I’ve never been able to believe in gods. I don’t think I ever really tried. My first clue was probably when I was about four and my older sister started telling me about her personal relationship with god and how he spoke to her. I kept trying to ask just *how* he spoke to her. Was it a voice in her head or did she hear it with her ears or what?

And it turned out there was no voice. She just ‘knew’ somehow whatever it was god wanted her to know. In other words, it was just a *feeling*.

When I asked how she knew it was god and not her brain, she just insisted that she somehow knew the difference. I knew immediately that this was no kind of answer at all and proceeded to ask everyone else I could find about their relationship with god.

The results left me in no doubt that everyone was just making this stuff up. The most common response was indignation or open anger. The idea that a child might be challenging their relationship with god really seemed to piss people off. But I never once got an answer that made any sense to me. Never once was the claimed conversation with god distinguishable in any way from just thinking or feeling.

But my family was pretty religious. I went to Sunday school and church and I was confirmed… And then when I was 10 or so, the penny finally dropped. I didn’t have to pretend! It genuinely hadn’t occurred to me until that moment that I could just refuse to go. It had never been presented as an option and I’d never realised that I could *make* it an option.

And so I came out. And it was hard. 30 years later, my parents still think my atheism is a phase I’m going through. They are smugly confident that I’ll undergo a presto-changeo deathbed conversion if my increasingly obvious mortality doesn’t frighten me into belief before then. It’s infuriating that they think so little of me and there’s no doubt that this is the biggest contributor to the rift that’s existed between us for decades.

They refuse to take me seriously because I don’t believe in something I cannot believe in. Which is ironic on several levels.

It gets better. But sometimes it gets better because you stop caring what bigots think of you rather than because they’ve come to understand your position.

I guess that I have always felt godless. It was the pressure of family and friends that kept me in the belief system in which I was raised. It has been a long journey to where I am now. It includes spending time as: Episcoplian, Nichiren Shoshu Buddhism, Southern Baptist, Pentecostal, Roman Catholic, and my final godless status.

Growing up, I was taught a prayer to say before I went to bed. I can still remember it. “In this little bed I lie, Heavenly Father hear my cry, God protect me through the night and Keep me safe ’til morning light, Amen.” I would say it each and every night and I enjoyed saying it. It was nice to know that God looked out for me and cared that I woke up in the morning. I never gave it a moment’s thought. I went to a typically English Church of England school and for assembly, all of us kids would congregate in the hall and sing songs, listen to stories (often of a Biblical nature) and also pray. The teacher would say a load of things and we would keep our eyes closed for the duration and then say Amen at the end. I never knew why we were doing it but did it anyway.

Once in a while, our school would make the trek to the local church which was linked to our school and we’d have a service at Christmas and Easter time. We’d make Christingles, basically an orange with a candle shoved into the top and 4 cocktail sticks with sultanas skewered into them around the base of that. We’d be given instructions as to where we had to walk in the church with our Christingles and then we’d go back to school after it was all over. All very benign and as I’ve said, rather enjoyed it. I loved hearing about Jesus “gentle, meek and mild” and of the other tales involving among others, Noah and Jonah and the Three Wise Men. The church was stunning architecturally. I’d find myself looking up at the vaulted ceiling and at the big oak doors and the ornate decorative touches here there and everywhere.

I left school at 11 and was sent to a private school which had its very own chapel and the same thing would happen there, a couple of services a week and we’d listen to the priest standing at the ornate pulipt and he’d waffle on and on, we’d sing a few hymns and be sent back to the classroom. Again, I didn’t know why we did it but it was compulsory so we weren’t to argue. There was one kid who was mad on being at the chapel and now looking back I can see why. He understood why we were there and felt there was something underlying it all. I just found it incredibly boring and frankly pointless. I didn’t know what it was all for.

When I was 23, my Dad passed away and I moved down to the coast to just get my head together really and deal with my loss. Having come from a strict home in which you mustn’t swear, drink or smoke or do anything worldly whatsoever because it was all disgusting I loved my new found freedoms and spent most of the time away from home, trying to get into bed with women (most of the time unsuccessfully I might add!), getting drunk and smoking endless cigarettes. I was out each and every night, frequenting the bars, pubs and nightclubs, playing pool, watching bands, hanging out on the pier and going down to the beach every chance I could get. It was during this time I had an experience. I was on a bus and for a split-second it was as if time stood still, I felt amazing and when I came back to my senses I was changed. Life felt better somehow. I didn’t know what it was that had occurred, all I knew was one minute I was sitting at the back of a bus waiting for it to move off and the next I felt totally different, invincible almost and I had to find out what it was that had just taken place.

