Laura drove her car onto my drive one morning. I was not expecting her.

She rushed into my house, blurted out that a telephone confrontation with Mr Big I Am had led her to his office.

His building was permanently locked, not a welcome practice to take your accounts to. An intercom would buzz, then an expected visitor would be welcomed in.

Laura was not a welcomed visitor that day. New Girl was now employed at the practice, by the man she shacked up with, the wonderful Mr Big I Am.

Laura grabbed a sufficient stone, to do the job the intercom would not, she smashed it through the window. The door opened.

A blazing row began.

Raging with injustice Laura made her way to me, driving through a set of traffic lights on red.

She told me what had happened because she felt sure I would find out.

‘Seriously?’ I asked

‘Seriously,’ she said.

Her behaviour was out of hand. Her state of mind was not good. Why was she under the spell of this horrible, destructive man?

I marched Laura to the doctor’s surgery. The waiting room was full. I demanded an appointment. ‘I need help with my daughter,’ I said. The receptionist led us to an office, to sit and wait. I remember staring at an empty mug, wondering what would become of my girl. I felt as empty as the mug.

We sat by side by side, facing our GP, Laura told him what had happened. She told him honestly.

‘It’s not just that,’ I jumped in, ‘her behaviour’s spiralling out of control, because she drinks too much alcohol.’

I had said it, the taboo phrase out in the open, the phrase we had avoided.

The term we had not shared.

Addict Child by Lesley Sefton buy on amazon

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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