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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: God

  • for meaningful friendships that allow me to be myself without fear of rejection or judgement regardless of my religious beliefs
  • for red wine and fancy craft beer
  • for being the ‘godless and immoral’ one who is almost always the voice of reason
  • for guiltless, dirty, awesome sex
  • for the courage to leave the church
  • for being truly happy for the first time in my life (yeah. happiness is a real thing even for apostates)
  • for having an ENTIRE EXTRA DAY to do family fun stuff/shopping/work/relaxing
  • for being able to show off my awesome shoulders in sleeveless shirts and dresses
  • for shedding the baggage that makes me feel guilty/sinful for wearing a bikini this summer
  • for Bailey’s in my coffee
  • for being the Honorable Queen Bishop to my FMWAs

Anyone else out there who needs the support of friends when you feel like you have no where else you can go to be supported in your radical/immoral/apostate ideas? Hit me up. I have just the place for you.




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Yesterday morning, my kids didn’t want to get up for school. Go figure. I usually go into the girls’ room and get them up gently  first before I have to go all ape shit to wake up my son. The ‘baby’ was still asleep, snuggly and warm in her bed. I skooched her over and crawled under her covers with her and held her until she woke up. She felt so small and fragile in my arms. I remembered the first years of her life that almost every night we found ourselves in that position while she cuddled and nursed next to me in my bed. Those sweet moments were times that I cherished with all of my kids, but this one was special because she was the last one.

Then she turned two. There’s nothing in particularly wrong with two year olds. I actually love that age. The problem is that I became very dissatisfied with my life. I wanted to escape and I felt like I was trapped. I stopped eating, socializing with friends, smiling, talking, making eye contact, being present in my life. I was a zombie. I still went about my daily activities. I taught my Stroller Strides classes, worked out at my gym, ran errands, all-a-that. But when I got home, I shut down. It took all of my energy to do the other stuff, I had nothing left afterward.

It was during this time, while I was potty training the ‘baby’, I remember wishing out loud that she would just be potty trained already. Then in preschool, then in school, and only 16 more years until she’s outta the house. Once I stopped my shitty pity party, I remarked that I shouldn’t wish away her childhood because one day, I’ll wake up and she will be grown.

But it was HARD. Damned HARD not to want everything different. Hard not to wish I was living a different life in a different place with different people doing different things. 99% of the time, I failed miserably. I hated my life. As silly as it may sound, I tried to hide this from Mr. Tex. He’s a very intuitive person. He wasn’t fooled. He knew something was wrong, and was scared.

Have I mentioned that Mr. Tex is amazing? Because he is. He found out what my problem was. He made me deal with it. He helped me through the worst time in my life. I helped him through the worst time in his life. It didn’t take long for me to be satisfied with my relationship with Mr. Tex. That was the easy part. He loved me despite all the warts.

The hard part was dealing with the expectations and the shoulds. The kids expected me to be a nice mom. I had secretly started drinking coffee, and I was afraid someone would discover me. I was expected to fulfill a calling that I didn’t care about (compassionate service leader is motherfucking hard to do when you are depressed). I (guess) I was supposed to be happy chasing a toddler, homeschooling, cooking, cleaning, and chauffeuring, but I wasn’t.

Life is so complicated, it’s hard to say what event or decision was the turning point. It’s hard to attach a cause to what the problems were. It’s never so cut and dry. What I do know, is that almost three and a half years later, I am good.

Maybe it was all the yoga I have been doing that has taught me to take each moment as it is. To let go of my expectations about what I think I should be doing, and just allow myself to be where I am.

Maybe it was ‘coming out’ to my family and anyone else who enters my kitchen, that I drink coffee because I own a coffee pot. Or having drinks when I am out with Mr. Tex. Or writing it out on my blog for everyone and their child to see so I don’t have to pretend anymore, and so no one has to wonder what’s up with Tex.

Maybe it was deciding that I not only don’t believe in the Mormon church, I don’t believe in God. But the more I think about it, I realize that I never really did. Ever. So, it’s more of a return to formerly held non-beliefs.

Maybe it’s the return of Tex. Tex represents the person who is an open book. Tex has no secrets. Tex is uninhibited and real. She cusses, she drinks, she flirts, she loves.

I lost years of my life during that dark depression. I realized the weight of that yesterday when I was snuggling my big girl in her bed. It reminded me that I have made a resolution. I resolved several months ago not to let a day go by without hugging them. I have kept that promise. It’s my way of remembering each of them the way they are each day so years won’t pass again without the memory of who they were.

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I saw a t-shirt on a friend’s blog the other day that had namaste, bitches written on it. I have been here trying to force some deep, philosophical blog post about the word namaste and its meaning in my life. Seriously, I have been sitting here for the past two hours typing and deleting the same shit.

