Living Happily Ever After
test123

Blog Articles

The 13th Clown

Date: January 20, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

Funny how a 7-day cruise flies by when you have to sing a solo in front of hundreds of people on the last night! At least, that’s how it was for me. Thank goodness for dress rehearsals!

Just kidding. I mean, it was nice to know where to stand on the stage (the big “X”). But I confess, it made me nervous when the handsome young cast member/dancer from Australia told me not to move too much as I sang…because my male backup dancers would be dancing all around me. Wearing short-shorts and tight tiny t-shirts. And their moves had to be something to behold (I couldn’t see them, as they were dancing behind me) because my husband commented several times about them.

Oh, good. Then the dance moves would match the lyrics.

The song? “Like A Virgin.”

When I heard what I had to sing, I wanted to die. ”I can’t sing this!” I told my husband.

“Sure you can, you’ve heard it before. You’re an 80s girl. You listened to Madonna, you know this song!” he remarked.

“Well apparently, I never listened to the words—or I didn’t understand them if I did,” I said. “I’m older now, I’m a newlywed, and I can’t believe them! I should be mortified!” I exclaimed. (Thank goodness for Ponzi schemes, crime, public divorce and familial downfall to take away any sense of mortification or humiliation. I told you, I can’t be humiliated anymore!)

But it was too late to do anything about it. My husband told me the show was counting on me. It was too late to get anyone else to do it. So like the unexpected life, sometimes you’ve just got to push through it. My sister-in-law helped me do 1980s makeup (and blue eye shadow), I cringed as I put on every article of the provided costume—black boots, black bustier, pink netting skirt—and comforted myself that at least I wouldn’t know anyone in the audience.

Turns out, I was wrong about that too.

“If there are 12 clowns in a ring, you can jump in the middle and start reciting Shakespeare, but to the audience, you’ll just be the 13th clown.” (Adam Walinsky)

Second Marriage Moment #27

Date: November 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

Second Marriage Moment #27 actually occurred before I married my husband. One night he called to tell me his son and his son’s friends were coming to my house to hang out. He told me the expectations he had shared with his son—and I made the mistaken assumption that he told me the rules he’d established so I could follow through and enforce them!

Wrong.

The son and his friends did things my fiance/husband had specifically forbidden and I called the son on it right away, as soon as I saw it transpire. In my culture, you see a wrong committed and you correct it then and there. It doesn’t matter who’s around. There’s no yelling or anger, you stop the behavior, re-establish expectations, and carry on.

Also in my culture: parents back each other up. If they disagree on parenting or anything else, they back each other up to the kids and resolve their differences privately. No big deal.

Except for one little thing which made it a BIG DEAL.

In my fiance/husband’s family, experience and culture, you take care of things later. After the friends are gone. All correction is done privately and to do anything else equals humiliation of the highest degree. (And the whole parents backing each other up thing? That never happened either.)

Oops. Second marriage moment #27 was a disaster.

Turns out, my fiance/husband had modified the rules after he’d told me what he expected, so his son hadn’t actually been disobedient; I just didn’t know that. In support of his father’s parenting, I called the son on his behavior immediately, and while his friends were in the vicinity—so I disciplined him AND humiliated him, according to his culture, in one moment, at the same time!

Way to go, Andrea!

Sometimes even I outdo myself.

But we got through it.

We talked it out as parents. I apologized to my stepson. And to his credit, he didn’t hold a grudge. In fact, this far past it…I can shake my head and laugh at the senseless disaster of it all. I mean, ” The next best thing to solving a problem is finding some humor in it,” (Frank Clark) right?

I learned a lot from second marriage moment #27 and to laugh at it, continues the tradition of laughing at everything we can, instead of choosing to be overwhelmed by it, or get mad, at it all.

“I realize humor isn’t for everyone. It’s only for people who want to have fun, enjoy life and feel alive.” (“Real Life Quotes” blog, December 24, 2010, by Kevin Rayner)

Keep laughing.

