Since we’re getting closer to Ash Wednesday and that means a lot to… Bub’s paternal family (they are Catholic), I thought that I would take the time to write out what they tried to do to me since we are coming up on it nearly being a decade since I formally rejected Catholicism as well as Christianity and theism. I have absolutely no regrets about any of this, but I wanted to “pass the word along” as to what my own personal experiences with the Catholic church were for the thankfully limited length of time that I was… involved with it. And I know that some people continue to hold out hope that I will “repent” for this, that I will “have regrets” for “turning my back on the church”, although we are coming up on a decade now since I actually did that and my resolve not to have anything to do with Christianity or theism on any fundamental level has only been strengthened by the research that I have done into them and solidified the fact that me and mine will not become members of any of these churches, let alone have anything tangible to do with any of them.

When Bub’s paternal grandmother and grandfather found out that I was pregnant with him (because he was conceived “out of wedlock”, which mattered to them… and did not matter one bit to me), they were upset because of their religious views. After he had been born, his paternal grandmother rushed me through filling out forms that I would later find out were enrollment forms for RCIA, or the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults. She rushed me through these so fast that I did not even have time to read them, so I had absolutely no idea what these forms were for. And she intentionally downplayed the seriousness of these classes. I would later come to find out that this was entirely intentional on her part, as I was rushed through these so fast that I wasn’t even able to figure out the name of these classes, another purposeful thing that she did… I mean, I couldn’t Google them to see what she was trying to shotgun me through if I didn’t have the name of the classes, and she was preying on what was then my lack of knowledge about the Catholic religion to try and strong-arm me through them. At the same exact time, she was giddily and gleefully telling all of her friends at church that I was interested in converting to the Catholic faith, and I had absolutely no idea that they even wanted me to convert. The cherry on top was the fact that she insisted that I put her phone number down instead of my own when I was filling out these forms, all “so my parents wouldn’t find out”. So she knew exactly what she was doing. It was clear that she had planned this out from the start…

It was not until I had attended what would be my first, last, and only RCIA class that I found out what the purpose of these classes actually were, and that she had told everyone at their church that I was interested in converting so that I could marry her son and “fix our sin”. Naturally, I fixed this problem the only proper way — at the end of the class, I disclosed the fact that I was actually an atheist, and that I had been one for decades. Although I did so in a civil and polite manner, this resulted in me immediately being dropped from the class roster. So much for the whole, “The church is offering here an invitation to initial conversion. There is no obligation involved during this period,” right? And when I disclosed this, I was also permanently disinvited from all future church functions, which didn’t bother me one bit as I didn’t want to attend them anyway… I had been connived into attending weekly Mass with Bub’s father, completely against my will (as I did not want to go, refused to participate, and when drug up to the priest for a blessing made it a point to get away from him as soon as I possibly could) for the better part of my third trimester. I had also been connived into attending various other, random church functions with him that I did not at all want to attend.

Needless to say, the idea of marrying him, let alone in the church, was dropped after I outed myself.

Bub’s father and grandmother were also told at some point after this by their priest that he did not feel comfortable baptizing our child even if Bub’s father was the only one that presented him “because of my views”, and that “as long as I held them, he did not feel comfortable baptizing (our child) because there was no chance that he would be raised in the faith”. It was at around this time that Bub’s paternal grandmother forbade her adult son from conversing with me for any reason (to include about our child), something which I find hilarious to this day, and he stopped being involved in Bub’s life. The last time that he saw Bub was when Bub was a few months old, and Bub is now nine and a half years old. None of us are bothered by this.

I do not have any regrets about outing myself as an atheist (or as I see it, being honest about my lack of religious beliefs), making the conscious decision to reject Catholicism and Christianity, and continuing to do so to this day. I would not change a single one of my behaviors if given “the chance to do it all over again”.

If I had been shotgunned into converting and marrying Bub’s father, I would have divorced him as soon as I could, and I would not have had any more children with him. This was irrevocable, and it would not change.

