Living Happily Ever After
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Blog Articles

Volumes of “Lies”

Date: April 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I got a fun comment and suggestion from a former Colorado neighbor (that identity alone should explain what is coming) and client of my former spouse the other day. He, along with many others, has discovered this blog and is apparently QUITE a fan! He not only takes the time to read it, he even spends time commenting.

He kindly pointed out I’ve mistakenly titled my blog. He suggested the title of this blog should be “lies, lies and more lies.” In his honor, and to give credit where credit is due, I feel compelled to blog about that.

The first thing I did when I saw it was LAUGH. I got a kick out of his suggestion not just because it is totally ridiculous (and inaccurate) but because, in a way, I could relate.

You see, I have been a pretty good journal writer most of my life. I got my first journal about age 12 and have been quite consistent over the years in recording the events of my life. In 2009, after my former spouse revealed that He had been running a ponzi scheme most of our marriage, that He was heading to prison, that everything I thought we had was gone, and that I would be left alone to raise and provide for our four children, I had to prepare to move from our home and begin a new life. Having lived in the same home for 16 years, there was a lot of work to be done. Lots of packing. And one day I got to packing the room my old journals were stored in.

As I looked at the approximately 30 volumes I’d written over the previous years of my life, I didn’t know what to do with them.  I treasured the books I’d written as a youth and college student–everything prior to my marriage to Him.  But what to do with the journals recording the life I’d led married to a criminal? As I handled each one, I wasn’t sure what to think of them anymore.

Although what I had written and recorded was life as I had known it (because I had no idea what was going on in the double life my spouse had been leading for 15 years or even that he was living a double life), in that moment, none of the history I’d recorded seemed true or real. At that time, everything was so tainted by the dishonesty and criminal behavior of one man, I felt like I was in possession of Volume 1 of Lies, Volume 2 of Lies, and so on.

What DO you do with volumes of words that don’t seem to be real anymore?

I still haven’t decided.

But I’m afraid I’m going to need a storage unit for the memories! lol. A place to hold the volumes of personal history, the wedding photos from 1989, and everything else that is not mine anymore…that I still am not sure what to do with.  The only thing I’m sure of is time.

I have time to decide.

Because,”Time heals what reason cannot.” (Seneca, Roman philosopher in the mid-1st century A.D.)

No Instinct Whatsoever

Date: March 21, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I arrived “home.”  My spouse met me in the back yard, handed me a phone, told me it was his attorney, and that his attorney wanted to speak with me.

I took the phone, put it to my ear, the attorney introduced himself and said, “Andrea, I know we haven’t met yet, but I am so sorry for the day you must be having.  I can’t imagine what you must be thinking and how you must be feeling.  I am so sorry for the circumstances that led to this day for you and your children. And I’m sorry for the many days ahead.”

I don’t know what I expected from an attorney.  I’d never spoken to one, professionally, before.  But I didn’t expect him to be so kind to me, yet at the same time, I was completely distrustful.  I didn’t know who or what to believe any more.  The kind tone of his voice made me begin to cry. Again.

I asked, through my tears, “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? How do I know you are who you say you are? How do I know you aren’t involved in all of this and that this is not just another deception for my benefit? How can I believe anything you say?”

He told me he could understand why I felt that way and all he could do was assure me he had never met or heard of my spouse until two days earlier, when my spouse had walked into the attorney’s legal office and confessed what He had done.

I wish I were a better writer.  I wish I had the capability to express how scared I was; how alone I felt; and how it felt to turn to a literal stranger on the phone.  But I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t know who to trust or even who to turn to for help.  I felt like a fugutive.  And I needed someone to tell me what to do.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

He told me I needed to hire an attorney.  I, who had never cheated in school; I, who had never stolen so much as a grape from the grocery store without paying for it; I, who had always tried to live a life of complete and total integrity; I, who wouldn’t even let myself indulge in “white lies” needed an attorney? I couldn’t comprehend it.  I could not believe the position I was in through no fault or action of my own.  And it scared me.

But his next words terrified me.

“And whatever you do, don’t go near a bank.  Don’t touch any of your bank accounts.  Don’t try to access any money!” he warned.

OOPS.

Don’t you love how my one and only reaction was THE ONLY THING I should not have done? Obviously, I wasn’t cut out for a life of crime.  I just don’t have the natural instinct for it. Another reason to never try sky diving.