If you just want to know the train of thought behind my own mental blossoming, I suggest you skip the first segment.

I was born a human and raised a Christian. My family attended services at a contemporary Presbyterian church. I attended kindergarten at a Lutheran school and grades 1-7 at a Catholic school.

I’m not sure what to call it, but the environment I was raised in was not that of fundamentalist Christians, thank goodness. I was naturally inquisitive growing up. This especially applies to me spiritually. I could never stop questioning my being. Of course, I was so close to the religious beliefs I had been brought up with, they were always a part of my self-image. I could not view myself without a god.

My mother, unfortunately, kept me hooked on many of the weakest faith based ideas. My father, more open minded, and an atheist himself, was and still is an incredibly weak man. Weak to temptation and quick to anger. My time spent growing up was a… very confusing part of my life.

Finally, at the age of 17, my parents finally broke up. There were a few other tragedies, which I will not make particular mention of, that really struck me. A great number of other heart-wrenching events decided to take their place literally within the same week of the divorce. Mentally, I broke down. The household and family I had grown up with fell apart entirely and I had lost all of my good friends, which was basically all of my friends. This was a major changing point in my life. Not weird, I suppose, but after these events I found myself lacking the will to do absolutely anything. So I spent most of my time thinking, listening to music, playing video games, and thinking some more.

This is how it occurred to me. I always found it strange that so many other religions exist other than “my own”. I simply thought thought that if there were so many Christians, we must be right. But then it began to dawn on me just how different beliefs were from person to person. What was the point of a religion that refuses beliefs from all other religions when there are not only many variations of said religion itself but variations of beliefs from person to person? Could you really be a Christian if you were not a fundamentalist? And if I said yes, was I not simply in a state of denial, torn between my own morals and beliefs and the “faith” which I felt I belonged to?

Eventually, I came out of this denial. I called myself agnostic for a small period of time but soon realized the bullshit involved with such a concept. One of the core elements of “faith” is indoctrination and so I figured it’d just be better to call myself an atheist. Not to mention realizing that believing in something does not make you a christian in any way, shape, or form. Also, what I believed in did not include a deity. I finally realized that spirituality was a core element of my own, personal being and it was not necessary to butcher the term with religious beliefs.

Now, I do not call myself an atheist. I do not need to. I am a free man.

From my earliest memories of childhood I can recall to having had an adverse reaction to going to church.
My father was raised in a Mormon family that was quite devout, my mother’s family on the other hand was a mix of Presbyterianism and Alcoholism.( the latter,my grandfathers religion, later to become mine) So my parents felt it was important to put on a good face for my grandmother( dad’s side) and have all of us participate in the LDS Primary and Sunday school classes that other children my age participated in.

I remember being dragged from the gymnasium of the church (where we would play before primary) more than a few times to these little indoctrination classes. Mainly because I really couldn’t stand to hear about some guy, who looked like my Uncle Leonard (a biker who was killed in a motorcycle accident in 1973) and what he had to say about “The Kingdom of Heaven”, or about his father. I did however find the prospect of a “Holy Ghost” kind of cool! ( I was 6) Then they would begin to drone on about some man by the name of Joseph Smith, and how he was a profit of our heavenly father. Just like Spencer Kimball. (LDS President at the time) And some jazz about golden plates and a bunch of other hullaballoo! Needless to say, this was all too boring for me. But for my baptism at 8, I stopped going to primary and Sunday school until I reached the age of eleven. All reluctantly for two reasons,to attend Boy Scouts and look at cute girls.

As a teen I became involved in the LDS Priesthood almost by accident. All of my friends at the time were forced to attend church on Sunday. So I started to tag along for kicks. It was seventh grade, and since my birthday is in August, most of my friends were half a year older then me. So they all “graduated” from being Deacons, to Teachers before me (to much time to explain, read this) So I was given the post of being the Deacons Quorum President. I’ll never forget how it all came about. I was asked in to see the Bishop of our ward. He sat me down and proceeded to tell me and I quote “We (the brethren) have been praying for guidance in choosing a new Deacons Quorum President, and God has directed us to you.” I just about fell out of my chair! You see, at the time I had been smoking marijuana and drinking regularly for a year! At first I thought, “well maybe this is a sign for me to change.” Then later after accepting the position. I realized it was a “warm body” thing, and the whole thing was a farce! My parents made me stick to this responsibility, half assed I did, but I still continued to get stoned and drink!

