What took me so long to let go of “God”

I started questioning my faith as early as nine or eight. But I only finally let go of my belief in God when I was thirty. Maybe thirty-one. If it was about reason and logic, I could have started to be an atheist sooner, but my belief in God was not about logic. I clung on to God not because I thought it was a good idea based on facts; I clung on to God because of my feelings. To understand this better, I have to outline God in stages, as this entity walked with me through the stages of my life.

When I was a child, God was the God of my parents and my school. My parents belonged to the Anglican Protestant church, and this church has a school. I studied in this school. I was also born Chinese-Filipino. A lot of non-Chinoys think all Chinoys are somewhat Buddhist, but not my family. We never had an altar, we never kowtowed and gave offerings of fruit, we do not have a fat Buddha at home. Not all Chinoys are the same with their beliefs. Even in my Chinese Christian School, I had some classmates who had these altars at home, who had parents and relatives who believed in Jesus and Buddha. At the same time Catholic and Buddhist, a veritable hodge-podge religion found only in our unique Chinoy environment.

When I was a teenager, I marveled about the beauty of symbols in religions. I moved on from a Chinese High School to a Catholic School. An exclusive Catholic girl’s school. (Let’s call it St. G). In St. G, feminism was in the rage. Wrong, feminism is the rage. I love my school for its militant feminism, its active campaign for female rights. Though it was a Catholic institution, it was (covertly) pro-choice and pro-divorce. St. G taught had me rethinking God. When I was in college, my idea of a male god was shut down. I replaced it with a feminine God, a Goddess. The Goddess as represented by Mary (mother of God), Mary Magdalene, Shakti, Durga, Kuan Yin, and many others. I had access to thousands of books pertaining to the fact that, God can be female. And at that point in my life, a female God was what I needed. I needed Her because I was fighting my old system, namely, my slavery under the Male God. My parents’ God. The god of subservience and oppression.

I did not shake that concept of the Goddess for quite some time. She was affirming, live-giving. Kind. And powerful. I thought, if I had a god, I’d rather it be female.

In St. G, I studied Psychology. There I encountered the personality theory of Carl Jung. His teachings influence me to this day. Now I am not going to detail about his theory, you could do so on your own accord if you want. Here is a great page I found: https://www.psychologistworld.com/cognitive/carl-jung-analytical-psychology.php

What I want to mention about Jung’s theory was his unique approach about the human psyche. Specifically, Jung theorized about how human beings understand the world, how human being make sense of the random order of the universe. Also, Jung talked about the things that make up the human psyche.

Wait! Before my atheist friends cringe and stop reading at this point, I am clarifying some things. When I was in my teens, I believed in the Psyche. It was a safe term for me. I interchangeably used the terms “psyche” with “soul” and “spirit”. And like many agnostics, I also used the word “Universe” to describe God. When I was not referring to God as “God the Mother”. Snort.

Later on, I dropped the term “Psyche” and replaced it with the term “Being”. My “being there”, my “presence”, my state-of-being-alive-now. But my favorite word for it is Martin Heidegger’s term “Dasein”. (Of course, it is a German term! I will always gravitate towards German terms. My married surname is Heger and I own it!) I backed away from Jungian Psychology Jung defined psyche as the totality of human mind, conscious and unconscious. There is nothing spiritual or theistic or religious in this definition. But at the present, I prefer something, well, more clinical. So there here are my new buzzwords: Consciousness, Awareness, and Cognition. Thank you, neurobiology.

After graduating from college, I tried on a few hats. I got involved in Human Resources and Psychological testing and briefly became a Guidance Counselor. I also went straight to graduate school right after graduating from St. G. Because in the Philippines, Catholic institutions predominate, I ended up in another Catholic institution. They trained me well, I did not complain. I even graduated magna cum laude. Whatever spiritual beliefs I had in college, I carried over this stage. That is to say, I was calling myself “agnostic”. But I was vague. Religion really did not matter to that much. At that time, what was happening in my personal life was more interesting. I was in-love, for the second time, with an old flame who I met in college. What took much of my time were the steps I took to adulthood. I know what I wanted: I wanted this man who I was in-love with, I wanted to get out of my Chinoy family, and I wanted to graduate. From daughter to wife. Form graduate student to professional. In a span of a few years, I accomplished my goals. I did not pause to think about God. That much.

I married a Cafeteria Catholic. We tied the knot in a Catholic church. It is the church where my graduate school sits. I had to get a special permit form the Bishop because I was a Protestant in paper. But I did not mind the hassle. Because at that time I just wanted to move on, move up, move out of my parents’ house. At this point in time, I noticed that I have a nonchalant attitude about religious rites and rituals. Maybe it is because of this approach that I sincerely do not regret getting married in a Catholic church even to this day, that I am bold atheist.

In fairness, Erwin, my man, was never and will never be pushy about religion. He respects my disbelief in any supernatural force. He does not take offence when I say something like, “spirits do not exist”, and “I do not have a soul”, even if he believes in spirits and souls. Neither do I counter him when he expressed the desire to have our children baptized as Catholics. We have accepted our beliefs as parts of the person we married. In this sense, I am lucky indeed.

The two times I gave birth to our children, I did so without a drop of anesthesia. Why did I do it? To an outsider, the pain must have torn me apart. So why go through such pain? The main reason was I did it to feel connected to the female god I discovered in college. I needed a representation of my power, my almost superhuman power to give birth. My feminine glory.

