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[Blogs] Myth: Atheism Caused By Bad Relationships With Fathers

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#1
Hank

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Myth: Atheism Caused By Bad Relationships With Fathers It sounds bizarre to suggest that atheism has anything to do with one's relationship with their father, but this myth has become popular due to the efforts of Paul Vitz,... http://atheism.about.../b/a/258834.htm

#2
Ungodly

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I thought bad relationships with one's father caused homosexuality. Now it causes atheism too?  There's me explained :-)

#3
Unbeliever

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I never knew my father, so It must've been some other reason for me.

#4
Frozenwolf150

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I don't have the best of relationships with either of my parents.  Far from it, in fact.  However I do take after them as far as their beliefs, values, and opinions towards religion.  My mother is an agnostic, who taught me that people can believe whatever they want, so long as they, "Shove it up their own ass!" to quote her exact words.  She prefers to stay out of the whole religion mess herself, although she does take special interest in multiculturalism and traditions, since that's what she does as a teacher.  My father is a deist, in that he believes there is something more out there than we can conceive, and that there must be more to life than the short time we are given, but that it doesn't necessarily have to do with any god or gods worth praying to.  His is more of a philosophical stance than a religious one.

#5
Ungodly

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I was clearly my father's favorite. My older brother was born while my father was in Europe expressing his disagreement with Adolph Hitler, so by the time he first saw my brother he was already "spoiled by living in a house full of women".

How ironic that my father's golden boy turned out to be the fag, while my supposedly sissified brother is as straight as Clark Kent, and as religimous as a parish priest.

My father came home from the war with a shoebox containing photographs of huge piles of severely emaciated dead bodies. His army platoon or brigade or whatever the heck those are called had liberated Dachau, and he was their photographer.  He was also an alcoholic after the war too.  I think there is a cause and effect relationship there.

So by the time my father passed away I was 14 and I hated him because I could never have friends over, afraid he'd be passed out as he did every single night.

His experiences in the war may have contributed to my pacifism, I'm not sure, but I'm certain my relationship with him has no bearing on my sexuality.

#6
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Yes I guess it did change quite a bit.  First off we were instantly poor, and I'm not complaining about that because my mother always made sure we had food and clothing, and it helped me to form better values.  Perhaps I have more compassion for other people as a result of that, I'm not sure.

Second, it was about the time I became free of my religious affliction, a fact which would have caused great friction with my father.

Yes, I did have friends over more, what few friends I had.  I've always been a social outcast, and this is still evident today, but I'm not complaining. I was the only male of my generation in my tiny village that went to a Catholic school several miles away.  And I was certainly always queer.

My father was a good man, and a good and loving father, his alcoholism was a disease and not a sign of moral failure.  It was just at the time of his death that we were no longer close.  That had as much to do with my being a teenager as anything about him.

It was he who taught me to question what I was told, and to be prepared to justify the things I said and did.  He also taught me to love to read.  As a 6 year old I was required to read newspaper articles out loud to him, then explain the story, then present my opinion, then justify it.  He was perhaps an ideal father for teaching intellectual independence and self reliance.  My mother often said I was just like him.

I come from a long line of alcoholic men that die young.  I started playing that same game until it was brought to my attention that my drinking was doing me harm, then I gave up alcohol because of my track record of using it to my own disadvantage.

On the night that my father died, several hours before he died, I broke into his liquor and had a few shots, celebrating his sudden illness and wishing he would die. Then he did.  Of course I then blamed myself for his death.  It took me about 30 years to get over that fuck up.  It's funny how the things that screw us up the most are often completely invisible to other people.


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