So, you know my child has grown to be an addict. I shall not take you through all of her childhood. I suspect your interest will be in the trauma of a family coping with an alcoholic.
I will tell you she had a full and vital life before inviting alcohol and drugs into her world.
When Laura was two years old her sister arrived. I spent two weeks in hospital. In the seventies children were not allowed to visit the maternity unit. I was parted from Laura then came home with a baby. Did she feel rejected, replaced? I do not know. We lived in the times we lived in. We followed the rules of the day.
As a family we travelled for leisure: we breathed in culture from Egypt, fun from America, took picnics to the seaside, went on walks, bike rides in the country, dined in restaurants. Laura enjoyed those times, we all did.
Laura was a deep thinker, she amused us with her enquiries: ‘How long does it take to parachute from the moon?’ ‘Do gums have freckles?’ ‘Do false teeth have fillings?’
She was a funny, but demanding child who wanted to walk in my shoes, do what I did. She was the type of child who had to be entertained. Her idea of playing with Barbie was to cut its hair off. She preferred going out, socialising. Not playing alone.
Ironic that as an adult she forced seclusion on herself.
addictchild 