It was a three-hour drive from home when I received a message from my 16-year-old daughter. “I think I’m going to that party tonight,” she texted. “And if I go, I might drink.”
I tried to remain calm. I was with a group of friends at a cozy retreat in the Santa Cruz mountains, just finishing dinner and preparing to head back to our cabins. My husband was out for the night, so I couldn’t ask him to keep Amelia locked up. We had discussed the party and the potential for alcohol about a week before my trip, but I had conveniently pushed those thoughts aside until I received her text.
Teenagers often experiment with drinking and drugs, and while many manage to navigate these experiences without serious consequences, the thought of my child engaging in such activities filled me with dread. Since the moment I found out I was pregnant with Amelia, my only child, I made a promise to myself to do everything in my power to keep her away from alcohol—ideally, forever. If that wasn’t achievable, I thought 21 would be a reasonable target (ha!). At least by then, her brain would be more developed, and hopefully, she’d have better self-control.
You might see me as an overprotective mother, and you wouldn’t be wrong. My concern stems from a deep-rooted fear: both my husband and I are recovering alcoholics, and our family histories are riddled with alcoholism. This fear led me to delay motherhood until it was nearly too late. I was thrilled when Amelia was born, yet I couldn’t shake the worry that she might inherit our tendencies toward alcohol misuse.
I took my first drink at 13, which quickly spiraled into a pattern of heavy drinking that continued into my teenage years. By the time I was Amelia’s age, binge drinking was a regular occurrence for me. I would often wake up in unfamiliar places, embarrassed and confused, while my peers moved on to careers, families, and stable lives. Meanwhile, I was racking up DUIs and struggling to keep my life together.
For a long time, I believed that instilling fear about alcohol would prevent Amelia from following in my footsteps. My scare tactics seemed to work when she was younger—at least that’s what I convinced myself. She would nod along as I lectured her about the dangers of drinking, swearing she’d never touch a drop.
Then high school hit. When her friends began experimenting with alcohol in their sophomore year, Amelia echoed my warnings about the perils of drinking. Unfortunately, this did not end well; her friends distanced themselves from her. Eventually, she found a new group through the school drama program, and I praised her for avoiding alcohol at social gatherings. Yet, she expressed frustration over feeling like an outsider, and she began to question whether she could handle drinking in moderation when everyone else was doing it.
One evening, as she prepared to go out with friends, I launched into my usual warning about the dangers of alcohol. Amelia snapped back, “I’ve only been saying I never want to drink because I’ve been brainwashed by you! I don’t want to get drunk, or even have a drink every time I go out. But I’m not you. I might want to drink sometimes just to be social.”
She reminded me that she had always been trustworthy. She could have lied about drinking like some of her classmates but hadn’t. I knew she was right; while Amelia isn’t perfect, she is not deceitful. We’ve always had a close relationship built on open communication.
As much as I wish my daughter could avoid the pitfalls of teenage drinking, it is a reality we can’t ignore. I realized I needed to loosen my grip and allow her to make her own choices. Perhaps letting her navigate her own path with alcohol, as terrifying as it felt, would ultimately benefit us both.
Back at the retreat, I texted her back. “I’d prefer you not to drink at all, but I’m glad you told me. Call me.”
Despite the poor reception, we created a plan for the evening. She agreed to be home by 11:30 and to only ride with her friend’s dad, not any party-goers. I advised her to take it easy and avoid shots or random drinks from others. Before we ended the call, I told her I’d check in via text throughout the night, and I expected prompt responses.
As it turned out, she reached out first. “I think I’m tipsy,” she texted.
I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Amelia isn’t me. “How does it feel?” I replied.
“Kind of good, I guess. Not that exciting, really.”
The tension in my shoulders eased.
A year has passed since that night. Amelia doesn’t attend a lot of parties, but when she does, she decides in advance whether to drink. I know this because we talk about it. She has realized she is sensitive to alcohol—a few sips are usually enough for her. Unlike my own teenage years, when I drank to excess, she often chooses to skip the alcohol altogether. She has never been drunk, has always come home on time, and has never gotten into a car with someone who had been drinking.
We understand that this could change as she approaches college and adulthood, with the potential for binge drinking looming ahead. This thought terrifies me, but if she ever finds herself in trouble, she knows she can come to me for help.
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Summary
In this reflective piece, Laura Thompson shares her experience as a mother navigating her teenage daughter’s potential experimentation with alcohol. Despite her fears stemming from her own past with substance abuse, she realizes the importance of open communication and allowing her daughter to make her own choices regarding drinking. Through their discussions, Laura hopes to foster a relationship built on trust while preparing for the challenges that lie ahead as Amelia approaches adulthood.