I was staying with someone who was very ‘spiritual’ and he informed me that I’d had a ‘spiritual awakening’ and began to show me places around town where I could meet with people along similar lines and so I began frequenting New Age shops, meeting people who were into crystals, dowsing, tarot, astrology, numerology you name it. I met with people who termed themselves mediums, clairvoyants and psychics. At around this time I was friends with someone who went to psychic development classes where each person in turn would stand up and give an impromptu reading or would feel a piece of jewellery or a key as one example and say what they ‘got’ from it and it sounded like a load of old shite to me but I kept going because it was fascinating. It was like home-based theatre and I couldn’t get enough of it. Every couple of weeks, these events would take place in different member’s houses.

I can recall my friend getting up and informing the person whose house it was that he was seeing the Great Wall of China and did she understand the message? She said she did not. He kept prompting her with this vision and she kept saying that it meant nothing to her. At some point within all of this she did say “well, in my old house I did have a wall in my kitchen which I had some china plates on and could it be that?” My friend beamed and said yes, it was that and everyone noticeably relaxed and smiled because frankly, up until that point, it was toe-curlingly embarrassing being there listening to all of that. He stated that it was all becoming clear now before telling her about her old house in a very detailed way and at the end of it everyone clapped including myself. It was only sometime later when at his house, I understood the nature of that evening’s ‘giftedness’ when he was flicking through some albums he had and it showed this person’s old house and all the things he’d mentioned in the ‘reading’ were shown quite clearly in the pictures!! I became aware that he was a charlatan and soon left all of that behind.

I still needed something though because as of yet I hadn’t had any experiences which had in any way echoed what I’d felt on the bus and so with that I began to go to New Age sites online as well as Pagan forums. I was meeting all these amazing new and interesting people who by day worked clearing drains or in shops selling computer equipment but by night dressed differently and had strange and elaborate sounding names like Lunar NightDreams and Lady SpiritSong etc etc. I took on a fancy name and really threw myself into it. I did quite a few Pagan-type rituals where I’d set up an altar and had my athame (pagan ritual knife) and something in each corner to represent the Quarters and had candles and incense burning away. After the ritual when I’d cut the circle I’d sit there and have some mead-like drink and a nice thick slab of cake. I’d photograph this and then bung it up on a Pagan forum and everyone would say “wow, that looks great” and then speak about what they’d done. For a while it was cool, in that I was doing all the right things in terms of rituals and the like but I wasn’t feeling anything underlying it at all. I was in essence burning candles and chanting in a room which only had me in it or that’s how it felt.

Maybe Paganism wasn’t for me after all and I still hadn’t felt anything which mirrored the bus experience so with that, I went back to the religion of my youth, Christianity. I was in town and whilst walking along, I saw people smiling and looking happy. They were filing out of the main town centre church so I thought I’d go across, introduce myself and take it from there. Well, it wasn’t long before I was a regular fixture in the church on Sundays. It was a large church and had loads of activities going on, there was always something you could tap into within the social calendar and there were doctors, lawyers, accountants, geneticists you name it as well as regular folk like myself. This was the place for me I thought. I had to repent for the stuff I’d done previously but that was okay, I saw it as being cleansed of all the silliness so just did it and it was good to put all that craziness behind me. Little did I know what was to come.

It wasn’t long before I realised that the quaint religion of my upbringing was nothing at all like ‘real’ Christianity. I was told of a God who was ever-loving and lived in the hearts and minds of Christians, these hard-faced cold, humourless and bigoted people I saw before me! I also learned about Satan and the hot place he had lined up for all those who didn’t believe and not to mention, all the angels and spiritual realms as well. There was a lot to take in. The problem I had was I couldn’t, as much as I tried to, ever feel the presence of God let alone all these other things too.

I could read the stories and get off into them and there were some good parables and messages and moral stuff within what I was hearing and reading but I could never get the sense of a personal creator God who was alive and with us at every moment. Outside of the Bible, third party accounts and hearsay I quite simply had no experience of this entity that they were all dancing round with hands lifted and praising so heavily. It’s quite an eye-opener when you see very successful people in and around town prancing about whilst verbalising nonsense over and over. I was told this was the Gift of Tongues that not everyone could readily attain but if I prayed hard enough it would happen. I was tired of asking God for this ‘gift’ so one day I began doing it openly in church and people were coming over, patting me on the back and grinning and saying “see, it happens if you pray and believe enough.” But I’d just copied what they’d said verbatim and spewed it all out. Scary stuff indeed.

