Living Happily Ever After
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Filing Papers

Date: May 12, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

The packing of possessions continued, I started my new job working from home, I was moving from Colorado to Utah in less than two weeks and there was one other task to complete prior to the move: file the final paperwork for my divorce.

He went with me to file the last of our paperwork. It went very smoothly. We got along, talked, I made a few jokes (my typical style of making fun of the hard stuff so I don’t think about what is REALLY going on) and I tried not to think about what was taking place. As he drove, He commented that he didn’t think many divorcing couples were as cordial to one another as they filed their final paperwork as we were.

I couldn’t respond to that. I just kept reading and re-reading the words on the papers and no matter how many times I skimmed them, they didn’t seem real. Could they really be about divorce? I had never imagined myself divorcing. In fact, my divorce had made a liar out of me.

I couldn’t help but reflect on the many times over the years, as parents of one of my children’s friends would divorce my child would ask, “You and dad will never get divorced, will you?” (I remember asking my parents that same question when I was a girl and parents of one of my friends divorced.) And my answer had always been the same: “Absolutely not. I can’t think of a single thing a member of my family could do that would ever result in divorce.” Unfortunately, I never imagined the double life my spouse had been leading. I never imagined that anyone I knew personally (much less lived with) was capable of committing a single crime (much less all that He had done.) I never imagined that promise to my children would turn out to be a lie.

As we drove to file the paperwork, He also made some predictions about the next five years–five years was the amount of time He anticipated being in prison. His first prediction? That I would re-marry.

I didn’t expect to hear that. I was sure, for a myriad of reasons, that would never be in my future. And I certainly didn’t want to discuss it with Him! At that time, I couldn’t comprehend it. I was sure it wouldn’t be true. After being married nearly 20 years, I couldn’t comprehend dating much less getting married! He also predicted the demise of an extended family member who struggled with mental health issues and addictions. Funny, but the remarriage He predicted for me shocked me WAY more than hearing what he thought the future held for extended family.

He then told me I had His permission to fall in love again with another man, as long as the man would be good to our kids. I didn’t respond for SO MANY reasons.

I didn’t need His permission. His permission was not His to give. We were divorcing–not to mention the fact that after all He had done, I didn’t feel He had a right to dictate anything for me or my children, then or in the future.

I thought it was strange to have him mention something like that while we were legally still married.

I knew there was no way I’d even have time to date, much less re-marry, when I was the sole parent to four children who had been traumatized. I felt all of my time, energy and effort needed to be directed toward helping them heal. I truly felt like I’d had my chance at life, and now my life was to help my children make the most of their chance.

As I mentioned before, I firmly believed no one in their right mind would ever want an “old bag!”

And who would ever want to take on the financial, emotional, and every other type of responsibility for four children?

Those are just some of the reasons I didn’t respond to his predictions. I was getting very good at “not hearing” and thus, not responding, to difficult things. It was the only way I survived those terrible months of 2009 and continued to live and hold my head up in the face of persecution and publicity and everything else that went along with my position as the wife of a criminal.

I had the terrible feeling I was destined to be alone on so many levels for so many reasons. I only prayed I’d be up to the challenge of loneliness. Because the loneliness was extreme. From the moment I found out about the ponzi scheme and pending incarceration of my spouse, although we were legally married and even living in the same house, I felt acute loneliness. I was alone in the world.

For the first time, I understood the concept of someone being surrounded by people yet totally alone. That was exactly how I felt. To anyone else who has ever felt that, I am truly sorry. I wouldn’t wish that degree of loneliness on anyone.

“Loneliness is the ultimate poverty.” (Abigail Van Buren)

A VERY unexpected life.

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The Irony of Crime

Date: May 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

So life in Colorado continued winding down. I was packing and preparing to move my four children to Utah and begin a new life. He was wrapping up the details of His life and preparing to go to prison.

As part of that, He went to our cabin to take care of some business. As soon as He arrived at the cabin, He called me, absolutely furious and disgusted by what He had found. We had been robbed!

He ranted about the situation, listing every thing that was missing. He was so upset to have been stolen from!

All I could do was laugh.

He stopped, mid-rant, and asked why I was laughing. I said, “I’m sorry, but I think it is kind of funny! So ironic! The man who stole has been stolen from and he is angry that someone stole from HIM!”

Funny how that happened, huh?

He tried to justify His indignation, but I just didn’t feel it. Now that I knew the truth about the life He had led, I realized the cabin had been purchased and furnished with money HE stole! It wasn’t really ours and never had been.

The irony of the situation entertained me for a moment in the nightmare that had become my unexpected life. And it validated something I had heard His mother say time and again in the nearly two decades we’d been married: “What goes around comes around.”

It surely did.

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Eggs, Anyone?

Date: May 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Things continued to escalate as we prepared to move from Colorado to Utah. The stress and strain was absolutely palpable. Even my children felt it.

My youngest was emotional and clingy. My middle son was emotionally devastated yet frustrated–he was the one that wanted to use his finger to communicate that hard day I already blogged about. My two oldest held up well, but finally got closer to snapping. They told me they were going to egg the neighbors on their way out of town!

I laughed–thinking it was one of our usual “coping jokes” that we made up to help ourselves deal with the trauma of our new life. We laughed, to try to keep the tears at bay, I think. But then I realized they might be serious.

I absolutely forbade that behavior from them and we had quite an animated discussion about it as they had very different opinions than I did on that one!