That’s what I get for fighting against my nature. Nothing. I get shit. You get shit. Thankfully, I’m a considerate-ass mofo and I’m planning to give you more than forced shitty philosophical shit. You’re going to get:


Namaste, loosely defined means the divine in me honors (recognizes) the divine in you. That’s all well and good. I recognize that there is light and beauty in all of us. I think people in general are wonderful. I try my best to bring that out in all of my interactions with people. (Brandi, you’re different.) However, I think this can mean other things too.

How ’bout, “The  bitch in me recognizes the bitch in you”? – Isn’t there something about a smart-ass bitch that makes you NEED to reciprocate?

Let’s try this one: “The judgmental recognizes the judgmental in you” – How many times have you accused someone of being ‘judgmental’ while you’re judging them for being judgmental?

I like this: “The ugly, insecure adolescent recognizes the ugly, insecure adolescent in you” – Come on, you all know he/she is in there. I have pretty much come to terms with my saggy belly button. I have blogged before about my experiences in hot yoga, and how I have had to get over it in order to fully participate. However, some days I feel bloated and extra saggy. It’s on those days when I feel like everyone is staring at me I am comparing myself to everyone else- thus staring at them.

My point – I don’t really know if I have one. OK, I guess the point is that within each of us is god. And I’m not talking about the ‘our father who art in heaven’ god. I’m talking about the bitchy, judgemental, insecure, loving, life-giving, conscience-raising, impatient, nurturing, (you name it), self that makes up who we are. We all are all of those things some of the time. No one is perfect. And it’s by loving people and accepting them how they are – imperfections and all – that we draw closer to the divine that is within each and every one of us.


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I never have been. I guess you could say I grew up Catholic. I did the first Holy Communion thing, but that was really it. I attended CCD for a year or two, but I had no idea what anything meant. We went to church on Easter occasionally. Then they built a new Baptist church right down the street from our house. We stopped going to mass, and started going there. And by going there, I mean the one time a year.

I didn’t grow up in a home where we talked about God. Well, that’s not true. We said, “Oh my God!” pretty frequently, so I guess we called upon God all the time. But I don’t think that’s the same. We spoke of Jesus in quite the same way. As in, “Jesus Christ! You’ve gotten big!” So, I knew that God and Jesus had something to do with one another. I knew the Christmas story, but that’s all it was to me. Just a story.

The first time I had to officially declare my religion was when I joined the Army. They make you tell them so they can put it on your id tags. Ya know, in case you get killed so they can give you a proper burial. Well shit! I didn’t know what to say. So I said Atheist. I didn’t believe in God, at least I didn’t think I did. So what ? I did go to church during basic training, though. Know why?

  1. It got me out of extra chores around the barracks.
  2. I got to talk to the guys in the other companies. (1993, female and male companies were segregated)
  3. Drill sergeants weren’t all up in our asses.

Fast forward 5 years. I’m married and expecting my second child. My husband and I decide we need God in our lives. We both ended up joining the Mormons. I had to be taught about everything about Jesus. I was completely clueless. I didn’t understand it. At. All. It didn’t really make sense to me. I didn’t have any faith. I didn’t know how to have faith. Then they told me about the parable of the mustard seed in Alma 32. I decided that it was good enough to just want to believe in it.  I mean, why not? I was supposed to believe in God, wasn’t I? I hadn’t ever even imagined any of the stuff the missionaries were told me. As of that point, I believed this: You’re born, you live, you die. That’s it. That was all I knew. That was all I had ever experienced. So we joined. It worked for us for a long time. You’ve read the old blog? Right? No? Why the hell not? 1, 2, 3.

I guess the point of all this is that I don’t think I ever really believed in ‘God’. It just never made sense to me that there is some heavenly being out there that is keeping tabs on the good things and the bad things I do in my life. And if I don’t do the right good things, then I will be punished and eternally tormented. I can’t wrap my head around the belief that there is an imaginary person who controls the world and its people and their lives. I always had a problem with the micromanaging Mormon god. (I read that term on someone’s blog and I can’t remember who) I mean, does god really care how many earrings I wear, how many tattoos I have, what kind of underwear I wear? Doesn’t he have more important things to worry about?

And I don’t believe in Santa either. I mean, Satan. Sorry. ‘Tis the Christmas season. Oh yeah, Satan. I don’t believe that shit either. Really? There’s this evil spirit that is on the prowl to capture souls and drag men around with his evil heavy chains making them submit to his will. Yeah, ok, suuure.

So, I’m not religious. I don’t believe in god. Big fuckin’ deal. You should be glad that you’re friends with someone who makes choices based on her own conscience, and not because it would make the god happy. You should also be glad that you know someone who takes responsibility for her own choices and actions, and doesn’t blame satan  for the ‘sinful‘ things she does and feels. Also, be glad that you have a friend who is open  minded, nonjudgemental (unless you use old t-shirts to wipe your ass), uninhibited, and real.

I don’t care if you are Mormon. I don’t care if you believe in god. I don’t care if you believe in faries that live in your garden. Are you honest? Are you kind? Are you respectful? I care if you can answer yes to those questions. That’s what really matters to me. What matters to you?

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