Living Happily Ever After
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Or Maybe?

Date: October 4, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

Or maybe the secret to life is…simply facing your fears.

My unexpected life was replete with ALL of my lifelong fears and many more I’d never even dreamed of, not even in my worst nightmare, all combined into one fantastically devastating, horrific experience that included, all at the same time, betrayal, crime, a double life, negative publicity, divorce, single motherhood, poverty, loss of home, loss of pretty much everything of worldly value, unemployment, financial devastation and a few other things I shall refrain from detailing.

What do you do when you’re handed your nightmare on a platter of poverty and publicity?

Accept it. You can’t escape it, so deal with it.

Conquer it. Keep at it until you overcome the mountains in your path. (Work at it every single day for as long as it takes to find happiness and joy, to live, again.)

I think THAT is the secret.

“He who is not every day conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

 

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.

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!

Who’s Afraid of The Big, Bad…

Date: December 1, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The ads all call me fearless, but that’s just publicity. Anyone who thinks I’m not scared out of my mind whenever I do one of my stunts is crazier than I am.” (Jackie Chan)

I was always afraid of the dark. Even as a little girl, I made the frightful journey to my parents’ bedroom in the wee hours, every night, for protection. I hadn’t overcome that fear by the time I became a mother, so when my former husband traveled for business (ok, now I know that wasn’t the truth, but that is what I thought was taking place back then!) each night I invited my children to sleep in my room under the guise of a “slumber party.” After they fell asleep, I’d shut and lock my master bedroom door and move a piece of furniture in front of it for protection before I crawled into my bed, to lie there with my heart pounding most of the night, unable to sleep.

Crazy behavior, but true. Just ask my friend and former neighbor, Geoff, who got a frantic call from me at 2 a.m. one night in 2001. I will love him forever for not only coming to my home in the middle of a freezing winter night to ensure every room and closet on every floor of my home was intruder free, but for humoring my fear by bringing a baseball bat with him as he searched, as well as for having the good grace to EVER speak to me again after that!

Then my unexpected life began. I was thrust into terrifying darkness that extended beyond the night.  I was scared out of my mind. I didn’t just fear the future or the nighttime (by then, sleep was impossible), I even began to fear the doorbell. Because that meant I’d have to open my front door.

I know fear isn’t always rational, and mine was no exception. I began to fear not just who would ring my doorbell—we had lived through more than our fair share of hostile and angry clients/victims who had appeared at our front door to vent their hostility and rage about what my former husband had done toward me and my children—but what would happen should I dare answer the door? Would someone yell at me, would someone serve me with papers for a frivilous, groundless lawsuit simply because I had unknowingly been married to a criminal or even worse, would someone “snap” emotionally because of their loss…and shoot me? Like I said, my fear was not rational.  However, I had been thrust into a life that had been inconceivable to me, so at that point, I felt anything, including anything scary, was possible. (Violence and threat of violence was also something government officials and attorneys had warned me about. In fact, they checked with me periodically to make sure I hadn’t been threatened and that I felt “safe.” And now this blog proves I wasn’t completely truthful. Oops! No one threatened me, but obviously, I didn’t feel safe! I was just too embarrassed to say it. I felt there had been enough drama.)

One day, the doorbell rang. As I approached, through the frosted glass I could see the blurry figure of a large man wearing a dark jacket and sunglasses. I could see some type of metal, electronic device, possibly a gun, in his hand. I suddenly got VERY afraid. I can’t describe the terror I felt. In seconds I waged an epic battle within myself: answer or not answer the door.

“And so it begins,” I thought. My fears had become my reality.

I realized I couldn’t not answer the door the rest of my life.  And I certainly couldn’t live in fear the rest of my life. So I decided to open the door and face whatever consequence that decision brought me. Even if it meant death.

I grasped the knob and slowly opened the door. I cautiously peered out, prepared to meet my fate, and faced the man. He was tall, muscular, dressed in a nondescript navy jacket (just like I imagine assassins wear), and who knew what manner of evil design was hidden behind his reflective eye wear? I can’t imagine the expression on my face, or what the man saw when I opened the door, because he immediately jumped back, put his hands in the air, and said, “Ma’am! It’s ok! I’m not here to hurt you! I’m just the Schwann man! I’m here to sell you some ice cream!”

