Firstly, I should probably clarify that I grew up in Australia, and that I’m still only 18 years old, so this is all quite recent.

My parents raised me I an environment sort of outside of religion. I knew it existed, vaguely, but didn’t really know much about it. Whenever I asked my parents if they were religious they always responded that my grandparents were, which I always took to mean that they were, too; it took me a long time to decode that sneaky misdirection.

One of my first experiences with religious belief in real life was in primary school in around year four or so. I asked my friends what they believed happened to them after they died and declared that I believed in a form of reincarnation, without the notion of karma – when you die, you black out, and then wake up again as some other random new person. One of my friends said she believed in Heaven. I thought this was downright fascinating. Really? People believed in Heaven in real life? I’d always thought that was just something people did on TV, like how in American TV shows you would always see those fire hydrants, or how kids in TV shows were always going out and kissing and stuff like my friends and I never did. It was completely honestly the first time I had ever met someone in real life who believed in Heaven.

My next exposure occurred when I was in year five. My parents planned me to go to a Catholic high school, beginning in year 6. I should clarify that religious high schools sort of worked differently where I lived. There were basically three different kinds of schools you could send your kids to – public schools, which were cheap but not very good, secular private schools, which were wonderful but expensive as hell, and catholic schools, which were somewhat expensive, but not prohibitively so, and of pretty good quality. So it wasn’t like some kind of cultish school where all the students were from fundie families – I knew heaps of people at school who were agnostics or atheists like me. It wasn’t a big thing at all. (Of course, my primary school was public.) It was sort of a sign of my family’s utter apathy to religion that my grandparents on my mother’s side were ostensibly Irish protestants and yet they never had a single objection to me going to a Catholic school.

So, anyway, that was the next time I really encountered religion. I had to have an interview with the vice principal before I entered. Beforehand, my mother took me aside and murmured that if they asked I should say that I went to church once a week. Nowadays I’m not certain that she was entirely serious but at the time I took her at her word. And it confused me. I had no idea why I would say that I went to church when I didn’t. What was the point? I just didn’t understand at all. In the end, the subject never came up, and I got into the school.

Of course, the school still was Catholic, so there were some religious things. Every morning in homeroom we’d say prayer, although in later years we didn’t have to participate if we didn’t want to and honestly kids just mostly used it as an excuse to dely the beginning of classes anyway. Once a term we would have a whole school mass which we would have to attend, but we weren’t obliged to do the prayers or take the eucharist. And we had some religious education classes, but not many, and they ended up being general motivational or philosophy classes just as often.

In the beginning, I just basically went along with it all. I said the prayers and did the sign of the cross. (Once the teacher made us do it over because I’d done it with my left hand which apparently wasn’t allowed!) I took the eucharist. I didn’t question any of it, but neither did I really pay attention to any of it.

In year eight, I was in one of those classes. My earlier apathy had morphed into something more like irritation, and I was pretty scornful at the idea of spending so much time on religion. But it never really occurred to me that I didn’t believe in it until one day. We were studying something in RE class that couldn’t be justified. It wasn’t philosophy. It wasn’t motivational. It wasn’t even interesting. It was something along the lines of the places St. Peter went to preach the gospel – something completely unnecessary to non-Christians and almost completely unnecessary even to those. (Funnily enough, the class was taught by the same vice principal I’d had an interview with it before!) I was just sitting in class one day complaining mentally about how ridiculous this class was when it hit me – I wasn’t Christian. It sounds stupid that it took me so long but I’d honestly never thought about it. My parents said my grandparents were Christian so they were, right? So I…well, no, that didn’t make me Christian. I’d never thought I was. I had, quite genuinely, NEVER thought about it.

So for a while I kinda lived as a quiet atheist. I made fun of the stupider aspects of religion, but so did my Catholic best friend. Like I said, there, it was kind of a non-issue. But, unfortunately, that was not the end of my story.