You Glimpse Tomorrow’s Embarrassment

Date: August 12, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Every day, I have a most embarrassing moment.” (Steven Hill)

Upon entering my unexpected life, that was certainly true. Over and over again, day after day, I lived under intense scrutiny and through the utmost humiliation. (To me, in my world. There was nothing like losing my entire life, and so publicly, and for so many wrongs perpetuated.) But some days, some times, are like that. And eventually, they pass.

The good news? I survived the embarrassment. (We always do, don’t we?) Not to mention the added bonus that the whole thing certainly put humiliation into perspective for me: not much mortifies me any more, and there is a certain comfort and sense of security in that.

I was pretty sure I was “unembarrassable” after 2009.

And then I got remarried.

I think it was Jasmine who sang, “It’s a whole new world.” And it has led to a few memorable moments I might once have considered embarrassing. (Thank goodness nothing embarrasses me anymore, huh?)

“Have you ever gotten the feeling that you aren’t completely embarrassed yet, but you glimpse tomorrow’s embarrassment?” (Tom Cruise)

First Date

Date: May 21, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you’re a young Mafia gangster out on your first date, I bet it’s real embarrassing if someone tries to kill you.” (Jack Handy)

Who can forget their first date?

My mom fondly recalled her first date many times over the course of my life: she was 5 years old, and went to a movie at a movie theater with a boy and his parents. She was a friendly gal, and dated a lot during her childhood and early teens, and then it was recommended by L.D.S. church leaders that dating be delayed until the age of 16 so she stopped dating–until she turned 16 years old!

I remember my first date: Derek.

It was late August 1983 after I had turned 16 years old. The boy I’d had a crush on since the moment I first laid eyes on him (at 14 years old) had asked me out and my friend, Carrie, had come over to help me get ready. I talked and hung out with her while I did my hair and makeup and decided what to wear–and she gave me a pedicure, which I promptly covered up when I put my Topsiders on! It was the 1980s, so of course my hair was something to behold, and accented by the skinny tie (anyone remember wearing those?) that completed my ensemble. We saw the movie, “Strange Brew,” and had a great time. It was a first date with no regrets, or embarrassing moments, that I can recall.

My daughter’s first date was an entirely different experience: Eric.

She went to a school dance with the boy she sits by in Chemistry class, a fun and casual friend. Watching my daughter get ready, and helping her, was a total flashback to the 1980s as she was headed to a decades-themed dance and she and her date had chosen 1980s exercise wear. I helped her find a Jelly belt, tear her sweatshirt to hang off the shoulder, find neon-colored tank tops to layer, get her hair in THE  high side ponytail, with her green eyeshadow (what can I say, we couldn’t find any blue eyeshadow in the house!) and with her hot pink headband (just like Olivia Newton John’s in “Lets Get Physical.”) It wasn’t in the original plan that my daughter drive on the date, but due to car troubles of other parties involved, she ended up driving her car. And accidentally, while slowly backing up, she backed into a friend’s car.

It was dark. Neither she nor her date saw the other car. Thankfully, she backs up really slowly. Thankfully, no damage occurred to either car or to any living being. In fact, the driver of the other car got out, hugged my daughter and told her it was no big deal. I was very relieved there was no damage to people or automobiles; but my daughter was so mortified about the whole thing she wasn’t even dwelling on that. That event overshadowed every other aspect of her first date. That event was what she talked about when she got home. Even late the NEXT evening she was still worrying about it, alone in her bedroom, so I went to check on her.

She was absolutely humiliated, mortified, and didn’t want to show her face anywhere, ever, again. I tried to help her put it into perspective so I said, “Sarah, you can survive this. Just think of other hugely embarrassing things you’ve overcome.”

“Like what?” she asked.

I was stunned. Had the events of 2009 faded that fast in her teenage mind? I clarified, “Like discovering a family member stole millions of dollars, was heading to prison, it was all over the national media, we lost everything and had to watch the government come into our home and take our possessions, some people were mean to us, other people were kind to us yet we had to rely on the charity of others…ALL of those embarrassing moments we endured. If you can survive that humiliation, you can get through anything! This is nothing compared to that.”

Adding that last sentence reminded me that embarrassment and humiliation is all in your perspective. It was also a mistake; add it to the many that continually stream from my mouth, far too often, as I say what I think pretty much as soon as I think it. Call it one of my many weaknesses.

