollercoaster day.

 I need to know more around how he feels and while we are holed up here I will seize the opportunity ask him. So I press him slowly, over the course of 4 hours or more, it was very hard work. He looks like he is about to say something several times, purses his lips, then he stops, looks at me, says it doesn’t matter, and goes quiet. I assure him it matters very much, and that he needs to tell me, of all people. We go round and round in the same circles, getting nowhere.

Then he finally spilt the beans. He confided in me. At last a break through. Though I was not prepared for what he was about to tell me. It was one of those conversations you never will forget. He spoke frankly and quickly, maybe he was thinking if he said it fast then it wouldn’t sound so bad.

The next two weeks are pretty much a blur, I’m on my own at work for the first week as my colleagues are on holiday. It’s a blessing in some ways as I can pace myself - check then re check my work. With broken sleep, awake at all hours, I’m so worried I will mess up. There is no need for me to make polite conversation, or swivel my chair round to chat while I eat, in fact I don’t want to eat. My stomach is continually in a huge knot, and my hands have started to tremor, which worries me – it must be nerves. I think I might have had a panic attack too – I had a moment where everything seemed too much. I came over light headed, my chest went tight, and I gasped for breath. It was frightening. Every time my phone rings I absolutely dread what the call will be about. Just the constant worrying where Joshua is, who he is with, what he is doing. He is working for his Dad, but is struggling. His focus has slipped, and although he goes to bed at a decent time, I often wake in the early hours to hear him up and about. He paces up and down, his face contorted into a mixture of anger and frustration. When I hear him moving I get up and ask if he is ok. He says he feels he is going mad. I try my best every night to open the doors to a conversation, so he can express his thoughts and feelings. It has never been a problem before, we have always been close, but here he is, slowly closing down, and I feel powerless. Can stopping smoking cannabis really have this effect? – it just feels so – extreme. When he pulls up on the driveway on an evening, I never know what to expect. Will it be Joshua Grizzly Bear, or Joshua Teddy Bear? Even the Teddy Bear often turns into the Grizzly Bear. I don’t know him anymore.

Saturday, June 12th 2010

I was at the ice rink with Dave, watching Ethan skate. He is very proud of his achievements, and rightly so. To digress just for a moment, I took Ethan on a rainy day some two years ago to the local ice rink for something to do, as you do. He held on to the rails and dragged himself around, but completely loved it. Anyway, we went back more and more, and within a short space of time he was skating really well. He just looked so comfortable on the ice. He made new friends and it became a regular thing. He aspired to be an ice hockey player, he would go on youtube and watch film clips of matches, or players moves. In April I emailed the ice hockey coach and asked what we needed to do for Ethan to join. He was offered a trial. We went, and as I sat and watched the other hopefuls try and be turned away, I felt it difficult to watch when it was Ethan’s turn. Completly nerve free he sailed through and was offered a place to train with the wannabees. He was so made up. And so, every Monday he learned and I watched. He soon became aware of things he needed to brush up on, and as training time was limited, the social skating sessions soon became a time when he could practise his moves as well as catch up with his friends. Saturday evenings were often sacrificed so that he could get on the ice and do his thing. So this evening both Dave and myself had gone to watch Ethan. He had not been on the ice for more than ten minutes when my phone rang, and Joshua called in hysterics.

He said he had done it again, and he is sorry. He was absolutely distraught on the phone. It was difficult at first to piece the conversation together. He said there were empty blisters and bottles of tablets on the worktop, along with empty bottles of spirits. That he knew he took them, he saw himself take them, but didn’t mean to. Dave left straight away and dashed to him, I followed shortly afterwards with Ethan. He was taken to the Hospital in Camberley. I took Ethan to Dave’s house to camp out and wait for news. Dave got back at 1am. As I said before I just felt this would happen again, but nothing prepares you for it. The emotions take over, the tears fall, and still no answers. Joshua is poorly after taking lots of tablets mixed with Vodka and Whisky. He had to drink a charcoal mixture which I think is the norm. Again I’m beat by it all, he never usually drinks, why was he so desperate to end his life? I really don’t understand. He is exhausted, in hospital, and crashed out. I know he is in the best hands, and try as best I can to explain to Ethan even though I have no answers myself. Pretty much a sleepless night again, it haunts me – this now feels big, enormous. He wants to self destruct, to throw the towel in. What if he does it again and succeeds?

Monday, May 31^st 2010.

