Living Happily Ever After
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No One Will Check On Me Anymore

Date: April 23, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I had a great circle of friends in Colorado who took me out to dinner every month during 2009, during my nightmare. They were an absolute blessing to me. Here are just a few of the reasons why.

First, we talked and laughed. I can’t tell you how much it helped me to laugh, hard, at some of the crazy and unexpected things I was going through. It was exactly what I needed. (And sometimes we just shook our heads at the events. Sometimes that is all you can do in an unexpected life.)

Second, they asked me thoughtful questions and I answered them, and in doing so, got free therapy and their wise perspectives about my situation and things I was immediately facing. They are sharp, smart, educated and “together” women and it was so helpful to get their counsel as to what they thought I should do.

Third, eating out (when I was mostly living on food storage) was a treat! Our meals were delicious–The Cheesecake Factory, Counter, Costa Vida, etc… Those nights were standout “bright spots” in my life when almost everything else I was facing at that present time, and in the future, seemed overwhelmingly dismal.

We stayed out late every time we went out, and one night, my spouse called at 10:45 p.m. to make sure I was ok.  When I arrived home, and as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom in my darkened house that night, I was struck by the realization that that was probably the last time in my life someone would worry that I wasn’t home and call to check on me and make sure that I was ok. My parents were dead. I was soon to be divorced; single and alone in the world. I was moving to a new state where no one knew me. No one would be worrying about me or calling to check on me any more.

It was such a powerful epiphany that it became almost a physical sensation to me. I dropped down on the stair where I stepped and cried. In the dark. All alone. I certainly was NOT ending up with the life I had worked toward and dreamed of! Everything was SO unexpected. There was a lot of grief in that moment. (I think that is what made that time so difficult–the absolute grief at what had transpired and the consequences that resulted. There were such extreme highs and lows–out with friends having a GREAT time, seconds later indulging in my grief in the dark on the stairs.)

But fortunately for me, I was so wrong.

It’s 13 months post the day my nightmare began, and little by little, very slowly, and thanks to so many good people in the world who have shown me empathy, compassion, and kindness I am waking from the scary dream I unexpectedly was forced to live. And you know what? I am not alone. I have friends, old and new, who check on me every week or every month or as they feel inspired to. I can’t express what that means to me. I hope I am always that kind of friend to them and others who cross my path.

This was reinforced to me as recently as earlier this week. Lately, life has been hectic and I’ve been more sporadic than I would like to have been about writing in this blog. Someone I haven’t even met (yet) emailed me through this blog to check on me! They said it had been a few days since I had written and they wanted to make sure I was ok! If they only knew my thoughts one year ago they would better understand how much their gesture touched me, made my day (and got me to make time to blog/write again!) I couldn’t help but think back to that night I felt such darkness about the fact no one would ever check on me or worry about me or wonder if I was ok again. I was so wrong!

Thanks to the good people in this world, the kindness of friends I haven’t met yet, the wonderful world of blogs and the many amazing people who don’t suppress their generous thoughts, I am not alone. People do check on me. How grateful I am for the friends I’ve connected with via this blog and for the new friends I have made that I haven’t even met yet. As it’s my first foray into blogging, I absolutely had no idea what to expect. But my experience has been miraculous.

I want each of you reading to know how much your friendship and support means to me. I am so gratified that anyone finds my story, or my perspective of life, worth reading. I am grateful for your comments and to hear what you think. I appreciate your support.

What a blessing we can be in the lives of those we reach out to.

You all have been that, to me, in mine. I thank you for that.

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.” (Charlotte, “Charlotte’s Web”)

Thanks for reading, for being my friends…and for lifting up my life.

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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.)

It’s All About Attitude

Date: April 21, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

One year ago I found a quote that, in my opinion, should be the theme of life for everyone.

“If you can’t jump over life’s hurdles, LIMBO under them!”

That says it all. (And I have to add that dancing, as well as laughing, is a much more fun alternative to crying!)

L-I-M-B-O.

Life.

Miracle Mail

Date: April 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I am terrible at remembering to collect my mail each day.  I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because my former spouse always got our mail, so it has been over 20 years since I’ve had to collect my mail.

