So there is but fire In you, in me?

Frenzy has been less over recent weeks. I have difficulty remembering how it was, but I know I'm no longer wearing earplugs in the day. To save my ears from rage-full shouting and screaming at me. So...ex service user's ability to contain his rage has increased... But tonight, possibly the tv program about playing the bass guitar, and he was bass player, song writer before he left for Camberwell...anyway, the old, totally screaming mad returned. And I'd forgotten, though I hadn't, that there is a distinct smell to this degree of out of control. It reminds me of school dinners, cooked liver to be precise. It makes my blood run cold. Deep down some bit of me goes into terror when I smell it. I override the primal impulse to run...because I assume I'm feeling what he feels, and I'm not giving in, I keep my head. Nevertheless, I just don't get why there is a particular smell to it. What does that signify?

I was about to copy and paste from my essay to here,  but if I did, would I be accused of plagiarism by the dreaded 'Turnitin' bot? If that's out, I'll just have to describe what happened instead. The day of the appointment. Josh sat on the sofa. That's what happened. I locked myself in the bathroom to cry uncontrollably and write (the two have to go together, that's my recipe for sanity) . Meanwhile husband left the house to take son's appointment at the doctors, as an opportunity to say how it is. Through my tears I heard husband outside bathroom door saying, 'I can't do it'. Basically, given our philosophical view point, doing anything that shifts Josh closer to the mental health team, and sectioning, feels like contacting the Gestapo. The rational view point that he needs meds, is fine and dandy except reality is, he wont take them = sectioning. Strangely enough, he does care about that, since it haunts his present hysteria about 'being t

No apologies, I'm aware it may have worked out OK for you. I hope so. The mental health services in your town may have been wonderful; supportive, kind, attentive...able to listen. This isn't what happened to us. Sorry, no! My experience is different and, after their involvement last time, I now see this as all about the consequences of who carries the responsibility Josh is avoiding. Again and again I ask myself how can we navigate the bullying and antisocial behavior, how do we avoid being locked in a ridiculous co-dependent nightmare of continual talking, screaming and arguments. We are unable to go out, as he runs around the house screaming. Going out with him is stressful. Our experience of medication, as you may gather from my description of the effect - disconnected, drooling, add shuffling Parkinsonism...does not inspire confidence. Medication working means what exactly? Plus is a statistical possibility akin to winning the lottery. You may also take it that w