Have you tried giving birth? Have you felt that ultimate pain? Have you been there and back?

If there was a time I “surrendered to god”, it was the two times in my life I gave birth. In fact, it could be argued that did it twice just to be close divinity. The superhuman strength, that testament to life after touching hands with death, you cannot deny that when you have given birth. I felt something-larger-than-me when it happened, I felt god-like, and I felt like a goddess after giving birth to my children. I cannot let this notion slip from me easily. Going through the penultimate experience, that essential rite of passage as a woman, has become a part of my identity.

During these feminine-god years, I was also practicing yoga. I even trained and worked as a yoga teacher, incorporating yoga into my psychotherapy practice. A lot of people ask me if it was because of yoga that I allowed me to give birth naturally and to go back to my pre-pregnancy weight almost effortlessly. The answer is yes. You see, because of yoga, my relationship with my body changed. Instead of hating it so much, I began to respect it. Even love it, a little. Practicing yoga is a daily thing for me. When I do it, I feel good. When I do it daily, I know that I have self-discipline. It is an exercise routine where I can be tough and at the same time gentle with myself. Moreover, I attached beliefs about God with yoga, that God I vaguely described as, “the higher power within me”.

I latched on to “Higher Power God” until my father died.

Then I really lost it.

My father died all of the sudden. Although I saw it coming, I was not prepared for to say goodbye to the person I loved and hated the most all my life. In moment his coffin was lowered to the ground and all my siblings were crying, in the moment my mother finally said goodbye to him, in the moment I was on my knees at the wake, there I finally made up my mind. There was no life after death. None. Only memories of him are left. Bitter, sad, happy, vivid, ambiguous memories. Pictures. Genetic inheritance. Those are the only things left. After he died, I was embarrassed to realize that he was not going to be there to torment me anymore. He won’t be there to judge my actions. No more criticism. No more sneers and insults. But also, no more praise, and no more means to make amends. We could never have another chance to be together again. The reality of my father’s death nailed the coffin on God.

At this point, I have to clarify something. My first child was two years old when Dad died. My second child was born a year later. It could be argued that there was a link there, that a death usually encourages people (like me and my husband) to mate, to create new life. To say “fuck you!” to death. Maybe it was that. What startles me is that despite the fact that I touched based with the feminine divine the second time around, all the magic was lost. The impact of my father’s death had done its work. I no longer believed in God. Male, female, or otherwise.

But I still believe that God is something we carry in me. The only “Higher Power” that exists in this world is all potential I have to be the very best that I am. Who is in command of my life? Me. Who has a plan? Me. Who is my guide? Me. And other people, friends, family members. Though it is up to me to seek them out. When I hear bible verses or scripture, I am not bothered anymore. Thanks to this mind trick: I change the word “God” to “me”. Try it. It just might save you some friendships.

In hindsight, I can pinpoint yoga and the concept of a female god as the two elements that kept me from being atheist until my middle age. In terms of attitude, my nonchalance about religious rites contributed too. Innately, I have strong respect for other people’s beliefs. But the ultimate reason, I believe, why I did not easily renounce God is because I don’t like to be an outcast. If you say you are an atheist, you are giving away your position. You are wearing a big bullseye on your heart, a point of attack. You are also slightly saying, “Hmmmp, I reject you, I reject your beliefs, and I think you and your religion are stupid.” Not overtly, of course. But that is the message you send. I do not like doing this. It creates friction. It creates mistrust, hate, suspicion. (I am deeply afraid of rejection, it is something I still have to work on personally.) Declaring myself atheist among my friends, my Catholic-dominant culture, and most importantly my Christian family is very, very painful.

I have never really come out. I suspect a lot of atheists in the Philippines don’t either.

But well, they do find out. One way or the other, do they?

As a psychologist and as a person, I also believe that if religious beliefs hold you together mentally, if religious or spiritual beliefs anchor you to your sanity, I do not have the right to interfere. Actually, I care more about why you believe and how you believe rather than what you believe. At this point in time, I have not yet seen the logic to be militant atheist. Although I do draw a line. When religiosity threatens your mental stability, when religious beliefs encourage the growth and proliferation of delusions, paranoia, depressed states, wrong ways of handling emotions, emotional abuse, and emotional blackmail. That is when we have a problem. In my clinical practice, I include the spiritual aspect when evaluating my clients. I counsel theist and atheist alike, no problem. I never push religiosity, spirituality, atheism or skepticism out.

Recently, I read an article that describes the many different types of atheists. In this article, there is a type of atheist called “Ritual Atheist”. As so:

• Doctoral student Christopher Silver and undergraduate student Thomas Coleman. Two researchers at University of Tennessee at Chattanooga

“They don’t believe in God, they don’t associate with religion, and they tend to believe there is no afterlife, but [ritual atheists] still finds useful the teachings of some religious traditions. They see these as more or less philosophical teachings of how to live life and achieve happiness than a path to transcendental liberation.” Further, “for example, these individuals may participate in specific rituals, ceremonies, musical opportunities, meditation, yoga classes, or holiday traditions.”

I think this sums up where I am in terms of “God” right now. Where I am in terms of religion. Or belief. Or Philosophy in Life. Until the next time. Because I am still alive, my thoughts will change and shift and grow. I see this as a journey, not an end to itself, because I don’t end, do I? Well, that is, until the day I die.

The featured image on this blog was AI-generated by me using free tools, namely ChatGPT, Canva, and Leonardo AI. I use these images to support my written content creatively and cost-effectively.