So there is but fire In you, in me?

 Too far and too bad... And what happens then? The last time We phoned the crisis team...  'Go to A+E or phone the police'. When people talk to me, therapists I mean, they say 'he may need medication' and I've no idea what I'm supposed to do about that. I usual find myself saying 'If it were me, I'd take it!' Point being...he doesn't want to take medication. Because He believes he is beyond help... Until someone helps him over that.... And I can't see where to go or what to do to get that for him... A+E Or ThePolice? In that case It's just us. And I'm the focus of his rage... So... So, glad this house has rooms with lockable doors.

This is the last post for some time, some impossible to foresee stretching out into infinity kind of time. The endless loops of "I should have....when I was a boy" and "Yes but it is too late now, the CIA will torture me forever" have replaced "I have a brain tumor and will die within two hours". Content changes, form remains the same. Josh smoked 'Whitechapal skunk', took what ever drug anyone offered, so kind of  what do you expect  is partially how I feel. Alongside my anger and despair. Princess K (who used alongside him) was due to visit last week and husband and I made it absolutely clear that she was never setting foot in this house again... People are very kind to us, but I'm falling apart. Last week we went out on the promised trip to Glastonbury Tor, but the painfulness of the constant monologue about pedophilia and being a psychopath, Josh's total lack of social awareness...I can't remember now if I got to the stage when I ca

 It's always the sugar. The original vivid blue glazed sugar jar was smashed months ago. Since then its been a succession of jam jars. But the sugar jar gets smashed....and its never OK. The thing with 'domestic violence' is, I don't see it before it is here with me. The thing with violence is, a person who uses it doesn't see anyway to defuse the feelings before they explode. He doesn't show rage because he is fighting with himself to contain it. I assume he can contain it, since overwhelming rage is the name of his reality and most of the time it is contained... But when it bursts out, it is shocking, devastating and I really think that this time I'm going to be killed. So yeah, I'm in bits on some level - like the fragments of shattered glass, and ceramics, and a thousand grains of sugar... I lock myself into a safe room. I have my phone, the computer, my journal, car keys, glasses... I'm OK. Listening to loud music Writing it out... And as always

 Apparently images of what has gone 'beyond' remain fixed, like ghosts, on the event horizon. No one has seen this? But it is a pretty good metaphor, and I can't think of a better one. For memory... In many ways I have no idea what has happened. In theory, I was there. In theory a set of linear events unfolded one after another in a chain. Link after link, each one caused by the other. My memory is like the event horizon. What happened is gone beyond. The ghostly remains are empty... Yet mark a line between where I am, divided between functional word-smithing, and silent, dumb experiencing. Regards actuality, events marked by text messages for instance... My younger daughter thought to rescue Josh - and to that end, bought train tickets.  But younger daughter wont talk or communicate with us And after what happened at the hospital I'm not inclined to try to reach out. She is over thirty years of age, and she has the honor of being one of the few people in this world who