She was, she still is, but the only difference was she longer allowed it to define her.
She was an Alcoholic’s daughter. Phew. She felt relieved to let it out, like a huge burden had been gently taken from her. Her father was an alcoholic. She had seen bad, bad things, things no child should have to see. She had seen her father beat her mother, she remembered running all the way as fast as she could to get help, she remembered lying awake all night, listening for any noises, any indication that something was wrong.
She was past all this now. almost. She still could not sleep alone at night, awaking in the middle with her body trembling, she still had some fear in her heart. But, it was just some.
She knew her dreams now, she was rising slowly and steadily, she smiled, she fell, she got up, she recovered. Most importantly, she was an Alcoholic’s daughter.