But one year ago that changed. Due to my spouse’s crimes, the revelation that He had been running a ponzi scheme for 15 years, His prison sentence looming, our pending divorce, and other traumas…I took over everything–including the mail collection.

Each day, it seemed, hate mail arrived. I was shocked that we received it, and even more surprised at where it came from: total strangers, all across the U.S. It became so frequent for awhile there that one day I realized it had been one week since we had received a piece of hate mail!

An occasion to remember.

However, not all of the mail was hateful.  For the first two-three months of the nightmare, other anonymous mail arrived, the complete opposite of hate mail. I would open an envelope to find a gift card to a grocery store, Target, Costco or WalMart.  Other weeks, I would open an envelope to find some cash.  Other times it would be words of encouragement or an uplifting thought I really needed at that moment and that helped me continue on when the day had been particularly disastrous.

I called it Miracle Mail. It was such a blessing to me and to my children. It helped us survive, not just emotionally, but physically.

Thank heaven for those who “never suppress a generous thought.”

We were getting by on very little money as all of our accounts had been frozen. The cash I had I withdrawn on March 18, I had put in my wallet and then kept my wallet with me at all times. I didn’t let my spouse know where the money was because I was afraid he’d steal it! Trust was non-existent. (I guess it shows you may choose to allow a stranger to remain in your home for your children’s sake and because you feel it is the kind thing to do, but that doesn’t mean you trust Him.  At all.)

Any time my children needed lunch money, etc…I pulled a small amount of cash out of my wallet and used it.  I didn’t dare look at it, because to see the minimal amount, and to see that minimal amount dwindling, would have added even more stress to a life that was already bursting at the seams with it!

I remember getting down to the last $20, and then finally to the last $1, and wondering what we were going to do…and then an anonymous piece of mail, miracle mail, containing a gift card or cash would arrive at the very moment I needed it. There are some amazing, generous, kind, and charitable people. They literally saved us.  And of course, most of it was anonymous so I had no idea who to thank.

We also lived off food we had stored for emergencies, so although we weren’t eating our favorite things, we were able to purchase less at the store and still had food to eat. And, as with everything else, we got by with a little help from our friends.

A friend stopped by one day and unloaded a car load of food items from Costco–”fun” food, as she called it, that my children hadn’t seen in awhile like fruit snacks, crackers, Mickey Mouse-shaped chicken nuggets, cookies, etc…THAT was a highlight of the nightmare experience for my children! It was like Christmas in our kitchen!  They were thrilled to enjoy, once again, some treats they remembered from their former life.

Other friends called when they were heading to the store and asked if I needed anything.  If I didn’t need anything, they usually dropped food off anyway. Other times, they picked up what I needed and more.

And many women from my church delivered meals to us as well.  I think we had one entire month of dinners brought to our home by good women who were concerned about us and wanted us to not only have food to eat, but to feel loved. They delivered dinner every night until I finally asked them to stop–I couldn’t move my food storage and felt like we needed to use it up and provide for ourselves as much as we were able to.

Another friend brought us huge, delicious Sunday dinners EVERY SINGLE SUNDAY until we moved out of state.

True, we may have been hated by some, but we were also SO LOVED by so many.  That compassion, and Miracle Mail, got us through.

Never Suppress A Generous Thought

Date: April 20, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

To live, and how to live, every day, is a choice.

Last spring, in the middle of my nightmare, I was driving up my driveway and saw several neighbors gathered at the top. It seemed like everyone had been so mean and nasty to me, that just the sight of them gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach.  I had a moment of panic.

I knew I had a choice to make.

I felt my choice was to emulate their choices OR to continue to be myself.

I decided I didn’t ever want to make anyone feel the way some of my neighbors had made me feel, so I chose to be myself.  I drove up the driveway and waved as I passed them.  I figured they could look at me with hate in their eyes, but I was going to do the right thing anyway.

One neighbor in the group watched me wave, but continued to stare. However, after a few seconds of me waving, she lifted her arm and waved back! My initial thought was, “Oh! Maybe she didn’t know it was me!” But we had waved at each other for years.  She couldn’t have been mistaken.  She chose in that moment to be kind, and I was so thankful. One year later, I still remember that.

