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The most significant thing I have ever done was in fact incredibly simple. A little over four weeks ago, in front of two witnesses, I recited a simple declaration, the shahada. "I bear witness that there is no God but Allah and I bear witness that Mohammed is His messenger," I said; and from that moment, I was a Muslim.

Until the very second that I made my declaration, I wasn't entirely convinced that it was what I wanted to do. Would I wake up one day and want to change my mind? Would I feel like I had made a huge mistake? But already I feel as if my life has been transformed. I don't know how to describe it, but the moment I said those words, my heart filled with joy and love and it took about four days for me to come back down off the ceiling. I would almost describe it as "coming out", because a part of me that has been important, but always very private, is now out in the open.

The ritual of my conversion may have taken only minutes, but it was the culmination of a lifetime's quest. My parents are both agnostic - they don't believe in God, and raised me and my two sisters without any faith, so that we could make up our own minds when we were adults. As a child, I suppose I wanted to please my father, and so tried to mirror his views. But I have always been very conscious that I was looking for something, and I could never quite put my finger on what that was. In my darkest moments I have often felt like a ship adrift at sea, not knowing where to dock.

When I was at college I started investigating faith: I got interested in a philosophical system called the Work, which actually took a lot from Islam, although I didn't know it at the time. I was also investigating various new-age philosophies, practising Buddhist meditation, and reading a lot of alternative self-help books.

I have had some problematic relationships with men in the past, and after splitting up with one boyfriend I read Women Who Love Too Much, by Robin Norwood. I had read it before and had always thought it was for women who were overly attached to men who beat them up. But after this reading I thought: I am one of these women, and I want to do whatever the book suggests. It advised developing your spiritual life, learning to be more self-centred, and perhaps getting counselling. That was a significant turning point. I was also, at that stage, practising reiki, which is similarly concerned with channelling unconditional love. I was wrestling with the concept of the divine, trying to find out where I belonged spiritually. I was definitely a searcher.

And then, suddenly, I found myself going out with a Muslim guy. I hadn't set out to date a Muslim - ironically, in fact, it was the result of a drunken night out (I would describe him as a practising Muslim, but one who made mistakes along the way!). At that stage I was ignorant about Islam. I hadn't had any Muslim friends when I was growing up, and my assumptions about the faith were almost all negative. I thought it old-fashioned, a relic from the dark ages, and one that was oppressive and authoritarian with regard to women.

My sense that the religion was anti-women was one of the major sticking points. I wanted my partner to justify some of the doctrines that I saw as particularly anti-feminist. I went through all the usual western arguments, citing how the religion was about men putting women down. How come Islam permitted men to have four wives?