There but for the grace of God, go I.

I was brought up in a very religious household, both my parents were devout Christians. In fact my dad was a church minister. I was dragged to Sunday School or Church every week.

The hypocrisy of a father who preached peace and love to his congregation but treated my Mum and I the opposite, was too much for me even from a very young age. My earliest memories relating to this subject were of us driving with a clerical collared, maniacal minister on the way to church on a Sunday. He would park up, we would all get out of the car and our true faces would immediately disappear as our cheerful, smiley masks dropped into place to greet the church folk.

I remember from aged four sitting there with burning, red eyes and dry, faded tears on my cheeks looking around the Church at all those adoring fans hanging on my dad's every word. It made me feel sick to the stomach then and still does when I think about it. I would glance up at my stoic Mum and even though she was physically facing the pulpit, I could see her thoughts were elsewhere, anywhere but there.

Did no one ever notice? Or were they all too polite to say something? He was a so-called charming pillar of the community so who would have thought he could be such a monster. Nowadays, as we hear so often, reputations do not hold much weight. During the years of my childhood, reputations meant everything especially those of the middle aged patriarchy.

In my teens, I felt that I had been brainwashed when I was younger. I struggled with my faith. My life in so many ways was filled with lies. I refused to live my life like that. I also could not understand how so many people could be taken in by my dad. What was wrong with them? I always tried to behave in an honourable, humane way with all living creatures and yet my dad could not even treat his wife and daughter with love and respect.

I found out many years later that one of his congregation had named my dad, 'the devil himself'. That made me smile. I am not sure as to why he so thought but at least, someone had actually noticed.

As soon as I had a choice, I stopped going to church and my fabricated faith fell away. So I now have no faith and am my content authentic self. I respect all others' religious beliefs though, as I know how important Christianity was for my Mum. It gave her strength to carry on through many dark, disturbing times all caused by my dad. I questioned her about it often and wondered how she could still believe when he seemed so evil. Her response every time: There but for the grace of God, go I.