As I continued to drive away I realized that had I responded in an “eye for an eye” fashion (as many tangled in the web of my spouse’s crimes had) I would have glared instead of waved, and I would have missed out on that tiny slice of friendliness that was in such short supply at that time and during the whole nightmare experience.

I read, once, that we should “never suppress a generous thought.”  I have always believed that and have tried, in my own small ways, to live life like that.  That day showed me, again, what a blessing even the simple act of a smile or wave, generously shared even in trying circumstances, can be.

Never suppress a generous thought. Or a smile. Or a wave.

Laugh Until You Cry

Date: April 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Last April I listened to encouragement from my church leaders regarding tribulation.  While it was comforting, some bizarre part of me found humor in it.

Here’s why.  They mentioned trials of economic challenge OR employment challenge OR family challenge OR marital challenge OR disappointment OR a broken heart.  But no one ever mentioned all of them together, all at the same time! And THAT was my life at that moment.

I had to laugh.

And when I added in the hardship of hatred, persecution from neighbors, betrayal of friends, being “orphaned” without parents during the most unexpected nightmare of my life, crimes committed by my spouse, a prison sentence my spouse was facing, divorce, no alimony or child support (probably, ever), returning to the work force full time, having to send a child to daycare (back then, I thought that was the end of the world–lol), and everything else I was dealing with at that time…I laughed again. Harder.

I laughed as I wondered how I, of all people, got so blessed? Why had I had been given so many unimagineable opportunities for growth–and ALL at the same time?  ”Lucky” me!

It made me laugh so hard I cried.

And as the tears rolled, for some reason I realized, again, that I could do it.  I knew I was going to survive, although a tiny part of me felt it would be much easier not to. Somehow, some way, I was going to make it through my nightmare.  For me. For my children. I had to.

I was going to make it because I believe in a higher power and have always believed everyone has a purpose on the earth; things to accomplish, other things to learn.  Last April I wondered if maybe THIS experience was one of the things I was here for.  ”…And who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14) I couldn’t allow myself to fail.

Like Esther in the Old Testament, who had to stand for something in very challenging and difficult times to save herself and her people, I had a work to do (on a much smaller scale.  I only had to save myself and my four children.) I firmly believe we each have a work to do and we can’t quit or give up.  ”After we have done all we could do…and withstood the evil that men have brought upon us, and we have been overwhelmed by their wrongs, it is still our duty to stand.  We cannot give up; we must not lie down.  Great causes are not won in a single generation.” (Joseph F. Smith)

I had to keep trying to laugh in spite of feeling like crying. I had to keep getting out of bed each day and facing what was ahead no matter how much I dreaded it. I had to keep forgiving. I had to keep rising above the challenges. I had to keep doing everything I could to pull myself out of the black hole I had been thrown into. And I had to help my children do the same.

It was my duty.  I couldn’t let myself down, and more importantly, I couldn’t let my children down and allow this experience to ruin their lives before they’d ever really had a chance to live.

So I laughed until I cried.  Sometimes I just cried.  And I kept trying to learn and allow myself to grow through the experience that had become my unexpected life.

A New Kind of Multi-tasking

Date: April 15, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I guess you’d call it a new kind of multi-tasking.

The seizure and media frenzy continued into a third day, and while that was going on, I drove myself to the Arapahoe County Courthouse with my legal documents and my toddler in tow, paid $220, and filed for divorce.  (I filed for divorce as soon as the documents were ready. It had taken a few weeks to get everything together.)

I filed for divorce the same day my oldest son went on his first date: April 9, 2009. How sad is that?

I came home from that surreal experience I had never anticipated having and played with my little one outside although a photographer cased the house. My three-year-old had been stuck with me at the courthouse far too long and just wanted to enjoy the sunshine! (Amazing, that the sun still shines on our darkest days, isn’t it?) Our name and address had been published so many times that cars of all types, even mini vans, cruised slowly past our home all day and all night and while I played outside with my toddler. However, by the time it got dark there was no sign of any more media–just a slow stream of curious people continuing to cruise past our home.