As well as going to this church I was also going to another one a little farther afield because I’d heard that the Holy Spirit (the time of the Toronto Blessing) was at work there and yes there was indeed something going on within the church. I arrived and it was a regular normal church service though of a different denomination, no dog-collars on show just pullovers and corduroy slacks! About two thirds of the way into this very ordinary service, one woman started shaking violently like she was either going to throw up or shit herself. I was transfixed. Slowly, this began spreading down the rows until most people were shaking, babbling incoherently with hands outstretched and praising Jesus’ name. I knew I had to go back. After a few times, I was informed of the ‘closed’ church service on the Sunday evening which was for members only. I joined up and went and that was unbelievable.

This time, the service wasn’t as long and at the end of the last song the chairs were moved to the sides of the room and people were literally writhing all over the floor, shouting, crying, giggling and twisting their bodies into all sorts of positions. There were people standing over them and praying and ‘blessing’ them ‘in Jesus’ name.’ “Yes, we thank you Jesus” they would say over and over. One woman had gotten herself wedged between the piano and the wall and they were all laughing trying to get her back out again so she could continue with her ‘blessing.’ If I had told these people I’d seen this at a Pagan ceremony they would have said what I was witnessing was demonic but nope, this was all perfectly okay because it was done in a church and with the full ‘blessing of the Lord.’ I never went again. The drive home was interesting. One of the members lived a few hundred yards from me so gave me a lift home. It was nice to know that just round the corner from me was a 40-something virgin who detested homosexuals (he banged on about that endlessly during the 25-minute journey) and who’d literally swan-dived onto the carpet of the church just hours before while laughing maniacally and praising God. And to think these people are viewed by many as pillars of the community!!!

So I went back exclusively to the town centre church and it was one particular evening when it hit home for me. After the service was over and the elders were shutting up shop, a very intoxicated man approached the church to see if there was anywhere he could stay. The chap I was getting a lift home with looked very uncomfortable indeed and basically tried to shoo him away. The man hadn’t bathed for some time and it was obvious he was living out on the streets. He pointed to the kitchen adjacent to the front door and asked if we had any food in there, I said I’d go and have a look which resulted in some very very hostile glares from the others, one who was in a hurry to get back home because he’d taped a programme he wanted to watch. On the worktop in the kitchen was half of a loaf of bread and in the cupboard were two tins of sardines. This was not lost on me. I said that “yes, we had loaves and fishes” and did he want them and brought them out to where he was. These were snatched away from me and I was informed that these items were church property and were to be left where they were. The fact the bread would have been manky the next day, seemed lost on him. I was told to get in the car and the man was shooed away. On the way home, I was made to endure harsh backward glances from the driver and comments from the passenger seat asking “what had got into me?” My response of one word, “compassion” seemed to elicit more ire so I left it. They really weren’t nice people. The spell had been broken and I didn’t go back. These types were in it for themselves. It was a big social club for inadequates basically.

After that, slowly and surely I began to pick away at my ‘belief’ and realised that wanting to believe and believing are not the same thing. In all the time of questioning; reading books from every religious and spiritual traditions that I could lay my hands on; all the meetings, groups, workshops, religious services .. throughout all of that, I had NEVER experienced anything of ‘God’ which couldn’t have happened or been explained away ordinarily through entirely natural means. That was a shocker! I couldn’t believe that I had wasted all of that time when I would have been better reading a comic book or an illustrated book of fables. I then started to think back on it all. Whatever had occurred on that bus was more likely to do with my brain chemistry at the time (after all I was boozing up several nights a week, smoking loads of ciggies and not getting huge amounts of sleep and until a few months before I’d done nothing of the sort) and less to do with anything mystical or magical. Even Christopher Hitchens talks about experiencing the numinous, the awe you get when listening to, reading, seeing, something amazing. Richard Dawkins also talks of having these kinds of feelings when out in nature or listening to Bach. For me though, I guess I wanted it to be something more because of the upbringing I’d had and how I so desperately wanted to believe in God. Recollecting my childhood prayers, even these took on a more sinister tone. I was basically imploring a loving God to allow me to wake up the next morning and not be taken while I slept. I mean, how sick is that?

