When I first converted from my inherited cultural Catholicism into a truly catechised and informed faith, I wanted to talk about God constantly. It was as if I’d been living in my own version of The Truman Show, unaware that God had been at the centre of everything all along, waiting for me to open the door to His unimposing knock. It was a lightbulb moment, with so much of what had once confused or wounded me beginning to make sense. The lies that had gripped much of my twenties – about love, identity and success – no longer convinced me. I was finally free.