My daughter countered that her experience was far more embarrassing than the one I referenced. I was stunned! I couldn’t believe she really thought that, but she did. She drove her point home (no pun intended, lol!) when she added, “And Mom, if you think criminals, Ponzi schemes, publicity, divorce, prison, crime, government seizure and everything else is more embarrassing than backing into another car on a date…you don’t know ANYTHING about teenage girls!”

Wow. How could I have gotten so old and so far removed from being a teenage girl? And how could I have failed my daughter like that?

You see, one of the great things about being my mother’s daughter is that no matter my embarrassing moment, when I returned home mortified about something that had happened to me, my mom could totally commiserate and share an embarrassing moment from her life that absolutely outdid mine, made me laugh and made me feel so much better about my humiliation! In fact, she survived such mortification that as an adult, friends would call after something embarrassing and ask, “Tell me a story about your mom to make me feel better so I can get through this most recent humiliation.” I thought that’s what mothers are for–and I wasn’t able to do that for mine! (Although I must be blinded by my past, because I could swear 2009 is the ultimate in humiliation. I can’t see myself ever being embarrassed about anything again, after that one!)

So I quit trying to reason with my daughter, stopped attempting to help her put embarrassment into perspective and just empathized with her. I promised that someday, we will look back on her first date…and laugh; we’ll even be the better for it, and we’ll be strong.

“But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” (Christian Bale)

Now if we can only be totally hot when we have as much character, strength and wisdom as Batman, we’ll be absolutely set for…The Unexpected Life.

Loss

Date: May 18, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“And yet, I suppose you mourn the loss or the death of what you thought your life was, even if you find your life is better after. You mourn the future that you thought you’d planned.”  (Lynn Redgrave)

It has been two years since my unexpected life began. I haven’t been haunted by the events that led to it for quite some time and then out of the blue, unexpectedly, I dreamed of a moment connected to it (not one of my favorite moments, by the way) and I could not shake the memory of it when I awoke.

The experience I dreamed of occurred a few weeks after certain events ended my life as I knew it. One ramification of the unexpected situation was that I was released from serving as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation. Another ramification of it was that due to the public nature of my former husband’s crimes and positions of leadership he had held within our church, The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, local church leadership determined it was necessary to publicly address some of it to congregations our family had been closely associated with. My church leaders were very kind about it all; they told me it was necessary and explained why; they told me the day they were going to do it so I could be prepared (and probably, if I were smarter and raised by different parents, so that I could be absent from those meetings that day.) But unfortunately, I had been taught differently than that–taught to face what needs to be faced and that trials and tragedy don’t change what is right or what is expected of us.

It was a poignant lesson I learned in 1986 when my dad unexpectedly died in a plane crash. I was a teenager and dreaded going to church that Sunday after he died. He had been a leader in our congregation and I didn’t want to face people (even people I loved or people who loved me and my family) and I had a sneaking suspicion my mom was planning that our family would attend church. Late Saturday night I asked, “We don’t have to go to church tomorrow, do we?”

My mom was firm in her resolve and her answer. “Of course we do! Just because your dad isn’t here doesn’t mean the rest of us can stop living and it certainly doesn’t change what is right. We believe in going to church on Sunday, that is what we have always done and that is what we will continue to do.” She was a strong woman in a gentle kind of way (I don’t want to make her sound harsh–she was anything but that.) She took our family to church despite the loss we’d experienced just two days previously (although she relented a little bit and let us arrive 5 minutes late so we wouldn’t have to talk to anyone before the meeting.)

Interestingly, when our unexpected life began, one of my children asked me a question very similar to the one I’d asked my own mother 23 years before, “Mom, we don’t have to go to church this Sunday, do we?” and I gave an answer very similar to the one my mom had given me and we went to church and continued to attend each Sunday, regardless of some uncomfortable moments.

