The empty room.

Thursday didn't start well.
9 am, Josh wasn't up...
I went into his room
And he had gone.

I don't know how many minutes it took before I was a crumpled, sobbing mess.

The worst visions spinning through my mind
Specifically of his freind, who had taken a similar path to Josh

Except he had been taken into hospital.
It is impossible now for me not to beleive that that experience was instrumental in the end.
About a year latter he climbed out of a window, and went to the rail tracks.

And the other voice
The one that says sensible things like,
'For goodness sake, he has every right to go out for a walk and every right to expect me to be ok about it' kept up its monologue..

As I let the panic run through me, calculating the effect of phoning people..
Asking myself who I could talk to to get me down, from this absolute panic...
In the end I phoned my husband (who didn't answer the phone because he was at work.
Then got my phone and filmed myself talking to myself.
Telling myself to just let it be...

Talking to myself, filming it, is the best way to make me be sane I've found.
something about feelings into words..

Anyway, Josh came back.
I didn't let on how awful I'd felt.
I acted as if nothing had happened - except to say, 'oh if you go to the shops, bring me back some biscuits...

So, how am I?
Obviously I'm not in a very good way..