Some time a little after that I discovered Wicca. I was always very interested in fantasy and the idea of magic, so I fell in love with it instantly. I say ‘the idea of magic’ deliberately, because while I loved reading and talking about it, the actual depth of my belief was…limited. It was one of those strange things where I liked the idea of it so I pretended that it was true, dismissing as irrelevant the fact that I didn’t really believe in it. On one level I was aware, I think, but I never admitted it outright. And my disbelief showed itself in other places. I’d to psychic tests and routinely get completely unremarkable results. I would get tarot cards whose findings beared no relation to reality whatsoever. I’d cast spells that would have no effect. And I never really went out of my way to do any of the above – although I claimed to believe in all this sort of woo, when it actually came to casting spells, nine times out of ten I couldn’t be bothered. If I truly believed that these things worked, wouldn’t I have tried harder to use and rely on them? I’m grateful I didn’t, however. I hear many stories about completely sane and rational people being taken up by this sort of thing due to all sorts of fallacies like confirmation bias, and while I’m not sure why I didn’t ever really get taken by that I’m glad I didn’t.

So I just sort of drifted away from it. I read it for a while and declared I was Wiccan. But, no, that wasn’t a proper ceremony – I’d do one on the next festival. Oh, wait, I forgot. Well, the next one. Ahh, but, my family’s home tonight and if I disappeared for a while they’d ask why and it’d be embarrassing to explain. (See? Even then I kind of got that the belief was stupid.) Next time. Oh, but now it’s too late, and I really wanted to do it outside… And so it goes.

And that’s really how I became an atheist – I just sort of drifted out of Wicca. For a while after my parents would occasionally bring it up but soon I guess it became obvious I was no longer interested.

But my real first contact with the atheist community came in year ten. A year or so earlier I’d seen a book while glancing through the philosophy section of a bookshop – ‘The God Delusion’ by Richard Dawkins. It seemed very popular, and it immediately attracted my interest for saying outright something I’d believef for a long time. However, I was too embarrassed to ask for it, so I just sort of let it go. But in year 10 I did work experience at a library, and on one of my breaks I came across that book and decided to read it while I ate my lunch. It was so interesting! There were so many ideas I’d never heard of! (To give an idea of how truly sheltered I was, when Dawkins mentioned the argument against evolution about it being ‘statistically improbable’ that this could happen by chance, I grimaced and acknowledged that this was something I’d wondered about myself!) And I’d never even realized there was such a controversy about all of this! By this stage I was a lot more aware of the Christian majority and my place with regards to it, but all these stories about what it was like for atheism in America was just horrible! What appealed to me most of all, though, I think, was how logical it was. I had always valued intelligence and rationality, but to find an entire movement – one I had agreed with for basically my entire life – devoted to it was, well, incredible. I was hooked!

Somehow, I ended up searching atheism on the internet as well and came across Ebon Musings, a website devoted to essays on atheism. This was even better, if possible! The arguments here were just so logical, so well-structured, so irrefutable, it was like a breath of fresh air! Even now if I ever feel myself overwhelmed by the anti-intellectualism of the world I can just re-read one of Ebon’s articles and remember that yes, the world is still good in places.

As for how I came out to my parents, I’m not totally sure, but I think it goes back to my mum finding The God Delusion in my backpack and asking about it. I think she was a little impressed, and became quite interested in reading it, too. After that it was like the unwritten rule of silence was broken and we all discussed atheistic ideas pretty openly, with the possible exception of my younger brother who honestly just seemed apathetic about the entire subject. My friends probably just found out in the natural order of things, as I did about their religious leanings, and that was that.

And now? I follow several atheist blogs and am proud to consider myself a member of the atheist community. My atheist identity is very important to me, as are my skeptic, humanist, and rationalist identities. I had an extremely good experience in coming to see myself as an atheist and out myself to others, and for that I’m very, very grateful. I only wish that every atheist could have had a childhood like mine. (Except maybe for the painfully boring RE lessons, maybe?)

