How I Started Questioning Everything

Finding Meaning After Loss

My brother died breaking a rule.
He was drinking and driving.

Afterward, people tried to comfort me the only way they knew how:

“He’s in heaven now.”

But I wasn’t sure.
Not just about where he was—but whether I’d ever get there myself.

Because according to everything I’d been taught, heaven wasn’t about being good.
It was about being right.
And the longer I sat with that, the less it sounded like love.

If there’s something greater than us—something that truly loves us—
shouldn’t that love be unconditional?
Shouldn’t it be bigger than rules?

That’s when the questions started.
Not because I wanted to ask them.
Because I had to.

The Moment Everything Shifted

I stopped worrying about who was “saved” and started thinking about who was safe.
I stopped measuring worth by belief and started measuring it by kindness.

That shift didn’t happen overnight—it grew slowly, one thought at a time.
At first, it felt like betrayal.
But eventually, it started to feel like honesty.

I didn’t have the word for it then, but I was already becoming a Humanist.
I just didn’t know it yet.

A New Perspective: What the Military Taught Me

Leaving home for military training cracked my worldview wide open.
It was the first time I’d truly seen how big and diverse the world really is.

I met people from everywhere—different accents, different beliefs, different ways of seeing purpose.
But none of that mattered when it came time to work.

We weren’t divided by difference.
We were stronger because of it.

That’s where I learned something sacred—
when people come together not out of fear, but out of care, something extraordinary happens.
We become greater together than we ever could be alone.

That’s when I stopped looking for meaning in dogma
and started finding it in connection.

What Humanism Means to Me

Humanism, for me, isn’t about rejecting belief—it’s about embracing people.

It’s about choosing compassion over compliance.
Reason over ritual.
Responsibility over reward.

It’s the understanding that we don’t need eternal rules to know how to treat each other.
We already have that knowledge. We just forget to use it.

The moment I stopped searching for the “right” answers
and started asking better questions
was the moment I realized:
what matters isn’t what we believe—it’s how we live.

Why It Still Matters

The world feels loud right now.
Everyone’s shouting their certainty like it’s proof of life.
But I keep thinking back to what I learned during those years of questioning:

Survival has never been about division.
It’s always been about collaboration.

Long before Humanism had a name, people understood this.
Tribes, families, communities—they didn’t survive because they agreed.
They survived because they cared for each other anyway.

That’s still the truth.
Our strength isn’t sameness—it’s solidarity.
Progress doesn’t come from building higher walls.
It comes from building better bridges.

Humanism isn’t just philosophy—it’s a homecoming.
A reminder that our differences don’t weaken us—they complete us.

Why I Write

This site exists because those early questions never really stopped.
They just grew wiser.

I don’t write because I have the answers.
I write because I think the questions are worth asking.

And if any of my stories help someone else feel less alone while they’re questioning—
then maybe that’s all the faith I need.

Stay curious. Stay human. And always, be kind.