First of all, I love that so many sites out there use the phrase, "coming out," to describe this process.  It very much felt that way for me, and at the time I felt very alone.

I grew up in a strict, catholic family.  As a little girl, my imaginary friend was Jesus (I was probably just a bit confused about prayer at the time).  We went to mass every Sunday and I went to class once a week.  My father read the bible every night.  If I missed mass because I was camping with girl scouts, I was brought to Spanish mass even though I didn't speak a word of Spanish.  My father had me out on a picket line with pro-life signs at the age of 12.  My father would tell me that we knew the truth, and everyone else was wrong.  I was raised to think that I had to be catholic to be a good person, and I so very much wanted to be a good person and a good daughter.

It wasn't until high school that I remember starting to question some of the things that I had been taught.  I didn't have many catholic friends, and I didn't understand why I had to think that they weren't good people.  I knew otherwise.  My friends were fantastic, thoughtful, wonderful people.  I started to learn more about their faiths or lack thereof, and I discovered more common ground than difference.  When it came time for confirmation something felt off, I didn't want to do it but I couldn't quite explain why.  I was essentially forced to go to the retreat and I ended up completing confirmation.  I even taught an 8th grade class for our church after that.

I went off to college with big plans to study and learn and start a fantastic career.  Sadly, my father didn't lecture me on keeping my nose in a book.  He, instead, talked to me about the importance of finding a good man who believed the same as me (ugh inherent sexism).  I continued to go to mass for a while, but those nagging thoughts and doubts started to creep up again.  Within 6 months or so, I had put my thoughts on religion aside.  I only went to mass when I was with my family, and I was content with that for a few years.

My senior year of college, I went away to France for a year abroad.  There I engaged in more debates and thought experiments than ever before.  I stuck out like a sore thumb, and I was forced to take a good hard look at myself.  It was a challenging but rewarding journey of self-discovery.

I returned for home to my family for the summer (I had to go back to college for a 5th year to complete my double major with the year abroad).  At home, I tried to go back to the hum drum of going to mass with my family on Sundays, but this time I felt like a complete and total fraud.  My parents will tell you that I was being melodramatic, but before I came out to them, I honestly felt like I was dying inside.  I forget exactly what I said, but it was something to the effect of - I'm not catholic and I'm not going to church with you anymore.  This announcement was followed by a lot of yelling and crying and telling me that I'm going to hell.  I distinctly remember my mother telling me that she had failed me as a parent.  This hurt me so much.  I thought, "You failed?  You failed as a parent?  Your daughter is a dean's list student at a great university, she's going to graduate with two degrees, she volunteers at an orphanage on the weekends, she plays clarinet in the pep band, she speaks two languages fluently, she has a great group of friends, she doesn't do drugs or binge drink or sleep around, and she loves with all of her heart, but you failed completely???"  Arguments like that with my mom and dad continued for most of that summer.  I remember spending a lot of time walking the dog or escaping to the park.

The conversation went from I'm not catholic to I'm an atheist rather quickly.  My mother would say things like - okay you're not catholic, but at least tell me you're agnostic.  Due to common misconceptions about what it means to be agnostic or atheist (which are not mutually exclusive), I knew I had to be more honest and definitive in what I told them and that I had to do so in a way that they would understand.

I went back to finish college and things began to calm down.  My parents would still ask me to mass on Sunday during weekend visits.  My dad would send me jesus cards in the mail and sneak pamphlets from church into my luggage.  I ignored this and just went on living my life and loving my family as I knew how.  They eventually stopped.  I'm sure they eventually hope that I will ask to go to mass with them again one day, but they've accepted that things are as they are for now.  I can live with that.  There's no more anger, no more pretending - just honesty and love and that, my friends, you can have with or without religion.