By the time I was in high school, I had completely given up on Mormonism. I renounced my membership, and made it abundantly clear to my classmates I was not the least bit interested in going back to their church! Of course this made dating a challenge, as most of the girls in my high school were LDS. More than a few tried to talk me into going to church with them, but I resisted.

Once out of high school, I met more like minded people, and began to broaden my horizons so to speak. I ran with a crowd that was made up of a Lutheran, a Catholic, a Baptist, a Greek Orthodox, and another ex Mormon. We had many discussions about religion and I was exposed to different ideas. Our common thread was that we were all unhappy with religion of our parents. We shunned religion, and looked for god in drugs and booze.

This trend lasted for quite some time. Then in my early twenties, my addictions began to take a toll on my mental health. As I blogged before, I ended up in a psych ward of a Catholic owned hospital, after a futile attempt at my own life. (Thank goodness!) While in the ward I was visited by a social worker who was also a Nun. She was very kind to me, and comforted me a great deal. We discussed my “spiritual” condition and I asked her some questions about her faith, which she readily answered. So upon release I contacted my friend who happened to be going through conversion classes at a Catholic Church nearby where we grew up. He invited me along to see what it was all about. I had always had a fascination with Catholicism, I then remembered going to Midnight Mass with an old girlfriend and how I was awed by the pageantry. So I felt like maybe it would be a great help. After a year and a half of classes, and the dating of a girl from a devout Catholic family, I was baptized and confirmed at Easter Vigil. After the relationship with the girl ended, and the priest whom I respected retired, (He admitted that the Old Testament was all story and not meant to be taken literally) I grew disillusioned with going to mass, and as quickly as it began I was no longer a practicing Catholic.

I then began to question the existence of a heavenly guardian again, but this time I was influenced by the astronomy class I was taking at school. I read of the Big Bang, and of star nurseries, where old materials from stars are reformed to create new ones. I also learned of how all the elements that make up our universe are contained within us. I saw a cycle that made more sense to me, then any mythical creator working with magic and clay to create us and our environment. This was the foundation of my agnosticism.

Again I was forced to make a choice of belief. Again it was over my drinking and drugging. I hit a bottom and ended up going to AA. I was desperate to find help, so when they (the other members) spoke about god and how he/she/it was the answer to not drinking, and the only way to find god was through the 12 steps. I tightly held my nose and drank the medicine. Soon I was sober,and things began to look up for me. I was experiencing acceptance from others like me. And it felt good. How could it not? I wasn’t drunk every night and hung over every morning! All the while I was being told this was all “gods will” for me. So I faked my beliefs, and held fast to the people around me. I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I kept my agnosticism inside.

I then moved from SLC to Chicago when I took my current job, and I really had a hard time getting involved in AA here. So eventually I stopped going to meetings. Well as you might guess, I relapsed and struggled in and out of AA for the next six years. All the while finding it harder and harder to believe in a god. And the more I struggled with my belief, the more I struggled with staying sober. Finally in 2003 I gave up the drinking and went back to AA. But this time I decided to do it on my own terms. I decided from day one that I wasn’t going to pray to any “higher power” or work the steps in the manner that most think they should be done. (belief in god) I soon found out that there were others that felt the same way as I, and some openly talk about their atheism. I still attend AA, but not to hear about god and the steps, but to be reminded of why I don’t drink anymore. The support of others who know what it is like to suffer in addiction is a very powerful thing, a “higher power” if you will. Having said all of this, I can honestly say that I am more at peace with myself, then I’ve ever been.

So I guess this is where I will own up to that Red A on the right hand side of this blog.
I am an atheist! I don’t believe in a god, nor can I prove there isn’t one. I’ll leave that up to you!
If you have the same struggles as I have had, don’t despair! You can be an atheist and stay sober, and do it with a smile!

I was born and raised in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, a beautiful place where the forests are thick, the lakes are clear and cold, and the roots of religion run deep. I don’t have a single complaint about my childhood, my dad was a cop, my mom a social worker. I’m certain that even if we had not been Catholic, we would have been raised with the same solid morals and sense of civic duty. My younger sister and I were not forced or pushed to go to church, we just went. It was just what you did, it was what everyone did and it seemed like the right thing to do.

