Living Happily Ever After

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You’d Think I’d Be Getting Used To It By Now

“It is best not to swap horses while crossing the river.” (ABRAHAM LINCOLN, reply to National Union League, June 9, 1864)

Given that wise counsel, I didn’t rush to change my name as soon as I remarried. Instead, I remarried and gave myself some time (several weeks!) to adjust to the big change of marrying again before making lots of other changes that typically accompany a life-altering event.

After a long engagement that felt like “living in limbo” in many ways, life was finally moving on–sometimes at the pace of warp speed–or at least that’s what it felt like, to me. Combining households, lives and everything else required official documents in many cases, and some of those changes required the use of my official name. So finally, as a matter of convenience, it was time for that too. Time to change my name.

To be honest, it was a little traumatic. I’ve chronicled some the thoughts and events leading up to that decision; I (still) wondered about its impact on my children; and it wasn’t something I was doing entirely (or even mostly) for me.  In the end, like facing anything uncomfortable or hard or difficult (although compared to that list, it wasn’t TERRIBLY uncomfortable, hard or difficult), it came down to the fact that sometimes you just have to do it: face it, do what must be done, and continue pressing forward. So I left work a little early one day and headed to the Social Security Administration.

I had all the necessary paperwork and required documents. I arrived to find a parking lot full of cars, walked in, the guard took one look at me and announced, “We’re closed.”

I thought he was kidding. It was 4 p.m. on a Thursday! You can’t believe what it had taken for me to get there, to that location, at that time, with everything I needed to make that huge change. It HAD to be a joke. “You’re joking, right?” I asked.

The guard told me he wasn’t kidding, they were closed. When I asked what time they had closed, he told me four o’clock. I said, “Well that’s what time it is now.” He replied, “Nope, it’s now 4:01 p.m. Come back another day!”

I could have screamed. (Not literally.) But I walked away, I confess, just a little bit frustrated. However, that moment, second marriage moment #5, was not lost on me. I’d been through remarriage counseling and had been remarried long enough to see that my first attempt to change my name was simply representative of the entire remarriage experience: it’s not simple or easy. It’s different than marrying the first time. It’s more complicated than you think it’s going to be. Why was I surprised that even changing my name went right along with the rest of the experience?

That’s not to say it’s not worth it. I believe that it is, it’s just not simple or easy all of the time. Pretty much like life. Especially the unexpected one. You’d think I’d be getting used to that by now…

“Issues are never simple. One thing I’m proud of is that very rarely will you hear me simplify the issues.” (Barack Obama)


Wake Up Fresh And Continue

“The day before is what we bring to the day we’re actually living through, life is a matter of carrying along all those days-before just as someone might carry stones, and when we can no longer cope with the load, the work is done…” (Jose Saramago, “The Cave”)

And then it was the day before my wedding.

Those months of soul searching following the revelations that led to my unexpected life; the shock, grief and loneliness that had once been mine day in and day out during the aftermath of an unexpected divorce and move to a new state; the dating, the bachelors, the going it alone without parents or a partner came to a screeching halt.

I was getting married the very next day–if all went well.

It was a bit more complicated than the first time, though. I didn’t just have to show up at the ceremony, packed and ready to depart on a honeymoon afterward, without a care in the world.

I had to finish my work and meet some deadlines. I had grand plans to make a wedding gift for #5 and had procrastinated finishing it, so I had to get that done. I had to arrange for childcare while I was gone. I had to make sure my house was clean enough for someone to stay in during my absence and for #5 to move in to when we returned from our honeymoon. I had to make sure financial details were taken care of and that there was food in the house for my children while I was gone. I had to make sure I had not just my wedding dress and was packed for a honeymoon, but I had to make sure my children’s wedding clothes, etc…were clean, and packed, as well! LOTS of details to remember and attend to.

But I did it. I worked all day, rushed home, went to the bank, went to the grocery store, did laundry, packed, loaded the car with everything I needed to take to Ephraim, Utah, including my younger children, drove there and arrived safely that night. My sisters and their families helped with final wedding preparations. I even finished #5′s wedding gift that night, thanks to help from my sister. And after all of that, I was still in bed by midnight or 1 a.m..

My last night as a single woman was also very different than the first time. The first time, in the 1980s, I was in a hotel room with my mom and my sisters, so nervous I couldn’t sleep. My mom gave me a tranquilizer to calm me down but it didn’t help and my sister and I lay awake in bed, talking and laughing, until the wee hours of the morning. (Actually, we didn’t go to sleep until my mom reprimanded us, just like she had when we were little girls!)

But in 2011, the night before my wedding, I slept alone. In my sister’s basement. (Although she came to check on me once or twice through the night.) And I was so relaxed and calm I couldn’t believe it. I went to sleep and actually slept! However, I woke up unexpectedly at some point in the night.

I couldn’t sleep.

And then I couldn’t quit thinking. Even worse, I was thinking about things I never expected to think about–and it was hard to think about some of it: dreams I’d had as a little girl; experiences I’d shared with my parents, knowing they weren’t alive to share one of my most important of experiences, marriage to #5; everything that had led me to the new marriage opportunity, including the shocking revelations, the Ponzi scheme, the divorce, the move, the aloneness, everything I had been through and everything I had learned.

It was sort of a life in review. I think it was me, Andrea Merriman, doing some introspection on the eve of one of the most important events of my life. Allowing myself to look back one final time. I had forgiven, I had healed and was continuing to heal. I guess I was making sure I’d made peace with it all; getting ready to take a major step forward. I couldn’t help it; I had one final, brief, cry. And I went back to sleep, knowing the next time I awoke, it would be my wedding day.

“But the important thing is to lie down and fall asleep. That little nap means you wake up fresh again and can continue.” (James Levine)

Bachelor #19: The Barracuda

“I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge? (Douglas Adams)

The following is not going to sound like it’s coming from a woman in her 40s, college educated, who has seen her fair share of the world, but here it is:

If I was a baby guppy fish, Bachelor #19 was a barracuda!

Don’t get me wrong. Bachelor #19 was a law abiding citizen and a good person. I don’t want to give the mistaken impression that he was dangerous–not in the axe-murderer, serial killer sense of the word anyway. It’s just that he was handsome, several years older than me, and CLEARLY much more experienced and worldly-wise than I was.

We had different core beliefs, values and lifestyles. He had grandchildren, I had a four-year-old.

So I’m not sure what the attraction was for him. I never asked him. He just always said, “My gosh, you’re cute!” (But not in those exact words. I’ve edited his colorful way of expressing himself.) And he asked me out. A lot.

But he made me nervous.

He made me feel as if I was getting in way over my head. I think I was. But at least I was smart enough to sense that. So I took the cowardly approach and was “busy” every time he asked me out. I quit returning his calls.

“If you define cowardice as running away at the first sign of danger, screaming and tripping and begging for mercy, then yes, Mr. Brave man, I guess I’m a coward.” (Jack Handy)

The thing I remember most about Bachelor #19, aside from his colorful language and the “something” about him that made me nervous, was how patient he was to me in my cowardice. He didn’t get mean, rude or hostile. He continued to be kind, patient, complimentary and understanding of my hesitation. Until one day, he finally gave up and quit asking me out.

“Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.” (Dr. Seuss)

Goodbye, Bachelor #19.

This fish isn’t biting.