I have been back to church several times since then to see if there’s anything there but try as I might, the spell remains broken. I guess I was trying to make sense of the time I spent attending. Plus of course, it’s a lonely old time when you do see sense and leave because when I walked away, I was left with nothing. No more phone calls, no more invites to here there and everywhere, no more readymade social network. It’s a scary time. I saw through it, I knew these people weren’t friends at all, just users but I still missed the company and that’s why I went back. I was prepared to say I was wrong but try as I might, I could only see people acting ridiculously in an otherwise empty room. It’s quite an eye-opener when you see someone thanking the ceiling for them having a healthy family!

The acknowledgement that I’d been lying to myself all along, that there was no God and no supernatural component to life was scary because it felt like the roof had been lifted off my world. There was now no safety net in place, no way to shirk responsibility for my own life, no way to endlessly pass the buck. It shouldn’t have taken me so long to realise this because I have never believed in a life after this one. I have always believed that when I close my eyes for the last time, I’m not going to wake up someplace else. That’s it. Curtains. Total annihilation of the self forever and ever. I cannot believe in something just because others say it’s true. I cannot believe in something which is written in a book and is backed up by so-called witnesses, after all if I did that I’d have to believe in Rumpelstiltskin because the Miller and his daughter witnessed him, wouldn’t I? It’s a laughably obvious fairytale for people who are afraid of death and conversely, of life. It’s a way for buck-passing adults to remain as children in a world that isn’t so scary for them to deal with. I was one of these people but thankfully, no more.

Life is scary, bad things do happen and it’s filled with many uncertainties. It’s also wonderful and filled with laughter, joy and all the good things you can think of. It doesn’t need a so-called loving God who’s ready to smite you when you step out of line and it doesn’t mean when you do something that’s not laid out in a book as being especially great that it’s Satan who’s controlling your senses. I always found the God/Satan relationship very dicey indeed. Satan’s this fallen angel who does everything he can to chip away at God and then he punishes those who’ve done his bidding in an afterlife. Why would he do that? Surely he would reward them?

I used to sit in the church pews thinking to myself “you know, I think that God and the Devil are either in cahoots with one another or they’re one and the same.” I mean, why would a loving God send his cast-offs to Hell? Does he call up the Devil and say, “right I’ve got another one for you, when shall I bring him/her round or are you gonna pass by and pick him/her up?” Then there’s the part about God wiping the memories of the people who have loved ones languishing away in Hell so they can’t hear their screams and then there’s the passage in the Book of Revelation (14.10) where it speaks of the Lamb and his angels being present while Satan supposedly is tortured with brimstone. Christian apologists (all of them that is) say that the Lamb mentioned here isn’t Jesus when in every other part of the Bible it has been. I wonder why that is? However you read it, it means that God can get down to Hell on a whim and be present to passively watch horrendous suffering. Some may argue “yeah but it’s only Satan, so why worry?” The simple fact is, it goes against the notion of a loving God which the church actively likes to peddle. There are many people I dislike but I don’t wish to watch their suffering in a fire and I’m someone who supposedly needs the guidance of a just God. It’s utter and complete barbarity. Lunacy.

Sadly though, so long as children are being inculcated with this garbage at an early enough age where it sticks and we as people grow up to fear death as being an unnatural state which only happens to those who don’t adequately believe in the right things, this hogwash will continue and that’s a terrible shame. I baulk when I think of the countless lives lost to religion; the endless potential contained within all living things stifled and in very many cases, lost altogether and all in the pursuit of the imaginary. It’s utterly and completely sickening. As long as there is religion we’ll continue to loot and pillage this world in preparation for a supposed better one to come when we have that world right here, right now, all of the time. If we spent our lives not thinking of anything beyond death and instead spent it on the one life we all have this world would be a far nicer place to live in but maybe that’s why we have religion. After all, who would have the exclusivity then?

Thanks for reading my story.

I first realized I was a non-theist when I first began to think about religion. At 8 years old, I ‘came out’ to my mother while we were discussing an aspect of Christianity. I asked her what heaven would be like, and upon hearing her answer and deciding that heaven was too boring, I then asked what would hell be like. I shocked my poor mother by saying hell sounded like more fun. It was then I realized that Christianity made no sense at all and had no basis in logic and that it would be best to keep my thoughts on the subject to myself. And so I did until age 14, when I began coming out to others one friend at a time. Now I ‘come out’ whenever the opportunity presents itself, such as when confronted with religious nonsense. I’ll say I’m an atheist just to shut them up or I’ll call them out for being nonsensical. I have no patience for baseless arguments.

