So there is but fire In you, in me?

 Last night's visit to see Josh in his second week of sectioning left me feeling very sad. He is a mixture of same old paranoia, full of fear about what he had said to the doctors that morning. Last time he had antipsychotic drugs they didn't get anywhere close to unlocking the self recriminations, and fear...So my fear now is, the psychiatrist will consider ECT.  He kept saying, " plan C, should have taken plan C". Plan C was, take control, decide how to get out of the fear, by deciding to use every good thing available: sensible help from the CBT therapist, help from everyone who was on his side. It involved being serious about what is wrong, instead of reacting. Easier said than done, but not if you truly know sectioning will be the consequence? What makes it so sad is the inevitability. The core of what's wrong is his imperative to be punished. That desire seems to explain most of his behavior. So yeah, I can see him doing everything in his power to keep on ma

This part of the story grows increasingly convoluted...First confusion, the person in charge of service user's ward was talking at us as we came in.  Next thing, service user is getting upset and I'm feeling it's us causing it... Next, in the quiet room there was one of those conversations where we get told how helpful it will be to accept x. And as husband pointed out later, why are they talking to us? Our confusion not helped by the scripted speech, which is full of ' they work with you' kind of statements, but no clear cut answer about what they do. And finally, the weirdest one, about the urine test testing positive when service user was brought in. So, do we have a bag of drugs hidden in our house? Is that what's underneath the madness.... Does it explain everything? Except why service user is still going on about guilt and self recrimination, and has been judged to have ' no capacity'! I need a sniffer dog! To find the bag. The bag I'm referrin

 It feels like I'm being dramatic, and selfish, and really am I not meant to be better than this? But the reality is, all I can feel is the pain. His suicide attempt, his psychosis, all of it will conclude as me...having to give up my course. It is a practical course, I'd be out of the house on placement...I don't see how that will be possible. At the moment I'm struggling through my last assignment, feeling that really...why should I bother. But ultimately, my mind doesn't work like that. I will bother, I will get it done. Ex service user is now, service user. Detained under a section 2. It's a better 'ward' somehow, probably because he is one of, or possibly the most troubled person there. Before he was too sane, and fractured straight from hospital. This time it's ok. Once the medication begins though, and he is home. Still saying the same stuff, still as convinced, but with the Parkinson's symptoms etc....I literally have no hope of finishing

Feeling sick, awful, too much...it has Been a week of awful, challenging behavior. Ex service user has three modes he cycles through. The catastrophic one, though...is too, too much. At the moment I'm full of self blame, if I hadn't been trying to getting assignment done, if I'd been able to talk to him. If I hadn't said, you must start doing positive things in the house. If it hadn't been a week of cleaning excrement off walls, and clothing...if and if and... So, the catastrophic mode, generally starts with him pulling the grill pan and swinging it, then smashing more and more things, destroying. Husband trying to stop him, phoning the police, fighting. Husband's finger in ex service user's mouth. Terror. Ex service user biting as hard as he could. I had to make him stop..me phoning the police, ex service user goes for me, let's go of husband - I'm crying, beginning to panic, man on the phone yelling,  "get out of the house, get out"! Poli

I am still in the same place as when I last wrote. A landscape without landmarks, no Land's end or land's beginning. My son's process, is a black-hole chaos drive.  His rage crackles and spits like high tension cables. I remind myself that here, there is no win and no lose. To stay sane in this place focus on what works. Turn away from the catastrophic, disconnect from fear and reconnect to compassion. Easier said than done when I’m sitting on a chair blocking my bedroom door, listening to my house being smashed up. As the police took my son into custody...I watched the adrenaline / cortisol fizz subside and sat down for the first, fear-less and quiet night I have had since august last year...My heart felt ripped to shreds, but I was clear in my own mind that this was the end. We have done all we can. As we cleared up, my husband found a kitchen knife under my son’s bed. My blood ran cold. Messages from everyone steadied me. My other son and daughter wanted ex service user