On my own, though my parents sort of encouraged it by certain gift books that they gave me.

My father’s family is Pentecostal, my mother’s is catholic and Methodist. While they consider themselves believers, they never took us to church growing up. So I went to church with my friends who were Jehovahs Witness, Jewish, you name it. By the time I was an adult I realized religion is subjective. Nobody knows positively if there’s a god or not and I don’t want to waste my time trying to figure it out. I don’t want to waste time going to church, etc only to find out it was pointless. My family (with the exception of my son who agrees with me) thinks I’m crazy and going straight to hell for it.....whatever.

Apathy towards the emotional pleas to believe in nonsense untied my boat from that dock.

I had a religious mom and an agnostic dad who thought religion could be used as a tool to define moral standards. I also had a grandfather who strongly believed in critical thinking. He supplied me with probing questions that usually got me into trouble with the Catholic sisters. From there, it was a slippery slope to atheism.

My father is an atheist. My mom is christian. They agreed to let us grow up and make our own choices. Only thing we did that was remotely religious was celebrate Christmas. Thought of it more as a time to connect with family.