I got an e-mail from my high school alumni association asking me to submit an article on where my life has gone since High School. Here’s what I submitted.
Escape Velocity — How I Survived Catholic School and Became a Proud Atheist
I spent thirteen years in Catholic school — thirteen years of uniforms, catechism, and guilt as a second language. If you ever wondered what it’s like to grow up under constant moral surveillance, imagine being told that God is watching you and Brother Luke Martin has binoculars.
So when Christ the King high school asked alumni to write about “where we are today,” I thought: Spiritually? I’m off-campus, way off campus.
My family’s devotion was inherited, not chosen — like a family heirloom you’re expected to wear even if it clashes with your outfit. Faith was comforting, sure, but also confining. Certainty has a way of wrapping around you like a warm blanket that slowly turns into shrink-wrap.
We were taught that doubt was dangerous. I later realized doubt is just healthy curiosity.
My escape wasn’t dramatic — no lightning bolts, no slammed doors. It was more like discovering that “critical thinking” wasn’t a sin after all. I realized the universe didn’t need a hall monitor.
I remember the first time I said aloud, “I don’t believe in God.” I braced for thunder, lightning, or at least a pop quiz from God. Nothing happened. The world kept spinning. That’s when I knew I’d achieved escape velocity.
Leaving faith behind was gradual, not rebellious. I didn’t trade hymns for heavy metal or start wearing black. I just stopped outsourcing my conscience. Curiosity replaced doctrine, and morality stopped being a checklist as I journeyed from Agnosticism to full-blown Atheism.
Turns out, you can be kind, honest, and decent without divine supervision — though you do lose access to guilt as a motivational tool.
Atheism didn’t erase morality; it clarified it. I learned that empathy doesn’t need commandments, and reason doesn’t need miracles. My ethics now come from people, not ancient parchments.
And honestly, life’s simpler when you don’t have to explain why an omniscient being needs weekly reminders that you’re sorry.
Catholic guilt, though — that’s the souvenir that never fades. It’s like a spiritual tattoo: invisible, indelible, and occasionally itchy.
To the students still navigating those hallowed halls of a Catholic high school: think freely, question deeply, and define belief for yourself. Faith, doubt, and reason aren’t enemies — they’re just different ways of asking the same question.
And if this essay somehow gets printed in the alumni newsletter, I’ll consider it my first miracle.
Sincerely,
Harold Earl Paulson, Class of 1966.
I haven’t heard back from them, yet.
Peace & Love, and all of the above,
Earl
earlthepearl137 