I’m a born atheist. Simply my parents didn’t implant the stupid concept of god in my infanthood. I thank them once in a while for that. So I have no fear of any unseen imaginary power. I believe something when it can be proved without doubt.

I am happy to contact atheists all over the world to exchange ideas and help people to leave monotheism as well as polytheism. Please don’t hesitate to contact me. Thank u.

I never bought into the whole religious party line. Even when I was young, all the time the preachers were telling me about their “good news” I was remembering the other advice my parents gave me. Never believe what other people tell you automatically, no matter who they are. I was about 25 years old when I first heard about American Atheists, and realized there must be plenty of other people who thought the same way. When I first saw the American Atheist magazine in a tobacco shop, I thought it was a joke publication, and laughed about it. The next day I made a special trip back to that store to buy a copy, though, and it didn’t take me too long to become a Life Member.

I’ve heard and read many stories from people who have given up religion, this is mine.

Looking back on my life I was lucky to have been raised in a free thinking, relatively religion free household. Both of my parents had been raised in pretty strict catholic families. My dad was an atheist and my mom was only moderately religious. The only time I ever went to church was when I went with my grandparents around Christmas and Easter. I was never particularly religious but I did pray to “god” on occasion. My parents never tried to get me to believe a certain way so any religious beliefs I held were because I chose to. When I was a teenager my maternal grandmother became very ill and developed Alzheimer’s. Now keep in mind that my grandmother was strict Irish catholic and devoted much of her free time to her church. Near the end of her life her Alzheimer’s became so severe that she couldn’t use the toilet on her own nor could she walk or talk. I went with my mom to visit my grandma one day and as I stood there looking at how much my god fearing grandmother had deteriorated I wondered, “If “God” is so loving and caring why is he allowing one of his devout followers to die in such a horrible way?” “Why couldn’t she have retained use of her faculties and just fall asleep one night and never wake up?” Soon after that I began questioning the existence of a higher power and as I got older I dismissed religion altogether. The godless life is truly the good life!

There’s nothing like a little religiousity to get the blood flowing, as many former religionists know. I came from the Xian tradition coupled with an ample seasoning of humanism. (My bet is that my mom is as close as one can come to being a free thinker as possible but still be vaguely literalist in the cross bit.) BUT DON’T BE CONFUSED: I am a proud agnostic-atheist because agnosticism is only logical and atheism is the general default that follows most readily from that.

I once thought Jesus would have nothing to do with me, based on my popularity. I once thought he was really interested in my letting go of a little pent up tension -one way or the next, to people’s help and not their hurt. I once thought God should alternately be spelled in lower case and upper case letters and Jesse should be substituted for Jesus every here and there -so we could see the meanings of the passages beyond language. I once thought I might one day see a limb regrown. And now … enough is enough.

If people want to be foolish, they should do it while living their own lives -not a prescribed version -but this, only if they’re intelligent enough. And yes, that’s inflammatory. And yes, that’s okay. And no, you can’t count on a government to do it for you. And yes, we should all stop them from trying.

The facts are these, in short: Grew up all my life in a Christian home with over zealous father; comes from some real psychological absurdity he couldn’t have helped -and maybe, no one else could: chemical &/ trauma-induced imbalance in grandmother. My mother grew up with a father that turned alcoholic, abusively, and womanizingly so, too, and she was left to raise her three brothers in this same home most of her younger years -she somehow sustained some wonderful humanism through it all. My grandfather, on my dad’s side, certainly had his problems, but he was always a skeptic, and educator, even if a believer underneath it all -my dad went more fundamentalist on his own or with some help from the older women in his life -his mom and his grandmother who lived with them. (They, his mom & his grandmom, were also into spiritualism.)

I swooned under the influence of paranormal research, meditative apathy, prayers to a transcendent I-never-could tell-quite-what and three counts of full blown depression (the last two for which I took meds): after several Psychology courses, two Dale Carnegie books, Penn & Teller -especially, Season 3 (which I got from my grandparents -dad’s side- three christmases ago), Michael Shermer in his debate on God/Atheism (militant agnosticism!), and Guy P. Harrison’s (Prometheus publishes it) 50 reasons people give for believing in a god, and Bernard M. Patten’s book Truth, Knowledge, Or Just Plain Bull: How To Tell The Difference -these sources really helped, as did a little reflection and appreciation of the glibly persuasive account of god given by Douglas Adams on evolution/god -it’s maybe 5 minutes long, yet better than several books on the subject.

