For many of us, our relationship with faith and religion evolves over time.

For some, the decision to stop believing isn't just private and personal — it can have a profound impact on relationships with family.

In this last interview of our three-part series, we hear from Nik*, a woman who grew up in a conservative Muslim family.

Census trends Census data shows there's a growing trend of people reporting they have "No religion" each time the survey rolls around (that's every five years). In 2016, nearly a third of Australians (30 per cent) reported they had "No religion", compared to 19 per cent of people just a decade earlier.

Describe your upbringing:

My mother is actually a convert. She converted to Islam when I was about three and then met my stepfather and then very quickly became practising.

So I'm the oldest of seven. Growing up we'd wake up in the morning for prayers, read Koran, read Koran again after school… living life on repeat.

When I hit puberty, my parents decided I couldn't be mixing with boys — or girls who might be a bad influence … so I was home-schooled from 11.

ABC Life in your inbox Get our newsletter for the best of ABC Life each week Your information is handled in accordance with the ABC Privacy Collection Statement Email address Subscribe

Why did you stop believing?

I'd always question why. Why do I have to do this? Why do I have to wear a hijab? Why, why, why.

As you get older the answers you're given stop making sense.

It was around when I was 15 I decided that I didn't believe … but that wasn't an option to come out and say it in my household. And you're raised in such an insular society you don't know who you can speak to.

I was 19 when I reached a point where I was like, "I'm an adult, I should be able to do what I want… why can't I go to university?"

My parents would be like, 'No, it's a haram environment with boys and girls mixing."

I essentially told my family that I no longer believed the day I left home. I was like, "F you, F you God, I'm out, bye".

And then I left home.

I had nowhere to go, I had no work experience, I had no money.

I went to live in a half-way house … I realised I needed to start working on myself and building my own mental strength and life.

'I do regret that leaving means that I no longer have a family support network,' says Nik (not pictured). ( Unsplash: Brannon Naito )

How has your relationship with family been impacted?

Obviously, you never want to lose your family. I still love my family. Initially I tried to engage with them, but they'd be like, "You have to come home, you're ruining our family's reputation."

It was a lot of emotional manipulation.

I officially cut them out when I was 24.

When a boy breaks my heart or I'm facing medical things, you want your mum there, you want your family. And I don't have that.

But then I also have to weigh up that they didn't bring me anything but sadness or anxiety or stress in my life.

What's life like now?

Nik* started the group Ex-Muslims Australia to help other people leaving the faith find support.

There's this thing where people generally feel by leaving the faith that we hate the people within the faith. I'm like, "No!"

My family are Muslim, I don't hate my family. I don't hate my Muslim co-workers. But what I do hate is the fact that when it came down to it, religion meant more to my family and friends, than me as a person.

What I do [with Ex-Muslims Australia], it's not about bringing hate, it's all about bringing awareness to the fact that people should be able to leave a religion without having to lose their family.

I've been asked over the years whether I regret leaving, and to be honest, I don't. Because the person I've become today is a strong, independent, confident person. I'm not afraid to say what's on my mind.

I do regret that leaving means that I no longer have a family support network, and it means that I am essentially alone in this big, scary world.

But I don't regret the person that it's turned me into.

If you're struggling, there are groups online that can help (including the organisation mentioned in this article), as well as resources like Kids Helpline, which helps young people up to the age of 25 (1800 55 1800) or Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636).

Why do some families shun their unbelieving members? Gary Bouma, Emeritus Professor of sociology at Monash University, stresses that in general, it's rare for families to shun members who no longer believe in God. "The simple facts of the matter are, if you have two religious parents, you have a 50 per cent chance of half of your children being religious themselves … so the background is this is something parents have to deal with," he says. But he says a culture of "competitive piety" in some groups or families can fuel ostracisation: This idea that "if you are good because you don't do six things, I'm much better because I don't do 12," Mr Bouma explains. "Competitive piety drives these kinds of high-temperature, very strict, hyper-orthodox kinds of groups. If you violate that, you've violated a really important code of that subgroup."

*Name changed for privacy. Quotes slightly edited for clarity and brevity.