I grew up in a very traditional catholic family, and saying that still feels like an understatement as to how traditional catholic my family was. My parents have not changed from when I was young, although I have and for a long time they had no idea. This isn't strange, because I'm not close with my parents, and I always got the feeling they didn't really know me. I was the twelfth child, after all, and I wasn't even the youngest. By the time my parents had few enough children living at home that they could give more one-on-one time with us younger ones, we were already teenagers. It is too late by then.
Nevertheless, I grew up fully immersed in my catholic family, firmly believing all of my catechism and apologetic books my parents had available to us. I believed that Catholicism was the one true religion and agreed with the philosophies and theologies that were presented as evidence for my belief. I participated in all of the sacraments from first communion, to confirmation and marriage and the baptisms of my children.
And then, over the course of four years, I began to find questions I couldn't answer. I read everything I could find, trying to reassure myself of the reason behind my beliefs. New questions came up that I never had heard or thought of before. The answers I thought I always had fell apart under scrutiny.