Pain and Anger

I never drank outside of a social setting, never did more drugs than the average college student. I was so proud of being addiction free. It was my strength.
Although, during college I would go home to visit and get my fix of pain and daily humiliation from my abusive family.
My father has been an alcoholic for as long as I can remember him. He's a deeply disturbed individual, a recreational sadist yet a functional member of a respectable society. My mother, his victim, aside from living a highly codependent relationship with him, has destroyed any resemblance to a human being. She has no feelings, although she displays outbursts of anger any chance you'll give her. Together they form a picture perfect family who learned how to guard their dark little secrets no matter what it takes.
The amount of abuse physical and emotional I had to suffer as a kid, I won't even mention anymore, because I thought that's what everybody had to go through to deserve a chance in life. It was like a test: the more I endured, the stronger I thought I would turn out to be. I was afraid of dying many times a day. I thought I was inherently bad and had to pay for something I must of done in a previous life. I also thought I helped my mother cope with her own misery, stemmed from the same alcoholic father, who raped/beat/abused her.
Pain was something I thought was a must, if I wanted to live. I purposely sabotaged myself when I felt I would get lucky, or close to winning. I didn't know how to live without pain. I didn't know I had the right to be happy, without being in pain.
Through college, before memories surfaced, I would go visit my parents and they would give me the pain that allowed me to unleash some more built up anger into the world. I lived angrily for the entirety of my 20's. Anger was the fuel for my actions. Anger was how I related to people. Anger was how I graduated Cum Laude. Anger was the basis for the stripper who had to work the pole to pay for her tuition and living expenses.
After I remembered the abuse, I cut contact with my family. I also felt devoid. Had no more reasons to be angry. Where would I get my pain fix? Where would I get anger to propel me into life's struggles?
I felt compelled to miss my family. I realized I miss the pain. I did have an addiction, after all.