Some people love to tell stories about how they found their religion and how it's changed their lives... but I'm a little different – I like to talk about how I lost my religion. And no, it did not spawn from some tragic accident or incredibly scary story... it was all because of poop.
So before you dismiss me and think, "Poop? How vulgar!" I promise to keep the poop jokes at a minimum. Now let's get this potty started (bad pun intended and I apologize).
When I was just a wee bit younger, twelve or so, I was riding in the backseat of my mother's car on our way to a store. This particular car ride was not much different than most of my car rides with my mother, except the whole time I was praying. Yup, in the backseat on my way to Walmart (which should be enough reason to seek a higher power for support), I decided to pray-- and pray hard.
Right before I went with my mother on this errand I was in the bathroom. Unlike the somewhat ordinary car ride, this was no ordinary bathroom experience. I, twelve-year-old me, clogged the toilet. I'll refrain from any crappy (hah!) details but just know elementary school did not prepare me for the drama I was experiencing in that bathroom.
After a lot of fighting and a lot of losing, my mother was calling my name to leave. So I left, but not before I saw the toilet tides almost break the rim.
I ran. I buckled up. I prayed.
I prayed to the higher power that it would all go away. The water would recede into the pipes and that I would be saved from any humiliation. A few minutes into my prayer fest my mother got a call and informed me that I had flooded the bathroom. I was flushed (last one).
That was the very moment that I decided -- I do not believe in a higher power.
It's childish, I know. I'm not telling this story to belittle religion or make fun of it, I'm simply making it known where my shift began.
Both my parents are religious to some degree. Never in my life have I have felt pressured to follow any religion and I was not indoctrinated to believe a certain way. Even Santa Claus was a stretch for my parents to sell. So with my eventual enlightenment, it was easy.
Since that event, it allowed me to explore a world outside of religion. It wasn't until high school that I started reading about atheism and what it really meant. What I understand about my place in life is sometimes troubling and uncertain, but it's driven me to live how I want, free from trying to please anyone -- instead living a life worth living. It's empowering, though scary, to know that my strength is coming from myself and my relationships.
I do understand the power of religion and what it can do for some people but I also see what it does to nations, cultures, and individuals when not used properly. Though a lot of good can come from religion, a lot of hate and destruction in this world comes from people taking words in a book the wrong way (See Donald Trump and ISIL). It's important to really think about your religion, how it impacts others and ask yourself, "Am I actively encouraging good and responsibility in the world?"
What my story lacks in inspiration, makes up in creativity. Be who you want, as long as you are not harming others and infringing on their life, liberties, and the pursuit of happiness.