When I was in a relationship with Bub’s father, one of the things that his paternal grandmother did after the birth of our child was rush me into filling out forms for their church’s religious conversion classes without giving me a chance to read those forms. This was entirely intentional on her part, and meticulously planned out. She even went so far as to make sure that I put down her own phone number rather than my own, wanting to hide her attempt at converting me by force from my own family, who would not have been supportive of her attempts to do so. It wasn’t until several months later that the start of these classes eventually rolled around, and I decided that as long as I had to sit through them, I wasn’t going to follow any of the tenets of their religion — I would “fake it until I made it”, or fake it until it became so apparent that I got dropped from of the classes because I was not a good candidate for them or conversion into their church. I reasoned that the latter was statistically more likely to happen. I wasn’t going to change myself to appease a single one of them, and I wasn’t going to allow them to forcibly indoctrinate me so that they could baptize our child while he was an infant, because that was how Bub’s paternal grandmother exerted the level of control that she did over all of her children… even though all of them were adults. I guessed they would learn.

It took sitting through all of one class for me to out myself as a long-time non-believer. I was impressed.

With that realization also came the realization that as long as I was the staunch non-believer that I was, his church would not baptize our child — not only was my consent required as the custodial parent (and it made certain that it would not be given), but his church would also make it clear that they did not feel comfortable baptizing our son with there being no assurance that he would be raised in the faith because of the… level of disbelief that I expressed and lived my life by. Soon after this, Bub’s father and extended paternal family members stopped being present in his life. I figured that this would happen. I was not surprised by any of it.

As the years went on, I became increasingly more hostile toward religions that forced their doctrine and ideology on children as a result of that. I spoke out more about how the practice of doing so did not sit well with me and how I found it abusive. To this day, I actually continue to find it abhorrent and abusive. So Bub’s paternal family can thank themselves for that by attempting to shotgun me through their church’s religious conversion classes without being honest about me about the classes that I was signing up for (and Bub’s paternal grandmother was not honest about what those classes actually were), and attempting to incite enough fear in me that I would consent to allow our son to be baptized into their faith. Having been a non-believer for as many decades as I can remember, having devout believers attempt to evangelize to me or proselytize their beliefs on me and mine has never been something that has sat well with me, and her attempts to do so only further solidified my own lack of belief in any higher power or supernatural deity.

Many of the people that I know, or have known, have been affected by religion in a negative way.

So don’t mind the fact that my perception of it has been… colored by that.

The father of one of my children was raised to be Pagan because his mother rebelled against the way that her own parents raised her, and this was one of the ways that she chose to rebel (if not the primary way)… by raising her children to be Pagan, if not outright instilling a deep dislike of Christian theology in general in them. I can’t speak for her other children, but I can say that she did manage to succeed instilling that in him.

And the pendulum swung the other way with the father of my other child, being raised so devoutly Christian that our son’s birth was probably actually the worst thing to happen because he was conceived and born out of wedlock and I would not “fix the sin of that” by marrying him because we had a child together, something that I chose not to do for a large number of reasons that I continue to stand by to this day. Ultimately, religion was — and is — so important to him and his family that adherence to it took, and takes, absolute precedence, and that is not something that I will ever be comfortable with. That is not how I will ever live my life. I don’t mind what other people believe in or how they choose to worship, but when it involves “me and mine”, there will always be choice. That became a dealbreaker that I began to carry with me going into future relationships. If your significant other has to become the same religion as you, practice your religion with you, or believe the same things that you do, I am not the one for you. (Although sure, if you’re a secular humanist like I am, that’s cool! Just don’t try and make it a requirement that we believe the same things, or even the… lack of those, if that makes sense. I don’t care what you do or don’t believe in.)

My children are also to be afforded complete choice in the matter of exploring religion, full stop.

Another dealbreaker that I made going into subsequent relationships is that I, under absolutely no circumstances, be asked to attend any religious functions with a significant other for any reason. This was how far the pendulum swung in that relationship. Simply put, I will not attend them. I have not changed my mind in as many years as I’ve been on this planet, and I do not see myself changing my mind. I will attend functions or gatherings with other secular humanists, but I will not attend religious functions. The closest I will physically come to a church is if it is a Pokestop because Bub and I are playing Pokemon Go together…

I do not hate religion or those who practice it. Quite the contrary. I feel like I have just been “a potential number” to be recruited (or “three potential numbers”, if you want to get even more technical about it) by people that I should have been able to trust at least a little more than I wound up being able to trust, so I’ve had to lay down some ground rules about how I am to be approached regarding it, especially because I don’t want to get anyone’s hopes up thinking that they can evangelize to me about it when I have shut that door.

If I change my mind on the matter, I will let people know. Until then, assume that it is what I say it is.