The government had finished seizing our possessions.

I was depressed about my financial situation and a little stunned at all that had been taken. The U.S. Marshalls had seized A LOT MORE than we had expected. Many “little” things that weren’t specifically named on the warrant were also removed from our possession, for example, they even took brooms, snow shovels and our sleeping bags! To cheer me, my spouse gave me a “tour of consolation,” as He called it, to “reassure” me. We walked around and looked for things that had been left that I could use to rebuild a new life.

The next morning I checked the media reports just to know what I would be up against that day. Amazingly, we weren’t in the newspapers any more.  A baby had been murdered. The media had moved on to the next tragedy.

“Fame is a fickle food–Upon a shifting plate.” (Emily Dickinson)

Thank goodness for that.

Winston’s Words

Date: April 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Last April I read that Winston Churchill said, “…to every man [and woman] there comes… that special moment when [they are] figuratively tapped on the shoulder and offered the chance to do a special thing unique to [them]… what a tragedy if that moment finds [them] unprepared or unqualified for [that]which [could have been their] finest hour.”

It hit me that I had an opportunity to let 2009 be my finest hour.  It was a critical time.  I believed my life and the lives of my children, then and forever, hung in the balance.  As daunting as it seemed, I had to make 2009 my finest hour for the sake of my children.

I didn’t know what the future held, but I had faith enough to KNOW there would be one.

I believe these moments, to one degree or another, come to each of us. And it is what we do with them that makes all of the difference. Finest hour or failure.

This was reinforced to me during my service as president of the women’s organization of my church congregation.  One day a new woman joined our group.  I made an appointment to visit her in her home to officially welcome her to the area.  When I arrived at her apartment, I discovered she lived there with four other adults and sublet a bedroom in the apartment.  As we sat on her bed and talked, I looked out the window and noticed snowflakes beginning to fall.  At the same time, I glanced into her open closet door and saw only one pair of flip flops, one pair of athletic shoes, one skirt, and one shirt hanging on the rod.  No other clothing.  Not even a coat.  (Remember, I lived in Colorado.)

When I asked about her situation she told me she didn’t have a coat, didn’t have shoes other than the two pair I saw, didn’t have food to eat and she didn’t have a job. I arranged to take her shopping for a coat and through our pastor provided her with some groceries.

As I drove her to the store, she told me more of her life story:  her dad died when she was a teenager, her family lost their finances, she was raised by a single mother, she had had health challenges…and she attributed all of her experiences as the cause of her current situation.

In that moment I was struck with a powerful realization.  She and I had experienced many of the same life challenges. Yet while her experiences had changed her life in very difficult ways, I had been taught to rise above the challenges, to turn my stumbling blocks into stepping stones, to continue to live and achieve, and to attempt to utilize my adversity to make myself better than I would otherwise have been. (More wise words from my mom.)

What a blessing to have been taught, and to instinctively realize, we each are blessed with moments that can be our finest hour.  It is all in what we do with them.

I believe that now more than ever.  I hope my actions and attitude as I carry on, continue to live, and rebuild my life one day reveal my finest hour.

And it caused me to ponder:  What if everyone, in moments of heartache and seemingly insurmountable challenges, chose the path that would lead to their finest hour?

Imagine the legacy we would leave our children and those who come after us if we did.

What Do You Do With Your Wedding Picture?

Date: April 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The roller coaster ride continued.

This time, it wasn’t finances.  It was pictures.  Wedding pictures.

My spouse and I were working in His shop, cleaning things out, preparatory to our divorce, my move, and Him heading to prison for running a ponzi scheme for 15 years (unbeknownst to me and everyone else) when He handed me a gigantic wedding picture for me to keep.

I said, “Oh, no.  It’s ok.  I don’t need that.”

He took it as such a slap in the face and looked so hurt!  I tried to explain we were divorcing, I was sure I had a smaller one somewhere, but he was clearly hurt.

So I took the picture, told Him I wanted it after all.  But the truth?