Like the Sunday I dreamed of recently. The Sunday I had to sit and endure public comments about my personal situation that was so public– comment about my former spouse’s crimes and the situation he created as a result. It was also the day the new presidency of the women’s organization of our congregation publicly recognized me, gave me a bouquet of flowers and thanked me for my service; and then after that, the leader of our cluster of congregations (known as a stake president) stood and addressed the issues that needed to be publicly discussed. I don’t remember a lot about that day, I mostly remember sitting in the back of the room, tears of grief, shame, humiliation, sorrow (and a host of other feelings and emotions) streaming down my cheeks as I stared at the beautiful flowers in my lap and endured what was being said to the women around me. I do remember a woman sitting by me on the back row, patting my arm or giving my shoulder a squeeze, through the whole thing. I can’t remember who she was, but how much I appreciated her kindness to me at that time! She helped me feel slightly less alone and helped me get through a very difficult moment.

That was a tough experience but I got through it and it’s now a part of my past. I honestly haven’t let myself think too much about it, or look back on it, until that recent morning when I woke up, tears streaming down my face. And #5 was asleep next to me in bed!

I was shocked. It has been two years! I am living a new life, remarried to a wonderful man, and I wake up crying over something that happened two years ago? I felt a little bit crazy. I didn’t want #5 to see, or know, he was married to such a wacky wife that dreamed about the past and woke up crying! I confess, I even felt a little bit guilty as I am the recipient of many miracles and kindness and have much to be thankful for; I have the great blessing to be remarried and am truly happy again–I can’t (or shouldn’t) be crying about the past (even if it was unintentional–something I woke up doing in a dream!)

I quickly got up to hide my insanity, pulled myself together and went on about my day. Except that I couldn’t quite shake the feelings that dream left me with. I felt slightly emotionally “off.” And that was just the start of the day.

“Going back to Ireland involves at least six to seven emotional breakdowns for me per day.” (Anjelica Huston)

Stay tuned. More emotional breakdowns to come.

If They Could Read

Date: April 30, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“In Hollywood, the woods are full of people that learned to write but evidently can’t read. If they could read their stuff, they’d stop writing.” (Will Rogers)

I live in Utah now, not Hollywood, and I enjoy the woods up Provo Canyon my fair share.

Just two years ago I lost everything I thought was my life, except my four children, and had to make sense of the unexpected events handed me. I had the world’s share of shame, humiliation and unwanted publicity; my fair share of ups and downs, failures and successes; but I realized again, with each passing day, that life is always a choice and your life will be exactly what you make of it. (Granted, sometimes you’re blessed with better material to work with than at other times, but you can always choose to find happiness and to experience joy regardless of your life conditions. You can always strive to look on the bright side and to treat others with kindness despite the misery of your current situation. )

In this blog I’ve explained some of what I’ve lived through, how I’ve chosen to respond and why I’ve done the things I’ve done and any and all mistakes that I have made. I’ve shared all that I’ve hoped for and worked toward, the unexpected experiences I never imagined I’d have, the things I’ve learned and their outcomes. And while I know not every unexpected life results in a happy ending of complete and utter perfection, I believe you can choose to create your own fairy tales and live happily ever after.

For example, Cinderella lived through a lot of hard stuff. It’s not fun being left penniless (been there, done that!), orphaned (I can relate to that) and at the mercy of a wicked stepmother. Cinderella, with the help of her fairy godmother and her friends (mice and other farm animals) did find her handsome prince, yet she never got her mom or dad back in this life–not every thing, not every aspect, of Cinderella’s unexpected life became total perfection at the end of her story, but she did live happily ever after.

I’m grateful for that example. Fairy tales are magical. They’re great stories. They’re a wonderful escape. They give us hope. And they can teach us important things. As I look back at my life and the countless hours I spent in the nurture of fairy tale fiction, I realize fairy tales helped give me dreams; they gave me something to set my little girl sights on, so that when I grew up and and was thrust into the worst nightmare I never imagined possible, I had all of those fictional examples of triumph over tragedy, all of those imaginary happily ever afters, to help me hold on and cling to the real dreams I’d once had. They gave me courage to press forward and keep going, to create a new chapter of my story and to live a new version of my happily ever after.

A happy ending doesn’t mean complete and total restoration of what you had before. Instead, I believe it is embracing what you have now been given, looking for the good, and choosing to be happy in your new story while working to create a new and continuing happy ending for yourself and your loved ones.