Looking back now, I can see that there were three main Catholic doctrines that caused my trepidation, an unholy trinity, if you will. The first of these was presented to me in third grade, and is called “Confession”. This is the practice, if you’re unfamiliar, with entering a small booth and confessing your sins to your priest. To a nine year old, this would be a dark, scary place to enter, even without the prospect of being in there with a priest and having to tell him the things you’ve done wrong. You could go in on one side and be “face to face” or you could be a coward and go in on the other side and hide behind a screen while confessing. After you confess your sins to the priest, he gives you a few prayers to say as your penance and he gives you “absolution”, meaning that you have been cleansed from these sins.

This practice did not make ANY sense to me. Why, oh why, if God can hear our every thought and prayer, knows our intentions, and they were part of his plan, why the need for the middle man? Why do nine year olds have to tell a stranger that they lied and fought with their sister, why can’t God just hear them and forgive them himself? Of course, no one ever gave me a suitable answer.

This issue came up with me again, during Confirmation classes in 11th grade. “Confirmation” of course, is the practice of saying to the congregation…. “Hey, I’m an adult now (sorta) and I concur with the baptism that was imposed on me before I could say ‘original sin’”. I had gone to confession maybe three times in the meantime, and never by choice, but now they wanted me to go again before being confirmed.

The person who wanted me to go most fervently was my sponsor, Sister Maria. I’ve told quite a few of you about this part of my story. I went into the confessional just to please her, told the priest I was uncomfortable confessing anything, and he absolved me anyway. I thought this would satisfy her. It didn’t. She ended up telling me that I couldn’t “just pick and choose what I wanted to believe!” Well, I thought, yes I could… and someday soon I would, once I figured it out for myself. As an interesting side note, the young and beautiful Sister Maria eventually was forced by her Mother Superior to move away from my area because she had developed feelings for our priest, “Father What-a-Waste”. Ahhh, suppressing human nature, isn’t it grand? We both thought for awhile that I might have the calling to be a sister, fortunately the calling to be a mother was much stronger for me and I knew I couldn’t give up having a family. I did end up teaching CCD for two years, to fifth graders. Our main subject that year being the Seven Sacraments, go figure.

So anyway, on to the second thing about Catholicism that I could never grasp, “transubstantiation”. This doctrine, I would learn, was one of the main things that set Catholicism apart from other similar religions. What it actually means, is that when the priest blesses the wafers and wine of communion and says his little chant and waves his hands over them… they don’t just “symbolize” the body and blood of Christ anymore, they actually “become” the body and blood of Christ. I liked this sentence from wikipedia: “while all the appearances open to the senses or to scientific investigation were still those of bread, exactly as before.” So if you’re a rational person reading this, I really don’t even need to explain to you why I had such a problem with this.

The third Catholic doctrine, and the one that finally pushed me over the edge for good, was “Annulment”. I was married at 19 to a good Catholic boy, dropped out of college and had my first baby a year after that. I was well on my way to the life every girl dreams of… every girl born in the 1940’s anyway. The marriage was basically doomed before it even began, but it didn’t officially end for four years. The guy didn’t have two brain cells to rub together, and I knew I would never grow or learn anything as his wife. When I see him today, I think about how lucky I am that I wasn’t morally bound to spend the rest of my life with him, like his mother and father. He is not a mean person, he’s just not for me, and I’m just not for him. Since when do human beings not make mistakes, especially when they’re 19 and sex is involved?

Anyone who’s been through a divorce can tell you how emotionally crushing it is, how once it’s over your basically a husk of a person and it takes awhile to rise back up to the person you were. You’re physically drained, you’re mentally drained, it’s no walk in the park, even if it’s not a particularly ugly divorce. Church would actually be a nice place to hang out during this time, if you were welcome, that is. Unfortunately, once you divorce, you’re not really welcome anymore. They don’t say it in so many words, but it’s really quite obvious. As if you haven’t been through enough, to be welcome at church, you must also have your marriage “annulled”. And this term doesn’t mean, “we tried, it didn’t work out”. It means “It never happened!”. You literally have to site a reason, such as mental incompetence as to why this marriage should have never taken place and why it is now null and void. Well, I’m sorry, I had a child from this union and I refused to pretend it never happened. So, and here’s the kicker, in the church’s eyes, I am still married to this person, and on top of that you can’t take communion anymore if you don’t annul. Huh? I have never been to Catholic mass since, and never will again.