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 am not able to be classified as an atheist in light of such ideas, but this is irrelevant in any case. At any rate I do not limit myself to being “godless” or “atheist”, as these are very much not any better than what religions provide us. My only concern is what is here right now, this very moment, and discovering all that I am able to of such things. Any study, as long as it provides a means to Truth, Knowledge, and an increase to my Being is a valid study at this point. Fantastic or not, religions have spoken of what we call scientific truths for thousands of years. We quite simply do not see it typically these days because of all the shrouding the ancients did upon the words and stories. Be sure though, that as I conduct my investigations, I am focused upon science heavily. The only difference between the science I use and the secular society, is that I boldly study EVERYTHING under this light, rather than a common tendency I see of casting things off as “superstition”, “myth”, “occult”, “fantasy”, “illusion”. For anything that exists, of which everything which we can refer to exists in some fashion, there is something there and the science I use is all about finding out what is happening, how it is happening, and why it is happening.

Now on to my story…

I grew up in a home which half advocated Christianity and of which the other half advocated free thinking and self-discovery. For the first many years of my life I supported Christianity as I was told horrifying stories that if I did not I would be banished to Hell. Feeling oppressed and not actually gaining any insight to the questions which raised in my mind from the free thinking avocation I had been receiving, I decided to break with church all together. A decision which would prove to lead me down a long and complex road of the human mind and the universe itself.

I remained silent to my Christian mother for many years as it was to be necessary for me to have formulated my thoughts well on religious manners before speaking of such departures with the church.

My first inclination was towards Wicca. This was inspired after a meeting with now one of my most treasured friends who is Wiccan. I never actually became a practitioner as the religion seemed to me just as void as the one I was looking to leave, but it did leave certain marks upon my mind. For the first time I had researched a faith outside of my own, and I started to notice commonality between faiths. As I was only 15 and inexperienced I did not formulate much theory at that time though.

My next steps were towards researching anything and everything I could get information on for religions and spirituality both common and hidden. Druidism, Buddhism, Zen, Taoism, Masonry, general Pagan thought, and so much more were all on the list of research.

Around the age of 17 though, I had a brief encounter with Satanism (like any proper rebellious teen would go to when seeking a departure with Christianity), which left another mark upon me. This was the first time I had encountered literature on practical magic. I very quickly saw the commonality this “magic” had with all the other faiths and how it also had very distinct psychological characteristics.

During this encounter with Satanism, another important happening occurred, I began reading some of the myth of the Hindu faith. When I read the story of Arjuna and noticed how it is virtually identical in every way to that of the story of Moses, my mind began to race. My first discourse was to say that surely the Jews or the Hindi plagiarized. As the study of myth, magic, and religion continued however, I found it quite improbable that plagiarism was the solution. All of this investigation did depart me from Christianity for a time, as it was simply a vague concern to all other research.

Having had all this prior experience, I managed next to find Carl Jung and Quantum Physics. Jung’s theory of Synchronicity and the strange facets of Quantum starting giving me enough of a foundation for me to form my own belief system, which I had been searching after for literally years by this time. I was just as lost for a time after finding this foundation as I had ever been. This being due to stepping into a territory of self-responsibility I had never had before. I was suddenly responsible for the contents of my mind and how I viewed the world and I finally knew this fact!

What ended up developing (to hurry this story along a little bit), was a theory which is somehow both devout to deities of all varieties and at the same moment atheist. How this works is as follows: 1) God is but a title to the very real and verifiable objective truths of the universe. 2) The exact name of this title (e.g. God or otherwise), is irrelevant until much other work has been gone through. 3) Based on the previous two points the idea of God and the Universe itself are identical and either name can be used based upon one’s personal preference. This theory is steeped deeply in mysticism and spirituality, magic, and what is perhaps most important of all science! The only difference between the science of so much of the world and the variety I use is on a matter of empiricism. I accept Jung’s theory of empiricism, meaning that I accept the subjective experience which I have as a valid form of study. The goal is objectivity of course, but the system of science I use gives recognition to the imperfection of my perceptions, and that by also studying these imperfections I may get closer to actual objective truth which I would hope is the goal of any scientist!

