God, or something like it (How I became an atheist)

I grew up Catholic. Mom would take me to church every Sundays and I would obnoxiously sing the names on the plaques of the walls to the tune of whatever hymn was being played. Singing was the only good thing about church. I loved the organ and even the excessive vibrado was comforting, somehow.

First communion was torture. I still remember having to wear that little virginal white dress for confession. I was already behind schedule and I did not want to go. It was like pulling teeth. I'm pretty sure I lied in confession, with the priest on the other side. To me it was like taking a test, and I just wanted to pass. Or maybe I just wanted to drop out. I didn't believe in sin.

I didn't see the point of Sunday school. I didn't fit in, and I refused to learn. I remember reading about Noah's Ark. I didn't believe one bit of it. Maybe I felt that God didn't really care, since things were so horrible at home. Dad would spank me with his belt pretty regularly and there was a lot of yelling. Sometimes he'd pull hard on my hair or my ears to straighten me up. If parents are your first exposure to God, it didn't make a very good impression on me.

Mom would make me say a prayer every night as she stood over me to make sure I did them. I still remember this prayer. Dear Jesus. Make me a good girl, Jesus. Thank you, Jesus. Goodnight, Jesus. I love you, Jesus. Amen. I really wanted to believe I was a good girl, as I made the sign of the cross.

We stopped going to church when I was 10. I was relieved that they no longer forced me to go. I figured they gave up on trying to make me believe in such things. Even so, I felt it socially unacceptable not to believe in God, so I went to my friend's First Baptist Church. I got involved with youth groups and various Christian functions. I remember the concerts and sing songs; how different it was to Catholic hymns. This was also where my dad would have gone to church, if he went. Oh, he went sometimes.

By middle school, I was hanging out at the youth groups every weekend. There was a place for kids to play arcade games, basketball and all kinds of stuff. My clearest memory of this time was hanging out in the parking lot and trying to squish open a ketchup packet with our feet. Life was meaningless like that.

I went to Christian concerts and socials. I saw a Christian pianist play once. I bought his cassette and he signed it for me. My parents took me to see Billy Graham, but it was so packed, all I could see was his big head on a screen. It was such a bore.

When I was about 8, I got "possessed" by a homemade Ouija board. At that time, I was pretty in to how-to books, and I checked them out at the elementary school library every week. One book had an interesting project that involved paper, pen, scissors and a cup. I would write each letter of the alphabet and cut them up into squares. I would arrange these square letters in to one big square and I would use an upside down cup for the Ouija board cursor. I had never heard of an Ouija board at the time. But I played with my new invention every day. I would have my friend do it with me, and sometimes my mom, too. But mostly, I did it on my own.

My obsession worried my parents. I really thought it worked and the cup would move on its own. The Ouija board spirit was named Pam. I began talking to my hands and referring to it as the devil. That really freaked my parents out. That really got a reaction out of them. So I did it more. I began to have nightmares and wake up in sweats. I started to become delusional. Mom took me to the priest and asked if he could exorcise me right in front of the crowd after church let out. I was embarrassed and wanted to crawl away.

One night, mom and dad were packing quietly and then lead me to the car. It was different because mom sat with me in the back seat. She never sat in the back. No one would tell me where we were going. They drove me to a brick building, and took me in. It was a hospital for kids... A special hospital. They took me up the elevators, and into my own room and said goodbye. I was stuck there for weeks. I didn't know why I was there. My window overlooked the cement ground below and more brick building. It was depressing. They stuck needles in my arm. I had to drink piss colored medicine and refused it. I would scream and cry and writhe away. I was so difficult that they had to call my mom to come help me take this vile liquid. She helped calm me and I swallowed. The only respite was the craft room. I would cut and paste and draw as long as I could.

When I finally got out of there, they took me to another church. They thought this would help heal me. They were friendly and let me do crossword puzzles. They sent me their newsletters in the mail for a long time, so I could do more crosswords and games. It was the only thing I liked about the church, and just like that, they decided I was healed. The church saved me.

The church did not save me, and I did not go crazy. It is a difficult subject for me to talk about. I can't believe this even happened to me, it was so long ago. But it was a result of my parent's superstitions and overreactions. Dad called the elementary school library and asked for them to get rid of that how-to book. Needless to say, it was the last how-to book I ever read.

By highschool, I knew all the youth group activity did not make me convinced anymore than I was already, which isn't saying much. I knew I was only fooling myself. What good is following God, loving Him, believing in Him, when I couldn't even love or believe in myself? I vowed that from that day on, I would try to love myself first. I've gotten sidetracked along the way, but I remain true to my word. God does nothing for me. Only I can help that.

Eastern philosophy really spoke to me. They were ideas I was already thinking about and coming to terms with on my own so that by the time I read about it, I was delighted to see that I wasn't the only one out there who thought in this way and that, in fact, there was a whole philosophy for how I think! By college, Buddhism was a passion, but I could never know enough, and finally, I decided that Buddhism and the middle path was "too hard" to follow and gave up. Spirituality did not exist for me in my life.

Religion is an important balancing factor for a lot of people. For atheists, I believe that something needs to replace religion in order to achieve the same kind of balance. Philosophical basis replaces religious faith and for me, I had never delved into the philosophical or thought about it enough to come to terms with a good concept of life, ethics and value. Today, it is time to pick up where I left off from college and "gave up". It is time to reexamine the philosophical. This work is never done.