Facing the Past

Do you ever think back on your life and have a feeling what you remember is not real, but a dream?
Over the last 6 months I have been thinking a lot about the past, not just for memory's sake, but to try and make sense of the present. I have told myself over and over that I had the best childhood, the perfect family, everythings rosey. It is hard to face the fact that your parents weren't (aren't) perfect.
I am the oldest of four kids and I seem to have the hardest time with this. My sister, who is six years younger seems to have a whole different set of memories of "Growing up Rising" Sure I know that my dad was an alcoholic, wrecked our family cars, made my mom cry and scared us shitless most of the time. That just seems to get buried in the happy memories. I think this is good. Isn't it?
What happy memories? Family vacations, laying in the back of the station wagon listening to John Denver on the tape recorder. Playing with my brother and sister for hours outside. Make believe trips in the old Rambler parked out back. Taking care of my 25 hampsters and 6 rabbits.
What I don't care to address? Playing outside for hours because we were scared to go inside. Turning up the tape recorder so we didn't hear my dad. Getting to play in the Rambler because my dad had wrecked it. Needing to take care of someone so bad, wanting to be needed and loved.
I still don't think I get it. When my siblings talk about how messed up our family is, I don't see it. Something I dont see, but know deep inside is holding me hostage. Things in my life seem to always go awry, or do I jump ship when things get tough? I am deathly afraid of not being loved. I am trying to slowly analyze my life, my choices, my feelings. It is hard, so hard I feel I might burst. It is so much easier to live in "the pink".