I was back at the hospital with Joshua this morning. When I arrived on the ward and found his bed it was empty as he was in with the Psychiatrist, he is seventeen, should I be with him? I didn’t sleep – wide awake in the early hours, beating myself up all night as to why he took such drastic action. He has a good life, he works, he has a car, a girlfriend, and of course his family who all love him to bits. As much as I try to find answers, nothing adds up. He came back to the ward, said hello, and then slumped on the bed looking so sad, and totally tired and beaten by it all. The Psychiatrist introduced herself and then proceeded to tell me that she had a good chat with Joshua and she feels he needs a hobby to keep him busy – is she for real? I thought I heard wrongly so asked her to repeat herself – no, I heard her right the first time. I questioned her but she really didn’t want to engage in conversation. I’m far from happy. So, if you drink bleach and swallow handfuls of tablets you need a hobby to take your mind off things? I don’t think so. His ID labels were cut off, his few belongings dumped into a bag, and we are pushed out to make room for the next person.

 It’s a Bank Holiday, the sun has made an appearance, but our smiles faded some weeks ago.  I feel the psychiatrist wants to be able to tick us off her ‘to do’ list so that she can go home. I know deep in my heart last night’s events will happen again, as we have no answers as to what triggered it, what is eating him up so badly, and there is no plan going forward. Whether it’s a cry for help or something else I don’t know, but it’s extreme. It will happen again, of that I am sure. Joshua is withdrawn and looking poorly, surely anyone can see that? How could they let him come home? He doesn’t want to talk – he is exhausted, so he goes to his dad’s house, he just wants to sleep. I take Ethan to my parents’ house as we planned some time ago to visit for lunch then onto a Summer Fete.  I tell them of last night’s events, of how life has been – they are supportive, but shocked. I don’t think they know what to say.

Sunday, May 30^th 2010

Joshua came home about 6pm. As he came to the door I could see through the window he was upset. It happens a lot now – and it’s becoming very difficult to cope with. He went straight to the kitchen; I assumed he was getting a drink. I went up to the bathroom and came back down to hear him rattling round in the drawers and cupboards. I went out there to see what he was looking for, and what I saw made me numb inside. My baby was shovelling handfuls of tablets into his mouth and washing them down with toilet bleach. He was retching between swallows. He wants to end his life, and tells me so. Panic stricken, I didn’t know what to do. I tried to take the pills out of his hands, but he grabbed them straight back and shoved me away. He is so much bigger than me; I felt we were going to end up in a fist fight, slapping and snatching. He ran upstairs and shut himself in the bathroom bolting the door, crying, screaming.  I felt powerless and very scared. I could hear him drinking more bleach the other side of the door. I called Dave, who came shortly afterwards with Ethan. Dave dialled 999 and tried to coax Josh out.  

I opened the front door and waited on the step, hoping and praying that the ambulance would turn into the street. The neighbours curtains twitching, they were wondering what was going on. We are the last house in the road. They must be curious, but I felt them watching and waiting.  I turned to see Ethan stood at the foot of the stairs not saying a word, he knew what was happening. He is a 10 year old child, how do we explain this? Tears brimming in his huge eyes, then spilling out and rolling down his face, but unable to speak, his eyes said it all.  I will never forget that, it’s imprinted in my head. The sirens were getting closer and I hoped they were for us. The Police and Paramedics duly turned up.  Due to the circumstances expressed in the emergency phone call, the volatile nature, the recent history, the Police had to be present as the Paramedics do not wear stab vests or any protection. That felt harsh. They took us to the Hospital in Reading.

After a long wait we saw a doctor, they put Joshua on the Clinical Decision Unit. Some of the tablets he took can induce an irregular heartbeat, or worse still a heart attack. Among the mixture he took were ibuprofen, cold remedies, painkillers and anti depressants prescribed by the GP 6 months before. At that point he had become quite down which was unlike him, and although we felt the GP didn’t take our concerns seriously, he wrote a prescription for anti depressant pills. He took them for a day or two, but as there was no immediate effect, these things take time to get into the system; he decided that tablets were not for him and put them away.  He was wired up to machinery, and being monitored all night. We left the hospital after midnight exhausted, as he was ready for sleep, hoping, praying even, that they get him well.

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.

 All afternoon I re live the conversations we had in the past. My so called ‘sermons’ which although were admittedly done in quite a laid back fashion, were truthful and to the point, to sow the seeds of danger in his head. I remembered the time a few months before when he came home with red eyes, which made me feel anxious, and I grilled him. I was certain he had taken something, but he denied it.  In all honesty I didn’t believe him.  The eyes were not Josh’s, he couldn’t look at me directly that night, and he was, just, different.  I knew, but didn’t want to believe it. Buried my head in the sand I suppose plus I didn’t want to push him into a corner, as I was insure of how he might react if he was under the influence. It hurt. I expressed my dismay, and disgust, and went off up to bed. I felt he had the upper hand that night, and when I went upstairs, I wanted him to leave.  