It was the same with Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, Rose Red, Thumbelina, The Goose Girl and every other fairy tale heroine. Not necessarily a “perfect” ending, but a fairy tale perfect for them.

THAT is life.

Every single one.

Every unexpected one, because I believe we all have one.

But enough of that. Never let it be said that I can’t read–or understand Will Rogers’ wisdom–so I’ll close with this:

My undying thanks to everyone who was there for me in my old life, when my mostly-perfect world fell apart, during my divorce, and as I began a new life. Thanks to all who helped my children, who helped me, who shared our journey in person or via this blog, and for every single person who reached out to me and my family and shared their love and kindness with us. Every single one of you is known and remembered by us. Every single kindness will never be forgotten. We are better because of each of you.

In fact, we made it, thanks to you.

We’re going to live happily ever after.

The End.

As in, that’s the end of this portion of my story. Feel free to check in for occasional posts about life and my entirely new and unexpected life experiences in remarriage and as a stepmother. Like every other aspect of the unexpected life, it’s completely uncharted territory. I’m sure I’ll make my fair share of mistakes along the way, the only thing I can promise about all of it is that I’ll NEVER intentionally be a wicked stepmother! And I have a feeling, if it goes the way everything else has, it’s going to be quite another unexpected ride!

Winter Eventually Becomes Summer…If You Just Don’t Quit

Date: November 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

At times in my life I’ve lived through experiences that seemed to be “just like the movies,” for good and for bad.

Like the day Federal Agents drove up to my Colorado home for the first time, in their caravan of dark SUVs with dark tinted windows, and every agent got out of the vehicle they were riding in wearing dark sunglasses and navy blue jackets with “U.S. Marshalls” embroidered on the back. I remember standing at the front window of my home, watching their arrival scene that appeared to be straight out of Hollywood, wondering how it could possibly be my experience. It was completely surreal, yet unfortunately, real; real enough I was terrified.

But there was nothing I could do. I had to be there, I had nowhere else to go, so I simply had to endure it.

In reality, every agent was very nice and respectful. Although my fear never left me (it’s hard not to feel fearful when a bunch of government agents are in your home because you, and everyone else, have discovered the man you’ve been married to for almost 20 years has secretly been committing a crime to the tune of 14 years and 20 million dollars), I got through it.

Sometimes, that’s all you can do.

Get through it despite the fear and uncertainty. Face what you dread. And although it doesn’t make you feel particularly courageous when you’re afraid, I’ve learned that facing your fear and not quitting in its face, is courage in itself.

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” (Nelson Mandela)

Some days, getting through the day without quitting means you’ve conquered fear. It’s courageous just to carry on. Even if things don’t turn out the way you hoped. To never quit is brave. To press forward is triumphant. And eventually, the fear goes away. Or you learn that you can survive experiences that are epically fear-inducing and come out just fine on the other side of them, with time.

I’m so glad I never quit, despite the many moments I wished I could have!

Because in those cold, dark moments of dread, indescribable fear, utter humiliation and hardship you’re tempted to think will never end, they do. Life goes on after them. And you learn things about yourself you never knew.

“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” (Albert Camus)

Summer has always been my favorite season.

Therapy Is Kinda Like…

Date: September 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder how I do these things. I can embarrass myself so badly that I literally get a hot prickle down the back of my neck.” (Daisy Donovan)

That used to be me thanks to some unforgettable experiences, like once having my skirt fall off me as I stood talking to a man, and a few other embarrassing moments which should probably be blog posts in and of themselves someday. But my unexpected life, and the criminal behavior of my former spouse related to his Ponzi scheme, the public downfall of my family and my divorce, all took care of redefining what humiliation and embarrassment mean to me these days. I don’t sweat the small stuff, like “embarrassing moments” anymore.

However, that evening, sitting in the counseling office, realizing I had dated the therapist’s brothers and NOT married them and was now seeking counsel to avoid a second divorce if Bachelor #5 and I tied the knot, I fought a slight feeling of mortification. “PLEASE don’t tell your brothers I’m divorced and seeking remarriage counseling from you,” I begged. He assured me he wouldn’t say a word.