My first day in a Southern Baptist church was 2 weeks after I was born. I was always a bit shaken when I saw how emotional people got at certain times, but I was always bit more calm than anyone else. I stopped going to any services when I left home – I always had something more important to do. I went to my old church for my best friend’s wedding, and all my great uncle (a deacon) said to me was that I needed to cut my long hair. I never went back. When my sister started studying Wicca, I tried to find a religion that was internally self-consistent – the closest I came was Buddhism, which I found as more of a philosophy than a religion. I got bored of staring at walls (meditating) so I forgot the whole thing. I wanted to find a Wiccan get-together, as I have heard they have some wild parties, then I found the Jacksonville Atheist Meetup and went and found I was an atheist and among friends. :)

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).

Sometimes memes can give you some motivation to write about something that should have been written a long time ago.

I think deconversion stories are important. I think they can be helpful to those rolling on the edge of atheism, scared or uncomfortable to take those last steps. The internet is a great tool for people looking for like minds and helpful information; I wish it had been around when I was reverting back to my birth state of atheism.

So, since I am “slow like that” sometimes, here is my story of losing religion.

I was born an atheist, in a catholic hospital here in Salt Lake City. Shortly thereafter I was taken to New York, where my family is from, to be baptized into the Catholic Church. I have godparents and all. My mom has never been baptized anything, my grandmother is a non practicing Episcopalian, and I don’t know what my father was. I grew up going to church with my Italian grandfather. I was a very good catholic. I went to church, I went to catechism, I studied hard, I passed my tests and I did my first communion. I sang in the choir (really I can’t sing, I kinda feel bad for them for that). I said my prayers every night “now I lay me…” and I paid the money my grandfather gave me to put in the basket.

During my youth, since my mom wasn’t stuck on one religion she let me go to Sunday school and church with my Mormon friends sometimes too. That was one religion I always found loony, but entertaining.

Around the time I was to start preparing for my confirmation I had mostly stopped going to church. Pretty much because I was too lazy to spend my Sunday doing that.

When I got to high school in the late 80’s I had a friend who began asking me about the Catholic Church. He became interested in converting to Catholicism and he wanted me to help him. I knew this meant I would need to get confirmed. I began that road, it included a lot of reading, including, finally the bible, cover to cover, not because the church wanted me to, they really didn’t, but because it was important to me. Somewhere along the way, I started reading the road signs. Not the big jesus billboards they want you to see, but the little sticks with the mile numbers on them. I finally had to tell my friend that I wouldn’t help him because I couldn’t be catholic any more, it didn’t make any rational sense.

I then began a search to find out who and what I was. I went to many churches and studied many different religious texts. Not a one of them struck me as “real”. I continued my journey on into college, pretty sure by this time I was an agnostic at least.

In my last years of high school and early college, I fell in with the “Goth” crowd. We went to the local “Goth” hang outs (The Ritz, The Palladium and others). There my journey took me on a tour of Wiccan. My best girlfriend is a witch. I have spoken of her here. In the end though I thought that crap too. My best guy friend is a gay return LDS missionary, nothing like a little diversity.

During college, part of my studies included history and how it related to theater. That got me turned on to studying how religion and history related to each other.

I finally got it.

I knew I was an atheist by this time, and I finally got why. It was like a huge light bulb had been turned on. I understood why we have religion and how it was once a necessary evil that helped people try to explain the unexplainable in the only way they knew, but that it was never real or true. Now though, we know how the sun rises and how earthquakes occur, I am still in awe at how religion is still so important in our society, and continues. Money and power perhaps.