Somehow, I clawed my way to skepticism, secular humanism, and philosophical pursuits. It didn’t hurt that a personality test placed me in a group of real heady thinkers when I was 20. The Tao Te Ching, read largely in a philosophical context several times over a dozen years, really helped me break free of much of the indoctrination before I learned logic, took a couple introductory literature courses, and began to read the Skeptical Inquirer (their FB stuff is quite good, too).

I guess, I made my own extended therapy through literature, philosophy, logic, life’s disappointments and wonderments, and yes, even the Four Horsemen -though I want to see what is better put and more vigorous and erudite than anything they have to say about atheism.

Screw communism and screw capitalism -and no, I’m not so sure about any -ism, -ian, -ish, or substitute for thinking -or feeling, for that matter. But let them play their part if they accept that they don’t want to stand between those who embrace life and those who won’t get in it’s way, either.

Power to the people.

I’m 31 and still have some libido religion couldn’t snatch away from me. Praise whatever you call-it! -I’m celebrating it/me.

Well, over the last couple of weeks I’ve been making a serious effort to ‘come out’ as an atheist. Granted, my status on myspace and whatnot has said ‘atheist’ for ‘religion’ for years now (prior to that I was agnostic, so there was absolutely no response to that change.)  But back to the present (or at least recent past) when I told my mother (A Universalist Unitarian) she was unsurprised and mentioned that many of the people at her congregation (I hesitate to call it a ‘church’, because of the negative connotation that bears) were also atheist. Again, no drama, no negativity. When I mentioned it to my father, (a retired Navy Captain) I did so by saying “I think my own atheism stems from my childhood appreciation of nature, all the outings, and the David Attenborough documentaries that I loved so much.” His response was “I like the documentaries too. I wouldn’t say I loved them, but I definitely enjoyed them.” I should perhaps, mention that my father, although a successful navy officer of 30 years, was known to be somewhat of a loose cannon, even going so far as to tell the captain of his ship (when he was XO) that the ship was ‘godless’, and when I asked him whether he was indeed Atheist, (because of his intense dislike of Christianity) he said no, he’s more of an Agnostic. Either way, he has the same dim view of organized religion as do I, and he seemed quite cheerful for the rest of that conversation (which I take to mean that he approves.) The only negative responses I’ve gotten (aside from some random fundamentalist on Tagged who got pissed when I responded to her ‘Jesus saves’ tags with a quote by Thomas Jefferson on how Christianity was the most perverted system.) were from my GF and her daughter. My GF (a Wiccan) was just annoyed because I’ve been very noisy about the whole affair, and she does, after all believe in a supreme being, the afterlife and magic, and I embrace the concept of ultimate mortality and reject the supernatural, and was kinda going on about that. The daughter was just annoyed because I’ve been noisy and I’m dating her mom. Which brings me to the ultimate reason that I’ve gotten very little in the way of response: I don’t have christian friends. (except maybe my sister) Most of my friends are Wiccan, and really don’t care that I don’t share their faith, as long as I don’t try to preach lack of faith to them. Of the rest of my friends and family, well, my best friend is Buddhist, and again, doesn’t really care, my youngest sister is agnostic, and the older of my sisters, (still younger than me) while nominally still christian, (she became so while dating a fundamentalist christian in high school) hasn’t been to church in years, and with the lack of a support structure (and in the light of her own substantial intelligence, and the sceptical view of the rest of us), her faith has withered. She never, however, was dogmatic (My father would’ve responded pretty harshly to that) and was in a much better position to understand what an atheist or agnostic REALLY is.

Anyways, that’s my story.  I guess I kinda drifted away from it. Anyways, now I’m gonna go order some shirts and hats and wear them around town (including to the local walmart) and see what happens. It’ll be an adventure, ’cause I live in Pahrump, NV (a particularly odious little hick-town).

I grew up in suburban Detroit in a moderately religious household. We attended church most Sundays. I went to Catholic school from K-9. In all this time, I cannot remember ever believing a shred of dogma. I can remember being very young, in mass, looking around at the stained glass, the crucifix, the candles, and thinking this cannot be right. Of course I didn’t recognize myself as an atheist at that time. In fact, I don’t think that I really believed that others REALLY believed. I think I thought it was a bit of a grown-up joke, just a bunch of rituals and practices that mainly served to bring people together for friendship, gossip and community. The biblical passages and stories couldn’t possibly be truly believed by adults. It was only later in life that I truly understood the powerful hold that religion has over the vast majority of people. This revelation did not give me joy.