However, because he wasn’t really a stranger anymore, for some reason I felt a little more comfortable with him and opened up more. After the session ended Bachelor #5 commented on how interesting it was that I was so close-mouthed toward a stranger, yet when I made a connection with him, I was a lot more willing to talk. (Just one more thing to love about Bachelor #5. He “gets” me. I’ve had more epiphanies about myself, things I do and why I do them, since knowing him, than I feel like I had the entire rest of my previous life. He’s observant, smart, and puts 2 and 2 together to equal four– when I don’t even realize there’s an equation to be solved.)

As we left the appointment, I couldn’t believe what a small world the realm of counseling made it. I was filled with disbelief about my connection to the counselor, too. Bachelor #5 simply replied, “Well, what do you expect when you’ve dated, or attempted to date, the entire world?” And he laughed.

“Being in therapy is great. I spend an hour just talking about myself. It’s kinda like being the guy on a date.” (Caroline Rhea)

The BIG “Board Breaker” (And A Bright Spot)

Date: August 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

There was a time in my life when the following board breaker would have been, possibly, the ultimate humiliation.

But it’s funny how your perspective changes when you discover the man you have loved, trusted and been married to for 20 years has been running a Ponzi scheme, stealing millions of dollars, is heading to prison, and shatters your world very publicly ending in a divorce publicized in local and national media. (Just what every young girl dreams of. Not!)

Given the fact I’ve lived through what I believe is one of the more tragic yet embarrassing experiences, at least in my world, I’m not sure I have it in me to be mortified any more. Thankfully I’m unable to be embarrassed, because I’m still single and the following board breaker illustrates what single women are up against.

Single men.

Sometimes rejection.

Possible humiliation. (If you haven’t already lived through an ultimate humiliation, that is.)

One night, I went to a single’s dance alone. I danced, met some new friends, and then headed out for a break. When I returned, a song from the 80s that I loved was playing. So I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I decided to ask someone to dance. I looked around, found a man near me, asked, “Would you like to dance?”

And he said, “No.”

I was shocked! I never expected THAT. My parents taught me to never say no, regardless of who the boy was or what I thought of him. And there I was, rejected! Just like that. I know I’m not the biggest catch, but clearly, that man was not raised by parents. Lol.

I’m sure the shock showed in my face because he tried to explain that he’d had his eye on someone all night and wanted to catch her as she came off the dance floor. But it didn’t really help me. I couldn’t prevent the following thoughts: “What bad manners! How rude! What a loser!” And finally, “Well, you can’t expect to appeal to every one… especially VERY ordinary single men!”

I decided those dances didn’t work for me. And then, like Mr. Board Breaker who wouldn’t give up although his audience is cringing at his failure, he’s swaying on his feet from beating himself over the head with a board time and time again to no avail, I tried another dance the following month! (I know–slow learner.)

I danced, met some new friends, took a break, and then an 80s song I loved came on as I returned to the room. I didn’t want to miss the song, so I decided to ask a man to dance. What are the odds of a man saying no when you ask him to dance? I’d already experienced my “once in a lifetime” rejection at the last dance, so what did I have to lose by asking a man to dance a second time?

Apparently, what little dignity I had left because I asked a much less ordinary man to dance and HE said no!

He had an excuse, too. He said he had injured his leg and couldn’t dance. (Then WHY had he gone to a dance?) But at least he was nice, friendly, talkative and shared some singles information with me for the next few songs we didn’t dance. He told me to friend him on Facebook and he’d introduce me to lots of single people and singles activities. I tried to believe his excuse was real, and I didn’t see him dance once the entire night, so maybe it was the truth. But it was still a rejection!

At a subsequent dance I saw the same man (Reject #2, lets call him), this time dancing, and thought, “Hmm! His leg must be better.” I didn’t give him the evil eye or anything, I didn’t even stare at him, but before I knew it, the song had ended and he made his way over to me and asked me to dance–three songs in a row. So maybe he rejected me for a legitimate reason? Or maybe he was just trying to make up for his initial bad manners! Lol.

Too bad I’m not a gambler. Sometimes I have incredible luck. I mean, what are the odds of asking a man to dance and getting rejected? And getting rejected two dances in a row? For that matter, what are the odds of marrying a man who does what my former spouse did?

