It was hard to believe what had to happened to our family, the degeneration of our daughter.

Every waking hour, I carried the burden of truth, my daughter was an alcoholic; my daughter put herself at risk. Every night I dreamt of  her as a child, before alcohol claimed her. Many nights I was between sleep and being awake. Anxiety bubbled in me, would not let me rest. I would get out of bed, drink cups of tea, stare at the television set. I used to be a carefree person, shared happiness in my life. My daughter had changed my being, swapped me for an older version, before my time.

I could not understand why this had happened, I must be doomed, there must be bad luck in the house, in my home. I was tired; I was irrational.

I honed in on Bella’s wedding dress, neatly folded in a box, stashed away, just in case, ever it was needed.

I had made this dress, the design was Vera Wang, it was a fitted dress, with a round neck, and long slim skirt with a slit in the back. The material was pure crushed silk, with silver embroidery swirled over the whole fabric. To the waist, at the back, a bow of the same fabric clipped on, from that bow, layers and layers of pure silk netting for a trail. It was beautiful, to match the intended bride.

That was the talisman – that – dress. I took it our of the box, screwed it in a ball, and shoved into the bin.

Sat back and waited for good luck to return, bring my daughter back to me.

Weddings dress

istockphoto

 

I am the mother of two adult daughters, both much loved and cared for. The eldest thought she could handle social drinking and party drugs, she could not. There is a journey addicts relate to - their journey. As a mother I have healed through the written word. This is my journey.

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