Bella had been in rehab for twelve months, time for her to come home, integrate back into society.
She had reached for rehab, reached for help, when her life had spiralled out of control. She had served her time; she had reformed.
I was so excited to bring her home.
Married sister, two baby boys, and I, went to collect her – collect our precious gift – a recovered Bella.
Husband and I had discussed, with Bella, her need to return to work, her ‘year out’, was coming to an end. We understood the concept – hard work equalled good life. Good for her recovery, to be invested in her career.
I walked into the sitting room of the rehabilitation house – with my welcome party in tow – my heart skipped a lighter beat, to the drum it played on my first visit here. Bella jumped off the settee to greet us.
There were presents, hugs and kisses for her, from the other residents, from care workers, from the finance man. She must have done well to receive this sort of send off, me thinks. I was happy to see it. But, I will never forget, the finance guy, saying to Bella, ‘don’t go back to work too soon, take it slow, make sure you’re ready, that you can handle the pressure.’
What tosh – the sooner she was back in work the better, the whole family agreed. But, then we were not experts in the journey of recovering alcoholics. We still had a lot to learn.
Out of the building we bounced, thank you very much rehab, and goodbye forever.
How misguided was I?