My journey begins.

I've been thinking about my life's spiritual journey and what a long and tortuous path it's been. My closest friend was born a Catholic and has stayed a faithful Catholic all her life. Mine is a very different story, maybe now is the time to write about the road I've travelled. It may take some time.

I was born into a mixed family. My mother was a Catholic and my father was an agnostic. My mother didn't go to church, she said she didn't have time with 5 children, but she always made us go to church and she sent us to a Catholic school.

I was quite a devout child and into my teens and I knew all the arguments why WE were right and everyone else was wrong. My Faith was like a strong wall against the pagan hordes outside.

However, when I was around 17 years old, for about a year, small cracks started to appear in the wall. Nothing bad happened, I just started noticing little inconsistancies over what was said and what was actually happened. Maybe there was a certain lack of logic, but nothing too worrying and after all I had been taught that to doubt was a sin.

But the cracks must have been more pervasive than I realised, because one casual remark from my father made the whole wall collapse. He asked me why I was going to Mass on Saturdays and I explained patiently and confidently about the 9 (I think) Saurdays. He said dismissively "It sounds like something Red Indians believe." That remark stunned me and in a moment of shocking clarity I thought incredulously 'Yes it is!' and my faith disappeared in a cloud of dust. When it cleared I realised I didn't believe any of it. I refused to go to church again and proclaimed loudly that I was an atheist.