The summer before 7th grade was a rough time for me. Over the past few years, my three older siblings stopped going to church. First, the eldest sister (19 when I was 9), I was too young to realize. Then the second eldest sister (17 when I was 9), I was too young to wonder why. Then my brother (16 at the time I was 10), which was when I started growing curious. I wondered why they wouldn’t go to church. Why they stopped worshipping God, who was so much a part of our lives, the center of everything we knew and grew up around. How could they reject the existence of God? What if they’re right? The summer before 7th grade I made an attempt to find out. I would stay up night after night, scrolling through the endless caverns of YouTube watching debates between those who believed and those who did not. At one point, I was awake for 4 days straight, and I just started crying, 3am lying on the covers in front of my laptop, playing a debate between a priest and an atheist girl. I realized that I no longer believed in God, but I had no idea how to go about it. My mom and dad were strong believers and had expected us to follow suit. I went to church every Sunday, no matter what. If I couldn’t go to church, we’d watch a mass online. They would certainly be devastated at my turn to atheism, but would they accept me? Would they choose to be the loving parents I knew and accept my beliefs, even if they differed from theirs? Or would they put God and his word first and deny my change of mind, attempting to make me see “the light of god” once more? I went to find out with my twin sister. It was midnight, and my mom, who had recently taken up the task to read us parts of the Bible before bed, was just finishing the end of the book of Genesis, the creation story. Me and my sister took the opportunity to bring up our disbelief. We started with questions like “if Adam and <a href="https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.glow.android.eve">Eve</a> were the ones who sinned, why do we as their children have to suffer the consequences?”, “If a good person needs to have a sunny day, and 100 sinners in the same area need a rainy day, who would God provide for, if indeed he has a plan for all of us?” And “Why does God let bad things happen to us that are not of human cause? Isn’t he able to? Willing to? What is stopping Him? Why are people dying when God can save them?” My mom never answered any of our questions. “Why are you asking these questions, are you mad at God?” She asked. I couldn’t bear it, I just burst. “I can’t be mad at something I don’t believe in!” I broke into tears. Then my mom said something I never thought she’d say “One day you’ll see the light of God, the devil is keeping you from seeing it now.” I was devastated. My mom basically said I was being influenced by the devil. Possessed, if you will. I cried harder and harder. “What do you want me to say?” She asked. “If you want me to say I accept you, I can’t. One day you’ll see the light. I truly believe that.” I stormed out the room and to my bed. The melatonin I took never helped. I stayed up drowning myself in tears. The woman I looked up too all my life, couldn’t accept that I didn’t believe in what she did. This happened on a Tuesday. The next Sunday, she would try and force me to go to church. Me and my sister deliberately refused to get ready, and when my dad finally forced us to, he got so mad that he just put on the reverse and sped back into the driveway, slamming on the brakes. “I am so fucking angry” he yelled at us. I got out the car and straight to my room I didn’t speak, choosing to spill my tears silently. Every Sunday, my parents went separately to church so one parent could stay home and watch us and the other to attend service. They eventually started to go together and have one of my siblings watch us. But then as my siblings went on to college and grew busier with their jobs and education. One Sunday, no one was available to take care of us and we were once more forced to go. We hid in the bathrooms of he church, and my mom found us and dragged us back. We went to our pew, and refused to stand up or kneel when we were supposed to. It was our way of protesting. Again, my dad got angry, cussed a bit, and lectured us about respect. I sat silently in the back. No crying this time. Another Sunday, when my dad was out of town, my mom dragged us to church again. She told us not to stay in the bathrooms again or she would punish us severely. We did it anyway, I read my book, George Orwell’s 1984, in one of the stalls. I stayed in there for the remainder of the mass. My sister did too. When we went back into the car, my mom gave another lecture of respect. My sister chose to speak this time, arguing with my mom, and when she broke into tears, I stepped in. “I can’t respect someone who doesn’t respect me.” “I do respect you” my mom replied. “I clothe, feed and provide for your education. I take you places. Is that not respect?” I didn’t respond. I couldn’t without letting out the lump in my throat. When next Sunday rolled around, my mom said “we have decided not to take you to mass anymore. We don’t want to bring you into God’s house.” She called me the devil. After school one day, my mom says, “You know your dad is under a lot of stress, right? (he’s been facing financial issues with his store, they’re in the middle of potentially filing for bankruptcy).” “Yes?” “Well there’s this movie that’s playing and it would really help with his stress if you come.” “What’s it about?” “It’s called ‘I Can Only Imagine.’ And it’s a Christian movie...” “No I’m not going.” “Can’t you respect your father enough and just come to cheer him up.” “No because I can’t respect it when you try to drag me along to something that goes against what I believe in. I can’t respect someone if they can’t respect me. I won’t go.”The rest of the car ride home was silent. I kept my back straight, chin up, eyes forward. They went to the movies without us. My mom blasted K-Love, the Christian music radio station, in my house when she came back, and she always has it on now at full volume. It’s often that some of the songs depict skeptics as blind or ignorant, not yet “seeing the light of god”.

I’m just really confused as to what I should do. I feel like I should talk it through with my parents, but they tend to refer back to the respect thing whenever I try, and I just can’t argue with that. Are there any other options or should I just try and ride this out for 5 more years?