Damaged, I was blindsided at nineteen years of age when my older sister asked me if I thought our mother was an alcoholic.
I laughed. Called my brother (26 at the time!) and we both chuckled over how crazy our sister was. Then she sent me a book called Adult Children of Alcoholics. Pretty sure I read the whole thing in one night. I was blown away -- clearly the writer had lived in our home and written about us, the typical three-child family of an alcoholic and a co-dependent.
There is an analogy often cited here about how living with alcoholism is like being a frog in a pot of slowly boiling water -- you don't realize what's going on until it's too late. I didn't start dealing with the after effects of growing up with alcoholism until my first marriage imploded when I was 32. It indeed felt like everything that made me "me" was a lie. I didn't trust myself anymore.
The good news is I sought recovery and now live a much happier healthier life. I am 42, remarried, and while my relationship with my (now recovering) mother is not the best, I am okay with that. Mostly, I am okay with me, for the first time in my life.
You are not alone. You have a place of great comfort, strength and experience. Please keep reading and posting. You are very welcome here.