Lucky me.

However, a bright spot in the single life, a bit of glue that helps me hold it all together and keeps me going in the social “game” of dating and the unexpected life that is now mine, are singles lunches. (And I owe them to the second man who rejected me. He told me he’d introduce me to some great single people and singles activities and he did.)

Singles lunches are the best thing I’ve done as a single woman. They’re the most fun I’ve had, too. It’s just a group of singles under 45 years old who get together once a week for lunch. A different restaurant every week. You pay for yourself. And right up front the group informs you: don’t come to fall in love; just come, eat lunch and make friends.

The lunches are no pressure. They don’t cut into my evenings or my time with my children. I’ve only met friends there. Kind friends who text or call me to check on me occasionally or to let me know of a great activity I shouldn’t miss. Those lunches are my oasis in the desert of my single life! (A little dramatic, I’m just trying to emphasize how great I think they are. Thanks, Adam, for inventing them and coordinating them. I have loved participating in them!)

A bright spot amid my share of board breakers!

And yet, the dating continues despite the board breakers.

I just can’t give up searching for that happy ending.

Except For That One Time…

Date: May 5, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my limited experience as the mother of four children, there have been various challenges to address and “work on” as I teach and train them to grow to become all that I dream for them. One of those challenges is teaching honesty.

It seems like it’s a lesson that cycles. When they’re very young, the lesson is about not taking things that don’t belong to you, and it usually includes a trip or two BACK to a store to return something they’ve put in their pocket without my knowledge. As they grow and get a little older, the lesson becomes about always telling the truth–not lying to avoid a consequence; for example, not saying their homework is done when it really isn’t so they can go out and play with friends.

I’m still working on this with one of my younger children. Yesterday was no exception. In fact, the attempts to utilize every teaching moment are still in place and are actually more vital than ever because I work full-time and my time with my children is limited by my work. (But again, I am not complaining. I am grateful to have a job.)

As we discussed the importance of honesty at all times, in all things, and in all places AGAIN, and set a goal to strive for that AGAIN, and then as my son walked away to play after we chatted, I couldn’t help but remember one particular moment in 2009. A moment I’d been tempted to lie. It had been a moment among all moments for me. A challenge to my personal integrity and honesty. And until today, I wasn’t sure if I had been a failure or a success.

Here’s what happened.

The day of my move from Colorado to Utah was approaching. It was late afternoon and I’d taken a break from packing to let my three-year-old play outside. He was riding his little bike at the top of our driveway and I kept an eye on him, sure that we were being watched by neighbors as we did so, but I was getting quite used to living in the glare of the spotlight…and the binoculars…and under the hostile gaze of those around me. I had learned to do my thing, to do what I thought was right for my children (and even smile, occasionally, to give the appearance that I was having fun doing it) and to ignore those who spent their time watching me do it!

Soon a neighbor wandered up the driveway, trying to look nonchalant but headed my direction. (This neighbor had not been a client of my spouse’s, but had been very vocal in the media and willing to be interviewed about the situation as she saw it. Her home was the scene of the neighborhood gathering the day the U.S. Marshalls seized the items from our property; her husband was the man who photographed the goings on at our home as he leaned over the fence to do it.) I couldn’t imagine what she wanted to talk to me about. I soon found out.

She wanted to know when I was moving, wanted to know the exact day. She wanted to know where I was moving to, the exact city. She wanted to know how I had a place to live. She wanted to know where I was working, the name of my company and where it was located. She wanted information and details. And although she hadn’t been willing to talk to me through the rest of the nightmare, or even offer a smile or a wave, she was willing to ask me everything she wanted to know.

I was caught off guard. By that point, I panicked whenever anyone approached me, especially a neighbor! I hadn’t expected anyone to talk to me. And I certainly didn’t expect anyone to press me for answers about my personal plans and business. But press she did. When I tried to politely respond in a vague manner, so as not to appear rude, she didn’t quit. She asked for direct details.

I felt like a deer caught in headlights. I hate that feeling, yet it feels like that was my position a lot during 2009! (I guess you could say 2009 was my hunting season. lol.)

