First, some family history... bear with me please.

My mother is and always has been a Roman Catholic. My father was raised Muslim, converted to Catholicism at about age 19, switched to the Anglican church in his 50s and in his last years did not subscribe to any church, though he still identified as Christian.

 My extended family is a hodge-podge of Catholics, Muslims and various flavours of Protestantism. Mixed marriages (in terms of religion) are fairly common in my family. One brother has two Christian children from his first marriage and two Muslim children from his second marriage. He doesn't identify with any religion. Another brother married Muslim women (marriages 1 and 2) and his current (and hopefully, last) wife is Protestant. He's been Catholic, Muslim and Protestant. I've given up trying to figure out what he actually believes in.

Three of my nieces converted to Islam and have Muslim children and step-children (in one case). Various other members of my extended family have converted either way and their children were raised in their respective adopted religions.

The unspoken family motto with regard to religion is...practice any religion you want,  respect them all (and by extension, other people's choices) and make a commitment to a religion only if you're serious about it.

 Individual family members haven't always lived up to that motto but on the whole I think most adhered to it. So, I grew up in an environment that was very tolerant as far as religion was concerned.

I, and all my siblings, were baptised in the Roman Catholic faith. My older siblings went the whole hog...first communion, confirmation and all the other rituals of the church. I, coming in at the tail end of the family,  missed the later rituals. My parents divorced when I was seven and that led my mother to break with her church for a number of years (though she still identified as a Catholic). I stopped attending church regularly when I was about 10, citing the hypocrisy of church members who'd professed to be good friends with my mom but then shunned her when my parents divorced.

However, throughout the years I still identified as a Catholic, albeit a non-practicing one. I felt Catholic. I respected the Catholic church in a general sense and specific members of the church for specific reasons. At one point when I was about five or six I even wanted to be a nun.

But something changed a few years ago. I felt less and less emotionally connected to the Catholic church. I felt a growing anger at the Catholic church's policies and attitudes towards women, contraception, abortion, homosexuality and their nauseating methods of dealing with paedophile priests. I was also very troubled by the vast gap between the wealth of the Vatican and the poverty I saw in some of our local parishes. I saw priests who were good people, invested in helping the communities they served, who lived hand-to-mouth, literally surviving on donations from their parishioners. I couldn't see any reason for that. I read about the controversies surrounding the Catholic church's stance during the WWII. I read about its treatment of nuns. I pondered its stance on female priests.

I came to the conclusion that to call myself a Catholic was to be untrue to my beliefs.

I considered converting, perhaps to Islam, but discarded that thought when I acknowledged I disagreed with too many of its tenets to be able to convert in good faith (excuse the pun). I didn't even consider switching to a Protestant faith as I never felt any connection with any of the Protestant faiths I'd had contact with. Judaism was completely out of the scope of my experience too. Buddhism was another option but I doubted I had the right temperament and attitude.

I still felt the need for some kind of spiritual structure and wondered if I'd ever find a place where I felt comfortable. Then I changed tack and gave more thought to whether or not I believed in God. The answer I eventually came up with, and haven't yet changed, is: I believe, but mostly because that belief was so firmly entrenched in my childhood that I can't see how I can dislodge it from my consciousness. Basically, I believe in God because I don't know how to stop.

It's a wishy-washy answer but I no longer have the energy nor the inclination to wrestle with it. It is how it is and I'm ok with that. Sometimes I talk to God, giving thanks for the good in my life and asking for continued strength to cope with the bad. I don't really see God as an entity, some sort of higher being that sees all and knows all.

The closest I can get to defining my personal definition of God: a cosmic awareness, a higher sense of purpose, a force that I can influence and be influenced by. We are inextricably linked.

My God is not someone I expect to prevent or resolve my problems. I don't even see my God as a source of the good things in my life. My God is a source of comfort and support during those times when I need it. When I wake up trembling from a nightmare I have someone to talk to, to reassure myself I am ok. When something unexpectedly nice happens I have someone to share that with. When something bad happens I have someone who serves as my sounding board as I vent my rage and frustration.

Maybe my God is in me.