I met my husband my last year of school. We met at a birthday party for a mutual friend. We had nothing in common, except we cared for each other. There were two things I had to be clear with him from the beginning if ours was a relationship that would work, I was an atheist and wouldn’t change that, and I didn’t want children and wouldn’t change that either, so if he had a problem with either of those he was barking up the wrong tree.

We got married in April 1996. It was important to him to get married in the Catholic Church (because it was important to his parents). I could pretend; (um, hello, theater major). Since I had once been baptized in the church it was pretty easy, surviving the weekend long marriage retreat at the nunnery was not. It involved a lot of eye rolling and tongue biting.

Then came the wedding. Every god promise that was made had my girlfriends in my line giggling; I still think I owe them for that.

Sometime after that I told my family what I was. I didn’t sit them down or anything, it just kind of “came up”. My grandmother still thinks that it isn’t possible to be an atheist because “everyone believes in god” and my grandfather is in denial. My mom doesn’t really give a rat’s ass. It just isn’t worth arguing about with them.

I am like most atheists I know, in person and online, we are good people. We pay our taxes, we take care of our families, we donate to charity and we do these things in the name of Jesus Christ amen. Oh no wait, sorry Mormon Church flash back for a moment. We do these things not from fear of a deity that isn’t really there, or because if we don’t, Santa won’t come and give us presents. We do them because it is good for society, and it is good for ourselves. Our lives like any other can be snuffed out in a moment. We know there isn’t anything else, so we have to make this time great.

I grew up pretty much secular/agnostic, but essentially went with the flow growing up. Looking back, I remember reciting the Pledge of Allegiance in school (public) and now resent it. I never gave any thought to religion or spirituality until I started doing drugs (namely LSD) in college (Art Institute of Fort Lauderdale). I’ll add that I haven’t traveled down that road in quite a long time.

Religion was always a non-issue up until that point.

I’ve dabbled in mostly new age and pagan stuff; Wicca and Qabala for the most part. With all seriousness I was considering Qabala to be a system I could believe in, down to getting the robes, athame, and accessories. Then, I met my wife and all that dwindled away being replaced by agnosticism.

My in-laws are church-goers and I went to Christmas with them for a few years (Methodist). I didn’t care for it and knew it was a bunch of crap, my wife knew I felt that way, but I just didn’t care about church. It didn’t matter whether I went or not. I was just there.

Later, the in-laws decided they wanted to change their denomination to Episcopal (after some “goings-on” within the Methodist church there). My wife wasn’t happy. She wasn’t angry, she just didn’t like the change. Anyway, there was a little bit of friction regarding this “change”. Needless to say it all kinda ticked me off, I guess because of the whole situation in general, and I said, “To hell with all of it, no more.”

Since. I have only gone to church once, and that was a Christening, which I would not attend today. Note: I had not “come out” to anybody yet, but only in general conversations whereas I never said: “I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in God.”

A couple years down the road my father-in-law is over and we are partaking of some beers (I rather enjoy having a few beers with him and discussing politics and current events). Most of what I remember is just flat out telling him “I’m an atheist. I don’t believe…”, after getting into some debate about a secular issue. His answer was “I feel sorry for you.” My retort: “I feel sorry for you.” And I honestly do. That was the first time I ever came “out” and told somebody. Him and I are still on speaking terms and we still love to engage in political discussions. He’s pretty open-minded about that. Though he’ll never change his stance as a true-blue Blue Dog Democrat.

I might add that the whole religious issue arising within the political spectrum in the run-up to the 2000 presidential election really got me riled up. This prompted me to find out what these particular people stood for. And I found dirty truths that drove me further to disregard such jack-asses and…to tell the truth, this (religion and politics/separation of church and state), above all else drives me ideologically.

