So, as most people know, my family is Native American. My father is Cherokee (his father) and Shoshone (his mother) and my mother is Cree (her father) and Québécois (her mother). Now, my mother's father totally abandoned her and my maternal grandmother, so she had a certain opinion of NA men and because of that, she got some crazy idea to "save" my father from his blasphemous heathen religion and majorly tricked him into marrying her. When we kids were born she utterly forbid my father from teaching us about our heritage and it was super hardcore Christian teaching in our house. So that fostered a very negative opinion of the religion to me because my mother was my prime example of said religion. When I was 13 they got divorced and our father pulled my next-oldest brother and I out of public school and sent us back to a rez school. I immediately was fascinated by our religion and knowing that Coyote was basically our god. It all seemed so much more reasonable than what my mother taught.
Then when I went into rehab when I was 19, the guy who was my roommate was Catholic and talked to me a lot about all the Catholic ritual and the saints and stuff and I clung to that a lot as well. It was just different than the way my mother had hammered it into our heads. I also found Thus Spoke Zarathustra in the "library" there and that's where my headlong pursuit of philosophy started. But this roommate of mine got out about two weeks before I did and came back for a visit just before I finished the program and gave me a prayer book, a book of saints and Saint Sebastian's prayer card.
So there ya go, that's the extremely abridged story of my relationship with religion. :)