Fast forward about two years, I have remarried and had another child. My husband is Presbyterian, which seems like a nice enough religion. We were married in his church and our daughter was baptized there, and those are the only times we were ever there. I was virtually faith free for those two years, never even thinking about religion, it just wasn’t an issue. I was in a book club at the time, you know the 12 books for 1 cent type of deal, not the sit around and talk about what you read thing. If you didn’t send the card in each month saying you didn’t want anything, they would automatically send you the “Selection of the Month”. One day in the mailbox is a package… oopsie! Forgot to send the card back, what do we have here? I opened the box and discovered this book: “Don’t Know Much About the Bible” by Kenneth C. Davis. “Blech…” I thought to myself, a bible book, ick. I was too lazy to return it, so I just stuck it in my closet where it sat for probably another two years.

I am surprised, while reading others’ coming out stories, how often a book was part of the final conversion, and it’s no different for me. When I did finally decide to give the aforementioned book a chance, due to sheer boredom or whatever, it changed my life. The funny part is, it’s considered a “Christian book” and claims to be unbiased in it’s examination of the bible. To my eyes, however, it definitely leaned to the “this is a crock” school of thought, although maybe that’s not the authors fault, it’s just the inherent bullshit finally seeping through. I want to include here what the description of this book is on amazon.com as they put it better than I could:

this entertaining historical study will likely compel listeners to reach for their dusty copies of the world’s most-owned but least-understood anthology once again. And not simply because the author reminds us of the drama and intrigue, the tales of rape, impaling, and ethnic cleansing routinely found in its pages. Davis paints the larger historical context in which the Bible was written, providing a sense of the culture and environment in which the familiar stories came to life. Calling on new research and scholarship into the Bible’s composition, he provides fascinating background to dimly remembered stories that gives them renewed impact. Using a series of easy-to-follow questions and answers, he offers explanations about when and by whom the Bible was written; how the stories of other traditions influenced the Judeo-Christian teachings; where the Garden of Eden might have been located; why an earthquake may have played a part in the “walls tumbling down” at Jericho; why Jesus may not have said everything we think he did, and much more. He also points out that mistranslations from the original Hebrew have made their way into modern versions of the Bible, explaining where and how they occurred. Conceding that his program will anger some, as it challenges many cherished but mistaken assumptions about the Bible, Davis also hopes that listeners recognize that Christian belief and uncovering the truth are not at odds in this program, but rather that learning and wisdom, even when they reach unsettling conclusions, can ultimately complement faith.

Around this same time, after having had another child, I joined an online message board for stay at home moms. Among the advice on introducing solids and toilet training, there was a section on religion, and a subsection for Atheist and Agnostic Moms. Finally, I had found them! My kindred spirits! This was when I finally knew, I was an atheist. Gasp! I didn’t tell anyone, though, and my third child was also baptized Presbyterian. The forum had probably 200 members, and there were only 5 or 6 of us “heathens” but I learned and grew so much during that time. And also taught, sharing with them my own synopsis from that book I was so engrossed in. “Don’t Know Much About: Abraham”, “Don’t Know Much About: Moses” I titled my posts, and they loved them. Know thine enemy, right?

As I’ve become more knowledgeable over the years, I have become a more and more outspoken atheist. I will frequently slip things into conversation to make people think. I’m not totally confrontational, but if people who know I am a good person also know I am an atheist, maybe it will make them question the status quo a little bit. My personal myspace page (not the IPU page) has been a big part of my coming out, as well. It’s just like, “here I am, take me or leave me!” No old friends have deleted me, although I tend to use the IPU account for the more controversial bulletins. I have the Darwin fish on my vehicle, and my boyfriend has the evolve fish. I guess I should mention that I divorced for a second time after having a fourth child. However, you’ll be pleased to know that this child is neither baptized nor vaccinated, so that should tell you a little bit about my enlightened state of mind.

My boyfriend of three years is one of the first people that I “came out” to, and during our very first conversation. I guess I could tell we had a connection, and I wanted to put it out there right away so as not to waste my time, or his. Not only was he okay with it, he got on one knee and proposed to me after hearing it! He was also an out atheist and said he had never met a girl who was smart enough to be one, nor brave enough to admit it. This is by far the best relationship I have ever been in, it’s amazing how free you are to love and be yourself once you shed the shackles of guilt and shame associated with religion.