I knew why she wanted the information. The victims were circulating a daily email, I’d heard about it from the government and some victims that had received it and didn’t want to be included on it. It basically was a communication of ANY bit of information, even private information about my life or marriage–including things I’d told friends in confidence–ANYTHING they could discover from anyone. And then they published it to, what seemed like to me, the world. (I guess you feel that way when things shared in confidence are not kept that way.)

But then again, what was a little more humiliation in what had become the ultimate humiliation–discovering your spouse had been running a ponzi scheme, had stolen millions of dollars from friends and neighbors and family and strangers, that your spouse was going to prison, that your spouse had told hundreds of lies everyday to you and everyone else, that your children would have a relative in prison…and that all the while, you NEVER HAD A CLUE?

If I hadn’t been so terrified of what would happen should all of that information about my move get out, I could have laughed about the insanity of a non-victim neighbor actually doing what she did. But there was some degree of risk to my situation. For example, the head investigators constantly checked with me to make sure I felt safe from my neighbors. They told me if there was ever a problem to call 911 immediately. They insisted it was necessary they come to my home and supervise my move to protect ME from my neighbors on moving day. Etc…

And if I hadn’t been raised to be polite and honest, the conversation would have gone differently, too. But instead of lying or saying something rude, which I was tempted to do, I didn’t dare do it. I tried to answer her questions, vaguely, and then when she pressed me and pressed me for more details, I honestly answered with the truth! I SO did not want to tell everyone what was going on with me and what my plans were. I didn’t feel it was their business and I wanted to safeguard that information for my actual, physical safety was well.

But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t ignore her. I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t even tell her to mind her own business!

She walked away after she had discovered what she wanted to know and, I assume, share with everyone. And I went inside my house and threw up, literally, wondering if I had put the last nail in the coffin of our fate by honestly answering questions that were not anyone’s business but mine.

I wondered if I had just sold out my chance to rebuild a life somewhere else at the price of my unwillingness to be rude. I wondered if I had just sealed the fate of the physical safety of my children by refusing to lie.

“WHY couldn’t I be rude? WHY couldn’t I lie even once?” I thought. I was sick at my inability to do what I thought was wrong, at even the possible expense of my children. What kind of mother does that? I wondered.

I was so sick at what I had done, although I felt I had done the right thing, and then I finally had to force myself to let it go because I couldn’t change anything about what had happened. I decided to trust that something good would come of my choice to continue to do what was right in spite of the possible negative consequence to me and my children. I hoped we would be safe until we moved, but you don’t get to pick the consequences of your choices, good or bad. I just hoped it would be a consequence I could live with! Literally.

“We tell lies when we are afraid…afraid of what we don’t know, afraid of what others will think, afraid of what will be found out about us. But every time we tell a lie, the thing that we fear grows stronger.” (Tad WIlliams) Although I hadn’t lied, I had no reason to be afraid anymore. The truth was out, come what may. And aside from people entering my home late that night when my daughter was home alone and they thought we were gone, no danger to my children and I resulted from my truthful revelations that I know of.

The rudeness I was tempted to respond with, or a lie to protect my children, might have eased some temporary discomfort but I believe this with all of my heart based on that day’s experience: “A lie will easily get you out of a scrape, and yet, strangely and beautifully, rapture posesses you when you have taken the scrape and left out the lie.” (Charles Edward Montague, “Disenchantment”)

That’s the challenge isn’t it? Of life. Of anything.

I have always believed that.

In 2009, I continued to live that–at my peril. Because my parents taught me, “Honesty is the best policy,” and that as Shakespeare wrote, “No legacy is so rich as honesty.” I had always tried to live that way. And given my current financial situation, that may be the only legacy my children will have to inherit from me! lol

I’ve never doubted the wisdom of that…except for that one time in 2009.

But looking back, I am honestly grateful I didn’t cave in to rudeness or fear and act on my temptation to “lie” that day to save my children and I from an unknown flood of hatred and potential danger. I think it was the right decision: “Slander cannot destroy an honest man–when the flood recedes the rock is there.” (Chinese Proverb)

Example is the best teacher. And I’m trying to do all I can to teach my children what they’ll need to know to navigate the very uncertain waters of life, unexpectedly.

Bookmark and Share