He eventually turned up in the evening, it felt like I had been waiting, stewing, for an age. I always believe a straight question deserves a straight answer and I have it out with him, blunt and to the point. He throws in the odd lie, but the evidence is real, I know him too well. His mannerisms, his faulty speech – he is guilty as charged. How could he do this? He has been bought up to know the dangers.  I want to shake him – I’m far from a violent person, in fact I’m known for being relaxed and laid back, but I can’t believe he has done this. He apologises, but it washes over me. He won’t give it up. He gets up and goes to his car drives off. He knows I know.  I assume he is going to hide at his dads for a few days.

A week or so later after no contact, another sign of his guilt, he comes to tell me that he has stopped smoking cannabis....he just turned up like any other day and randomly said that. I feel fairly flat still about the whole thing, and have spent much time both day and night thinking about it. I tell him that he can say what he likes but if he sneaks off to smoke it behind everyone’s back then he is only lying to himself.  Similar as I did when I packed up cigarettes – then started again on the quiet...hiding outside for a quick puff and thinking that no one knew. I honestly don’t know if he has the willpower to stop. It’s only been a few days and its Friday tomorrow, so he gets paid and usually goes out.  At least now I know where his money has been going, he never has anything to show for it. He says he doesn’t want that lifestyle anymore. That he needs to make changes. That he needs to be a better role model for his brother, that he wants me to be proud of him. It the most sensible thing he has said in a long time – but I’m feeling that maybe he is telling me what he thinks I long to hear, I so hope he can so this. I want to save him, wrap him up and protect him, but I can’t.

Sometime in April 2010.....

I’m at home, a day off, and decide to pull my house apart to clean and tidy. I love my little home. It’s a glorious day, bright and sunny. Work has been manic of late so things have slipped at home a little. To try and paint a picture, I work four days a week in an office, I have a cleaning job, plus I do some other office work on a Monday. It suits me right now. I’m a single mum to two boys, and although the youngest, Ethan, is ten, my hours mean I can drop him off and pick him up from school every day.  I soon whizz round and get things done, the last of my chores is to put the washing away. The pile of odd socks is growing rapidly and resembles a mountain, so while I’m in the mood I decide to have a go at pairing them up. I find a matching pair, one in the mountain and one in Joshua's, my eldest sons, underwear box in his wardrobe.  I put them together, but can feel there is something inside the one from the box. I unravel it wondering what is inside, to find a bag, a tiny clear plastic one, about two inches square, with flaky stuff inside. My stomach churns; my instinct tells me what it is. I know its drugs of some sort and am stunned, which quickly turns into a mix of frustration and anger.

He is only seventeen. How dare he? I Google it, I Google everything – go to images, and to my disbelief it’s cannabis. Not only has he been stupid and naive enough to have it even smoke it. He has been disrespectful to bring it into our home, and then hide it in the room he shares with his younger brother. The music I was listening to while doing my chores abruptly goes off, I’m simmering, seething. Determined to have this out with him face to face, I don’t allow myself to text or call him – I will think about this, and wait. I do call Dave though, as he is the boys Dad. He is understandably upset and angry too, but I need to deal with Joshua, my way.

Foreward

Let’s start with a statement:

‘I see many people who’s lives are ravaged and ruined by mental illness. Sadly there are always one or two cases a year which are very extreme; your son is one of those extreme cases’

For the people who live with this illness every day, and its devastating effects, this book is for you and your loved ones, the people who are close to you and care so much for you. 

Research states that 1 in every 100 people on this planet live with Paranoid Schizophrenia. I am sure there are many more yet to be diagnosed, some may never be. I think about those poor souls frequently. It’s a large number when coupled with the ripple effect - the potential number of people affected must be huge - the parents, siblings, husbands, wives, and friends. Add to that all of the professional staff that can be involved, the doctors, the paramedics, the psychiatrists, and the police even, and the numbers are massive.

Prior to my son’s diagnosis I knew very little about Paranoid Schizophrenia, but as the weeks and months passed I have learned more, and have become fascinated by it.  I can also see why in so many ways the illness is brushed aside in society, mainly through little or no knowledge, low tolerance, and very little acceptance. You can see a broken arm or leg, and it can be fixed quickly, this is completely different.

My diary was originally written for my son to read about his behaviour, for the times he slips in his recovery and considers stopping his medication - a frank journal so he could read of the consequences, both for himself and others. As time rolled on I have expanded on my thoughts and added memories, some relate to my upbringing, my failed marriage, and life in general, some serious anecdotes, some humorous, but all true.

It has been quite a journey, and will continue to be for some time.