Teenage life is hard, that’s pretty much a given. The burden of wayward hormones, trying to fit in, trying to be somewhat appealing to the opposite sex, and attempting to get into the best college of your choice can take a serious toll on someone who still has no idea who they are and what they want to do with life.

I wish this was all I had to worry about, but unfortunately, I came from an incredibly religious household. So of course, I had to worry about pleasing a god and my staunchly religious parents. My problem? I am an atheist.

I grew up in a Protestant home; my father was actually Catholic, but when he married my mother he quickly converted. My mother, who was sexually assaulted when she was only ten, used religion as her coping method. Since I’m also a sexual assault survivor, I understand why she did that, and I would never blame her for coping the way she did. With that being said, I feel that my mother pushed religion on my family so vigorously so that she could protect us from the horror that she experienced as a child.

I had (blindly) followed our faith because I was a child, and I didn’t really know of any types of religion. I had no idea what the Islamic faith was, and I thought Jews were pretty cool. I kind of understood Hinduism and Buddhism, but regarded them as kind of heathenous and stupid. (Note: I do not think this now. I’m quite fond of both religions, and I love how peace and harmony is deeply embedded into the religions.) Atheism and Agnosticism were completely foreign concepts to me; I thought that being either of the two meant that you could do whatever you wanted and life had no meaning (again, no longer my thoughts today).

Of course, these were terrible ways to think, but that’s how I thought up until I was 14 or so. I still believed in a god, or rather, I believed in my religion. That was fine and dandy until I hit puberty. I was 12 when this occurred, and although I’d had sexual thoughts before, I never really had the feelings to go along with them. Puberty changed that.

When I had my actual period, there was no stupid celebration or whatever. Instead, both my parents (yes, you read both) sat me down and told me how I needed to save myself till marriage. I wasn’t quite sure what I was saving, but whatever, you get the idea. My mom, who did all the talking, told me that virginity is sacred and that sex before marriage is filthy, and god will be upset with me. I remember having this random thought, “Ha! Good luck with that.” I have no idea where that came from because I felt like I understood what she was saying. I was not told about STDs, how to avoid an unwanted sexual advance (which I think would have prevented my sexual assault when I was 15), birth control or condoms. I was left clueless.

Now, after puberty, I desperately wanted to have sex, but with my religion I didn’t dare act on those feelings. The problem with my faith is that sex before marriage was so demonized that it was considered second only to murder. It was incredibly messed up, but since I was only twelve, I didn’t want to be condemned, or worse, grounded. So instead, I pented up all my sexual urges and desires and attempted to pretend they didn’t exist. I had no idea what masturbation was, so I was left without any form of sexual relief. My primary thoughts were, of course, about sex, and what kind of loving god would make me feel like this if I couldn’t do anything till marriage? Yes, I felt like I was going insane.

Luckily, one of the few things that kept me sane in my absolutely bizarre household was my love for reading. I decided to pick up a book by Nietzsche. I believe it was Thus Spoke Zaruthustra, and it actually made sense. The problem with my religion is that there are a lot of wacky loopholes that members are told to just accept without question. I was confused by of lot of doctrine, including but not limited to, double sexual standards for men and women, preference of whites over blacks, and this idea that man did not first originate in Africa, but in the Bible Belt of America. The nice thing about Nietzsche is that he thought all of that was bullshit, and he felt you did not have follow every single little idea that a religion has to offer. I decided to give his methodology a try.

At first, it was quite strange, because I still did have plenty of thoughts and feelings regarding my actions and my religion. But the guilt alleviated a little bit. As I applied his philosophies to my life, I found that I actually enjoyed living. I had this odd “I hate religion” phase for a bit, but I came to terms with it, rather, I found that I hated the way my parents made feel that I must live.

I decided I didn’t want to wait till I was 16 to date. Which was one of our most important rules in my household, but I decided to bypass that. Sex became one of the most enjoyable activities I could have found. I found that it wasn’t some activity that was strictly reserved for otherwise unhappy married people, but it was a way that I could express my love in a fulfilling way.

Now, because I was still living at home, I was forced to go to go church with my family and participate in other religious activities. I longed for the day where I would no longer have to do this, and until then, kept my ideas to myself. My mother had no idea I no longer believed in her god, but it was incredibly frustrating to keep the facade up. After a while, I became increasingly belligerent about church attendance. I kept a small journal to vent to keep myself somewhat sane, and made sure that it was well hidden.

However, I must have gotten sloppy about the journal because my mother found it and confronted me about it. I was mocked and insulted endlessly about it. My mother increased the church going activities because she thought if I had more exposure to god, I would believe in him/her/it again. I was forced to endure this until I was in college, where I tasted the freedom and joy of living a godless life.

And to be honest, I’ve never been more happy in my life.