Various strands of various threads have been weaving themselves together in my mind, to form another part of the pattern. Bear with me, please, while I try to think this through ...
There was much talk of 'training' children in my parents' house, and quite a lot of 'teaching'. Not much of caring or even loving, though I don't know if those concepts are much discussed in families anyway. I'm thinking about the training. My dad liked to say "You don't bring children up," - this was said with a sneer - "You train them." Now, part of his job was as a trainer of recruits; we often heard his tales of harsh punishments and rigorous drills. It was clear he applied his principles to us. He was deliberately cruel to animals.
Basically, his approach to children, women and recruits was the approach used in those days by animal trainers (all stick and no carrot, in his case.) His approach to animals was unspeakable. The values were all downshifted, such that other people were 'animals' and animals were ... I dunno, something to be tortured 
So. According to my father's already harsh values, I was trained as a pet. (This ties in with things like eating out in the garden 'like a dog' and other stuff, as it happens.) The strands weaving together come from threads by abused women, whose partners, we tell them, "love" them as we love our pets. Dad trained me to be a good pet. I never was a good enough pet; result: I became a well-trained pet with an inferiority complex.
Like a whipped dog, I became an adult attracted to - and attractive to - people who set themselves up as Masters, male and female. I did tricks in hopes of praise, cowered before a raised hand, took scraps gratefully and stayed in my place. I never even knew that other women had lives which were not dogs' lives - only that some had kinder 'masters' than mine.
This is just another take on the "Good Girl" syndrome, I suppose. But it carries an extra level of horror in a way - not only have I got to learn it doesn't matter about being a Good Girl; I must first learn not to be any kind of dog. 
It feels damn difficult sometimes. In fact, it usually sometimes feels like I may as well not bother. But there is a "me" in here, un-'trained' and far wiser than my parents, and this "me" deserves a chance to live free and unconstrained by others' demands. I suppose I'll carry on muddling through, giving the 'free me' a voice as best I can, and trust in my process.
It's either that, or sit in the garden and bark 