I think I'm a drunk, Mom

Dear Mom,
I think I have a problem. Last weekend when you were at Aunt Cissie's I got drunk. And it's not the first time. I think all week about getting together with my friends so we can drink beer. I know I'm not old enough to buy beer, but it's pretty easy to get. And I think about it all the time.

I don't know what to do.

Graduation

Dear Mom,
I know this sounds so dumb, but I just realized that everything is about to change. All my friends have plans for the summer and I know we will see each other, but it will never be the same again. I want to talk to you about this. I do. But I know you will just tell me it will be all right or you will try to 'fix' me one more time. I just need to vent. And to know that you won't change. You will still be here when my life changes. I am excited and scared and ready and not ready and a grownup and a girl. I'm all these things and sometimes I just want my mother. Like a nine year old going away to sleep away camp. And whatever you do: don't turn my room in your own little nest. Not yet. Not for a long time.
I love you, mom.
Nattie

You don't have to shout

Dear Mom,

I know I don't always react right away when you tell me something. Give me a minute to process, please. And please, please, please don't shout. I go deaf when you shout. I just want to leave. I'm growing up, please talk to me like an adult.

I love you, mom.

CeCe