Bella was emotionally damaged, she belonged to the profession of medics: two factors in considering alcoholism. There would be a third, and maybe a fourth.
Had I known these facts back then could I have prevented my daughter becoming an alcoholic? Stopped her from abusing drugs?
I was ignorant of possible triggers.
How do you stop a freight train? You stand in front of it; you sacrifice yourself.
I became wise through experience: you cannot prevent a person determined on self destruction.
Blindly we moved on.
Bella met a nice boy, a boy from a good family, a boy with a future, a boy with a past. He wined and dined her in fancy restaurants, held her hand across a candlelit table. Husband and I crossed our fingers; I crossed my toes.
Bella’s socialising was no longer confined to weekends. She returned home Thursday lunch after spending the previous night out. Bella preferred home, preferred her own bed, if she were absent there was a reason, and it was etched all over her face.
She had been drinking alcohol, to excess.
She was upset, had behaved badly with the nice boy. Nice Boy no more.
Disappointment heightened my temper. I chastised her. She was sorry.
She would no longer trust the welcoming arms of alcohol, she would not be vulnerable again.