What am I going to do with a 16×20 picture of a marriage and husband that aren’t mine anymore?  Hang it somewhere? Keep it–to remind me of the 15 years of theft, lies and betrayals?

What DO you do with your wedding picture?

Any suggestions?

Life Is Such a Roller Coaster Ride

Date: April 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

One of the people left in the world who has known me the longest emailed me earlier this year with encouraging words and fabulous advice that I’ve tried to follow:  Life is such a roller coaster ride…we just have to hang on, scream real loud, and enjoy the ride!

In my experience, truer words have never been spoken.

And no ride made me hang on (or want to scream) more than the ride I was on April 2009 last year. My spouse had revealed His crimes, He was headed to prison, and I found out I would be left alone to provide for and raise our four children. My roller coaster car was rolling away from the gate and the ride of my life had begun!

Things seemed very black a lot of the time, yet the crazy optimist in me refused to give in to it and I tried to find the light in every thing that I could.  It was SUCH a roller coaster I can’t describe it. I was worried about providing for my family, finding a place for us to live, beginning a new life in every sense of the word, and I did it all amid negative publicity about my spouse for His ponzi scheme crime and the public collapse of my life and marriage. Yes, there were ups and downs!

One huge roller coaster was the financial aspect of things.  It was pretty bleak.

The day my spouse told me of His crimes, He had already turned himself in to the authorities and all of our assets had been frozen. I had no money.  I had four children to feed and shelter and I didn’t know how I was going to do it. That was a low.

The government authorities catalogued items for seizure and told me they were not interested in my jewelry.  I rejoiced!  That was a high!  I admit, I love things that sparkle; I always have.  And although I’d never asked for jewelry, my spouse had given me a few pieces as gifts over the years. I loaned them to friends as often as I wore them, and although I didn’t plan on ever wearing my jewelry again, I realized I could sell my jewelry for cash and use it to help support my children and rebuild my life.

Then my roller coaster car took one of those sharp, unexpected turns–the kind you hit just when you think your ride is about over–and started racing downhill again!  The government investigators returned to my home.  They apologized.  They said they knew they told me they weren’t interested in my jewelry and had told me I could remove it from my home but…did I have any diamond necklaces or tennis bracelets?

That day was a low.  That day I discovered my friends, who had worn my jewelry and knew everything I had, were providing lists of my possessions to the government, hounding them to take it,  and the government had to comply.  That day I wrote, “Sometimes I don’t know how I’ll go on.  I work so hard to think, ‘I’ll start over and make a new life,’ I make a plan to do that, and then every little thing the government tries to leave for me, my ‘friends’ make sure it gets taken away.  It’s not for me that I want anything.  It’s for my kids. I just need to provide for them. I want, I want, I want! There is so much I want. So many injustices I’m being dealt and there will never be any restitution to me for any of it.  I am the one victim who is not on the victim’s restitution list.  I am THE ONE who will just have to let go of it, forgive, and go on.”

The government asked me to give them a list of the jewelry I owned, which I did.  And they called, amazed, that I had admitted to MORE than they knew I had!  That was a high for me.  I continued to value my character and integrity above all.

Then I met with bankruptcy attorneys.  They were appalled at how, in their words, “completely bereft” a position I had been placed.  I don’t think they’d seen anyone left in my position, to start over with four kids to the extent that I had been.  That was a low.

That day I returned home feeling very alone, and when I arrived home my daughter said, “Mom.  It’s April Fool’s Day!” The irony completely got me, and must have shown in my face, because my daughter said, “What?  What’s wrong, Mom?”  I just smiled and said, “Nothing.  I’m fine.  I’m great.”  It was becoming my answer to everything.

There were many other financial highs and lows that followed and I eventually learned not to get too worked up in either direction, to wait and see how everything played out to avoid getting devastated time and again.  Sometimes roller coasters can be a bit much, too many highs and lows.

So I rode the roller coaster.  And I hung on.  I don’t recall that I ever screamed but I cried. And although I wasn’t overly successful at enjoying the ride, I had two goals for myself as I rode:  To not hate anyone.  And to be cheerful, happy, and optimistic.  I didn’t want to be anyone’s “downer.”