I’m sure he had no idea whose bell he had rung, what infamous front porch he was standing on. Although my home had been splashed across televisions nationwide, I guess he was too busy selling Schwann products to have seen it.

Sometimes you just have to shake your head and laugh. At yourself. And the crazy things you fear. Like the ice cream man. Really.

In the unexpected life we face scary things every day. Yet confronting the hard stuff, for me, was the secret to rising above it. In fact, it’s the only way to overcome it: open the door (it can be quite a stunt), look your fear in the eye and if you’re lucky, like me, you’ll find ice cream!

“He who is not everyday conquering some fear has not learned the secret of life.” (Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Just ask the Schwann man.

My News Story

Date: October 29, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

It’s official.

The “exciting” event I foreshadowed in a blog last month actually became an “exciting” event for my middle son yesterday–he got to see himself on t.v.!

Cheryl Preheim, a news personality on NBC affiliate Channel 9 in Denver, CO, did a story on our family’s experience which aired, for the first time, last night.

Click here to see the news story.

But to keep it all in perspective, I’m reminded of some wisdom Abe Lincoln shared, “What kills a skunk is the publicity it gives itself.”

Just don’t call me Flower.

Paranoid…But Trying To Laugh!

Date: March 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

His attorney came to our home within a few days of March 18.  The lawyer warned of media coverage, publicity, paparazzi stalking the house, public questions about ME, etc… With every sentence he spoke, I worried the nightmare was about to worsen.

Shortly after the attorney departed,  one of my spouse’s clients called our home.  Although this particular client had shown up on my doorstep the evening of March 18 moments after my children had been informed about the situation, and had yelled at my children and I when we answered the door and all stood there huddled together crying, I was still stunned when this same client called my home that day and directed his venom toward ME.  He yelled at me and said my spouse was the most despicable man he had ever known.  When he was done ranting, I thought, “It is totally his right to feel that way and believe it, but I don’t know how it’s going to help his situation by subjecting me to it!”

And I laughed as I realized I had politely listened to all of it, didn’t hang up the phone during any part of his tirade, endured his yelling fury, even had the presence of mind to thank him for calling before HE hung up on ME!  My phone etiquette was alive and well.  (My parents would be so proud!)

That afternoon I played outside with my three-year-old and saw a dark Suburban cruise slowly by our house, turn around, and cruise slowly back by.  I guess I’d seen too many crime-themed t.v. shows and movies because I wondered if it was a criminal casing a new opportunity, a reporter, a former client of His, or someone out to do my children and I harm.  I couldn’t believe I didn’t feel safe at home anymore.

Again, I laughed at myself and my crazy fears that seemed to have come out of nowhere.

Later that day I went to my spouse’s office behind our home to get a fax.  When I turned around, my three-year-old was gone.  I hunted everywhere in the yard and on our property but he was nowhere to be found.  I told my spouse of the situation and He joined me in the hunt.  We looked for 30 minutes–the longest 30 minutes of my life.  The entire time I worried an angry client had kidnapped my three-year-old.  I wondered if a client’s loss would be so great that they’d mentally snap and kill my child.  I thought, “I’ve lost EVERYTHING AND my three-year-old!” I fought back waves of panic like I’d never felt before, and thankfully, we found our little son next door.

That time, I was so afraid I couldn’t laugh.

By that evening, when the doorbell rang again, I was in full-blown paranoia.  Through the glass front door I could see a man in a baseball cap and jacket who appeared to be holding some type of recording device.  I debated about answering the door, but finally decided to get it over with.  I braced myself to face a reporter.  I hoped I was in control enough to rely on my professional media training (but seriously doubted I was–it’s different when YOU are in the negative spotlight for something you had no knowledge of and no participation in.) I  thought to myself, “So it has begun,” and grasped the doorknob.

I was SO afraid, but I opened the door anyway, and discovered it was only the Schwann man selling ice cream and other frozen products! My terror must have been written all over my face because before I could speak, the man put both hands in the air and said, “It’s ok, ma’am! I’m just the Schwann man! I’m not going to hurt you!” And he slowly backed away and left without even attempting to sell me anything!

I imagined the story that Schwann man was going to go home and tell that night.  I closed the door…and laughed.

I had become paranoid in less than one day. The insanity of it all made me laugh. And I’m happy to report that I’m still laughing.

Remember:  it’s a choice.