I guess the main thing for me is that no one is going to tell me what I can and can’t do, what is okay and what isn’t. That’s for ME to decide. I’ve made mistakes, lots of them, and have learned from them and become who I am because of them. I wouldn’t have it any other way. As a mom and a nursing student, and just as a human being, I have devoted my life to the compassionate care of others. I want people to realize that you don’t have to believe in an invisible dictator to do good things, you don’t need fear as a motivator to live a good life.

Thanks for listening.

You, know – I’m sure infants are born agnostic and apolitical – at least until the indoctrination begins in earnest. I was born to a Irish Catholic Republican Mum & and an lapsed Presbyterian Democrat Dad. Consequently, I had to find me own way. I voted for Goldwater in ’64, Nixon in ’68 and McGovern in ’72.

My Dad said I was born with a lead foot, though.

And I was born with callouses on the fingers of my right hand.

I’m a Recovered Catholic.I converted to politics. I watch talking head TV shows on Sunday mornings… Soon after I decided I was an unbeliever I quit the church choir. I still enjoyed the singing – but I kept losing my place in the hymnal. I found myself always reading ahead to see if I agreed with the next verse.

I have no concept of a supernatural being. During my years at Chaminade, the local Catholic High School in Dayton, I was an active participant in the mandatory Religion classes. I asked questions. As time went by the answers from the Marianist priests and brothers only brought up more doubts. I didn’t realize it then, but I was grappling with the circular arguments that religionists always fall back upon to convey consistency when attempting to present “proofs” for their many assertions. Meanwhile, I began to read Joseph Lewis in “The Age of Reason” Newsletter. A secular Jew and a populist, Lewis wrote a slew of books which I still have, dealing with everything from Biblical errancy to the concepts of Freethought that underpin our Constitution, to the grand legacy of Thomas Paine, The Father of The Revolution, to the shame of the Franco regime and the barbaric ritual of circumcision.

I made the clean break when I walked out of choir practice in my home church at age 19, in 1961, ‘cuz the pastor changed all the music for services to Gregorian Chant. I said, “But, Father, it’s difficult to sing. And \nit’s not melodic, or pleasant to listen to or to sing!” The priest sneered and barked at me, “You’re not here for your own pleasure. You’re here to give glory to God!” I responded, “OK, Father – then YOU sing this sh*t!” I dropped the hymnal at his feet and walked out.

Like many young people still putting their feet under their parents’ table while attending University of Dayton (another parochial institution) I resisted bringing up my new status as a fledgling unbeliever. I continued to leave the house on Sunday mornings at the time of the High Mass. My parents, who attended an earlier Mass didn’t realize that I had left the choir and the church. I spent an hour every Sunday walking and exploring the various streets of the larger neighborhood beyond where our home was located.

Two other tenors left with me that evening. Within a few months the all-male choir had to be integrated with women for the first time because there were no males left to sing the tenor parts.

The pastor, a sullen, prune-faced conservative, who led a crusade to restore “blue laws” (no Sunday sales of anything) in Dayton during the late ’50s and early ’60s, was promoted to Monsignor. After I had left home, he took note of a letter I had written to the local newspaper denouncing his crusades to impose censorship (Playboy magazine and blue movie bans) as well as his continuing forays into curtailing Sunday shopping. My letter noted that many church folks were opposed to gambling, but they didn’t interfere with his lucrative Friday night bingo game. He called my younger brother aside one Sunday when he was serving Mass and harshly declared, “Young Man, your brother is a DEVIL!”

My brother was shaken to his core. He ran home and repeated the incident to my parents who, though moderately religious, had learned to take Monsignor Sherman with a grain of salt. I guess they did their best to reassure the kid brother that the opinions of an aging prude in a clerical collar were no more worthy than his brother’s or their own.

My interest in countering the barrage of religious assumptions and references in popular culture in the ’60s led me to read Madalyn Murray O’Hair and Bertrand Russell, along with Ayn Rand.

My wife and I have remained married and in love going on 46 years this September of 2007. Our two sons were raised with no religious inculcation. We never go to any church except for weddings & funerals… Yes, we’re pretty freakin‘ happy.

Recommended: Any books by Richard Dawkins or Carl Sagan