Religion and I have had quite the relationship throughout my nearly three decades on this planet. The only religion I had the most contact with is evangelical Christianity, more specifically C&MA and related denominations.

Like many in my demographic, I was made to go to church every Sunday until I was 18. I don’t believe anything traumatizing happened to me during that time in the church building or with anyone there, but I don’t have the fondest memories. My mom only stayed for Sunday morning worship, so I did as well, but with the children’s ministry. As a result, I didn’t spend much time with my peers there, and what little time I did, I was too shy to talk to anyone. But maybe a part of that also stemmed from the fact that I felt like I didn’t belong, in some way. I was 7 when I realized that. Not only in a social sense, but on a deeper level. At school, I was friends with a couple other out Christians, but one of them really confirmed my bias, that being a believer didn’t make you a nice person. Because in my mind, it’s not that hard to be nice, especially if you believe in what we’re told in Sunday school.

As I got older, I started wanting to feel like I belonged, no matter where I was. I became friends with another Christian, and we found out that we went to the same church. I even went to the fellowship at our high school with her a few times (only a few because my afternoons were already filled with many demanding extra-curriculars). When I graduated high school, I went to university a few cities away and had the freedom to decide my own schedule. I told myself that I was too busy with schoolwork and living away from home for the first time, so I needed my Sundays back to study and do chores. Which I really did, but I could argue that there were other good uses of my time.

A few years after moving back home, I decided to try going to church again, of my own volition. But not without ulterior motives. My sister and her now fiance were looking for a new church, so I decided to tag along, convinced that I didn’t like that one specific type of church. I was also there so I could get to know him better, and this way I don’t have to go out of my way to do so, and my parents seemed more reassured when I went anyways. As an adult, church is a different experience, but the sense that I felt differently than the people around me never went away.

As a child, I thought what I heard at church were just stories, like fairy tales, because they were set in a different place in a different time, and had a moral at the end. My favourite part of my children’s bible were the colourful maps in the back. I liked knowing the where, because I didn’t completely understand what I was being told and I wasn’t about to ask the whys. I think I quietly resented having a few more hours of my weekend taken from me, because on Sundays I looked forward to lunch because that meant I got to read my library books at dim sum.

When I was 15, my Sunday school teacher decided that we should learn about apologetics. Not only did I not know what that was, I didn’t understand why either. And as I was still easily embarrassed (I think I had crippling social anxiety for the longest time), I didn’t ask any questions. Hell, I didn’t even know what to ask. It’s not like I gave religion much thought in my daily life.

Looking back, I think I just learned about religion, but I couldn’t even wrap my impressionable child’s brain around the concept of belief in something from so long ago about something I couldn’t see and science couldn’t confirm. Granted, science and history were some of my favourite things to learn about, and nothing I learned in church were presented as fact elsewhere.

I met and was even friends with quite a few people who were relatively outwardly Christian, but I didn’t understand how they could be that way. I could say I still don’t. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a bible verse in my Instagram profile, and god won’t be getting a mention from me in my posts online. I recognize that religion can be a good thing in many ways, but for other people. Not me.

This isn’t to say that I reject Christianity and would much rather be, say, a Buddhist. I like the idea of Native American spirituality and Shintoism, but I don’t think I could be a believer of either. I am simply not a religious person. It doesn’t matter to me whether or not a god or your god exists, or how many there are. I don’t need to know why I’m here or where I’m going at the end of it all. My death isn’t something I fear. No one has a concrete, 100% provable answer to how we got here, not even science (although scientists are making more discoveries all the time).

I don’t think that modern life should be so predicated on an ancient Middle Eastern religion that started off not too dissimilarly to a doomsday cult. At least not so literally (or seriously, for that matter). All this to say that religion is an interesting anthropogenic feature. It’s not inherently good or bad, it’s just a part of a sentient species. Whether or not I believe in what you believe shouldn’t make me different from you. Are all not humans first, anything else second?

I’m just going to add this to my list of no: asexual, aromantic, non-binary, and non-religious.