NOT whether a god exists or not, I could give a rat’s ass about that debate. I get so incensed reading blogs written by ex-Christians debating with Christians about the existence of god. What the hell is to be proven? Or disproven? One thing remains untouchable: faith. If one wants to believe in some fairy-tale, then so be it. One other thing remains untouchable: Don’t frickin’ shove it down my throat. Because I am free to believe what the hell I damn well please to believe.

Sorry, getting heated. Why am I getting heated? Because Christians (and I am lumping them altogether) do not see the cultural implications. They don’t see that the “foundation” of religion has influenced almost every aspect of society. That their inaction and complacency enables the problems that arise from putting trust into the hands of “faithful” politicians. I don’t know how to put it any other way. When our president starts speaking in code about a “crusade”, that should tell you something unless your brain-dead about history. When our dumb-ass president says “I looked into his eyes and saw a kindred spirit.” (speaking of Putin), the same man who said “I trust God speaks through me. Without that, I couldn’t do my job.” Who does he think he is? The messiah? Seems some people do.

I’m not that old, a little under 17. I don’t remember a lot of my childhood, a few little patches of memory up until I was about nine of ten. I suppose I never believed in god, although my memory kicks in at nine, at this point I was a little scared because I didn’t get that ‘special feeling’ in church that people always talked about. I promptly freaked out, prayed as often as I could, carried a small bible with me, and generally did all the things good catholics do.

Eventually, in the Summer of 2002, we moved to a town called Visalia, California. My mother, both a Catholic and Republican, took me to a shop called ‘The Crystal Barn’. As you probably guessed, I was stunned at all these ‘alternative religion’ books. I picked up a few, and that started my spiritual marching. I guess it was just excellent timing, because we had just recently gotten a half decent computer, and my parents were letting me use the internet more and more. I studied Wicca, the LeVeyan Satanism (more accurately called Humanism with a dash of supernatural), and other various assorted religions.

For a time I went under the title of Wicca, my views at the time drawn more to the supernatural. Fast forward to the Winter of 2004, I had moved to Reno, Nevada within the last two months or so. I had heard the term Atheist mentioned once or twice, and my faith in a God and Goddess had wained severely. I can’t exactly say when I started calling myself an Atheist, but call myself I did, and for a while it was fine.

In mid-2005, my parents started going back to church again, and they signed me up for Sunday school (which, oddly enough, was on a Monday). Needless to say, I wasn’t very pleased. I guess it was around October, and my mother had picked me and my sister up. Somehow, the topic turned to Creationism, and I mentioned how I thought it was a load of crap, and had no scientific backing. My mother then asked a very direct question, do you believe in Evolution. Of course, all this is a dried up version, I mentioned that it made more sense, and there were lots of tears on her side. We got home and My mother, my father, and I all sat down and had a talk. Needless to say, there were a few more tears, and a few angry glares.

It is now mid-way through 2007, I am a proud Atheist who can hold his own in a debate with a Theist, be it about not having a god, or about my belief in Evolution. I suppose that if I had continued on my ‘dying to believe in god’ trend, I might not be in this world right now. But I didn’t, and I realized that is no way to view life. It is the only one I have, and I am damned well going to try to enjoy every minute of it, not spend it hunched over praying the next one is better.

I was always a very religious person. I was born into a Sicilian-Catholic family. I went to Catholic school and was the kid that always had questions on religion because so much of it didn’t make sense. But I was brainwashed very well and bought into it 100%.

Then the teen years hit. I met this wonderful Southern Baptist boy at 15. He brought me to his church. I loved it, but now more questions came up. How come his church puts down what my church believes in? Why do we have different beliefs? So I begin bible study with a friend who is Evangelical Christian. She teaches me so much and shows me all the great things God does and all the things I need to do to go to heaven. All these years of being a Catholic I thought I was going to heaven if I was good, then I learn it has nothing to do with being good, it has to do with saying a prayer that I swear to believe in Jesus as my savior.

So I head on down to my Catholic Church with bible in hand and full of knowledge of the bible. I talk to a priest at my church. I show him all this evidence, and ask tons of questions on why are these beliefs so different. I want to go to heaven, not hell, and I had to be sure I was making the right choice. After all I have to say to this priest he just has one thing to tell me, “If you believe in the bible, you can’t be a Catholic. It’s a choice you have to make.” A choice I have to make?!?!?! Isn’t there someone who can tell me “THIS IS THE ABSOLUTE TRUTH.” Oh, there are tons of different denominations that told me that as I set on my path to find the right church.

I became Southern Baptist till I later found out after being married to a Calvary Chapel Christian that having a denomination is a bad thing, that those are religions, not God! So I end up in a non-denominational church. Whew! I was safe now! I’m for sure going to heaven! Unfortunately my parents acted as though I was this criminal who sold my soul to, well, I’m not sure what they thought but they acted like I was a trader. Of course the people in the church told me that sometimes becoming a true Christian means sacrifices like losing one’s family. Well, I didn’t lose them, but they were hurt which really didn’t feel good to me. But I was learning what God wanted and he was my father too!!! Which father do I listen to?!?!? Ugh!!!

From Calvary Chapel to Harvest. You know Harvest? It’s Greg Laurie’s Church. He’s the Calvary Chapel run-away because he had better ideas I guess. All was going great. I had my daughter safely in a nice church. Oh, don’t get me wrong, she was baptized Catholic because I had to please my parents and I had to be sure she was safely going to heaven no matter who was right or wrong. Then one day something happened to me. I was now 28. Big trouble ahead. I realized I’m a lesbian. That’s another story in itself! But it took me 10 years to come out as a lesbian due to my fear of the lord and going to hell.

Now my relationship with God gets weird. How can I love a woman when God doesn’t want me to love a woman? How can I stay in a marriage and cause my husband to suffer when I was unable to have sex with him. It literally made me sick to my stomach! God insisted that I submit to him, but submitting made me ill! So he suffered. I ended up divorced of course. Harvest was too Evangelical for me and I left the church. Oh, I was still a very strong Christian, but now I conveniently realized the bible was just being interpreted wrong because it doesn’t talk about loving lesbian relationships, only about sex. So I chose to believe that God loved lesbians and I can be a Christian and a lesbian. After all, if God is a loving god, what is wrong with love?

At this point in life I was with a woman who is very Pagan oriented. Pagan? Wait, I heard of them in the bible! Weren’t they the bad people? That’s a religion?!?! You mean I left one out?!?! So into Wicca classes I go. Oh my f*cking god, this is like Catholic Church only with tons of gods AND goddesses! It was at this point my mind said, something is just way wrong here. People make up this crap! ALL OF IT! There is no god or goddess! There is us, humans, and the earth.

My studies turned to where religions come from. I learned it’s all made up. It’s all stories told so many times from thousands of years before a so-called savior called Jesus. These are all the same stories with different names. Religions evolved from ideas!!! Everyone conveniently made them fit their own lives. I went through a lot of heartaches losing my god. I felt very alone for a while. Mainly because after having the thought that someone was always with me, always listening to me, no matter what the world had in store for me, I thought he was there. Now I had no one but me when things went bad. It was scary!

BUT, guess what!?! I found ME! I was “born again” into knowing that I have control over me and my life and no one else does. Not any god and not any human. I had this new saying I love, “If it’s going to be, it’s up to me!” I found out I am a god or goddess. I am able to help others, save others and do good in this world. I get to make decisions by using my very own conscience. I get to be proud of the good I do and know I did it because I chose to do it.

My mission in life is to help wake up everyone to the dangers of theocracy and how it enslaves them. I think just about everyone who knows me knows I’m a Lesbian and an Atheist and I’m very proud of me! It was a long ride but I made it here safely, thank me!

I was Born from a human, became a Born Again Christian, “Came out” as a lesbian then as an Atheist and now I’m Born Again Me!