I told them when we stoop to the level of hatred, frustration, and anger displayed by those around us, and when we choose to lash out the way those around us had, then we become like them. And I didn’t want any member of my family to behave like those around us had! I told them we knew better. And regardless of what anyone done to us, regardless of their opinion of us, we would continue to hold our heads high and live good lives. Even if no one around us believed that is what we were doing.

And I think for the first time in my life I uttered the dreaded phrase, “Over my dead body will any one of my children…”

You become a cliche at the most unexpected times in life, don’t you?

Sometimes it felt like everywhere I turned, I was faced with another nightmare not of my choosing. It seemed like in so many ways, my children and I didn’t have any choices. But we had a choice in how we responded in our challenge. And as for me and my house, I was determined we’d keep our eggs in the kitchen and eat them for breakfast! It was the right thing to do. And food was in short supply anyway!:)

To my children’s credit, they did not give in to the impulse to vent their feelings as they left what had once been their very good life in Colorado to begin a new one in Utah. I was grateful…and proud.

Eggs, anyone?

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You Know It’s Tough When…

Date: May 8, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

You know you’ve been left with a tough lot to hoe when your good friend calls to tell you her husband has another tumor, has already had a stem cell transplant and yet, she’d still rather have her life than yours!

We laughed SO HARD over that one.

No one wanted what I had, including me! My worst fears were my reality.

My friend and I cried together, too. Few cried with me like she did. She had endured many years of trials and challenges she’d never expected; she’d had to adjust her dreams accordingly, and she felt my pain like few could. Interesting, isn’t it? That our unexpected lives have a way of helping us develop empathy and compassion in a way nothing else is able to. Although I would never wish hardship on anyone, what a blessing my friend was to me because of all she had endured and risen above.

And the best part about being with her and knowing her family challenges was that her situation made me simply grateful to be alive. To have a life to live, unexpected as it was. Because not everyone has that option.

“I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, but through it all I still know quite certainly that just to be alive is a grand thing.” (Agatha Christie)

Grand indeed.

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Father’s Day

Date: May 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I know Mother’s Day is coming. But what I’m thinking about today is Father’s Day 2009. What a TOUGH day.

Although our family had always gone to church together that day, 2009 was a different. My spouse didn’t go to church with us anymore, and that day, my two youngest did not want to go to church without their dad. I couldn’t blame them. On top of everything else they were dealing with, how hard to be so young and see everyone else sitting by their dads when my sons knew their dad was headed to prison.

How hard would it be to get up and sing Father’s Day songs…to other dads? I felt for them. I really did. When they both complained they had sore throats (in June), I didn’t even question it. I let them stay home.

But instead of celebrating the father of my children that day, I really struggled inside toward Him. Although I didn’t express it out loud, this is how I felt and what I wrote that day, despite my goal not to hate anyone: “I could hate him for the lies He told and lived for almost two decades, for what He did to his victims, and for all He has done to what was once our family. But the hardest thing I face is not about any of that. How am I ever NOT going to hate him for what He has done to our children? This day is just a reminder to me of all that. I feel He deserves absolutely nothing.”

But what I felt and what I did were two different things.

I needed to do what was best for my children. I had to show them a good example. I had to model what I thought was the right behavior. I had to practice what I had always preached.

I had to choose NOT to hate.

I wished Him a “Happy Father’s Day” and I spent a little of the practically non-existent cash on small gifts from my two youngest children. I suggested my daughter bake a dessert her dad loved as her “gift” to Him. It was the right thing to do: for Him (his last Father’s Day for many years, probably) and surely for my children.

Prior to the day, one of my older children came to me and said, “You aren’t going to do anything for dad for Father’s Day, are you?”

I replied that I would help any of them celebrate their dad in whatever way we could think of and manage. When asked what they planned they replied, “Nothing. He deserves nothing after all he has done. And he did NOTHING for you on Mother’s Day.” (But that’s another blog post.)

I acknowledged that child’s feelings and told that child whatever they felt and whatever they decided, was the right choice and I would support them in that. But I told them for the two younger kids, helping them honor their dad was the right thing…for them.

I don’t know what the experts say about that. I certainly am not one. But my instinct was that in situations like ours, or divorce situations or any other situations the parents cause and their children have no choice in what takes place, the children HAVE to be free to feel what they feel, and to be validated in what they feel–whatever that is–and that whatever they feel is right and correct and the right choice for them.

I told my children that again and again during 2009. And I wasn’t just saying that, I believe that. But I also told them at some point, they’d have to let themselves feel everything, work through it all, heal and forgive. I told them that is the only thing I insist on: they have to forgive.

The horror in one child’s eyes, when they realized I expected them to forgive their dad at some point, was evident! But I stood by it and still do. I told them forgiveness doesn’t mean you have to be their best friend, or that you even have to spend time with them, but you have to let go of the hate. You have to overcome their wrongs against you, forgive them, and rise above the natural inclination to hold a grudge or hate.

I truly believe in forgiveness. For everyone. For everything. Because if you don’t forgive, that hatred can destroy you. And then THAT is the true tragedy. Not the terrible destruction caused by the perpetrator, not everything the perpetrator destroys, but your destruction. The destruction you allow to happen because of the choices made by someone else.

Hatred is like acid. It can do more damage to the vessel in which it is stored than to the object on which it is poured.

And in my humble opinion, that is no way to live!

THAT is why I believe in forgiveness. And why I’m doing all I can to help my children feel it toward their father and any others who wrong them. Because I want so much for them. I want them to experience all life has to offer. Life is good. Life can be beautiful–even in spite of, or maybe even because of, the hard stuff.

My children have important things to accomplish, greatness to embrace, and oak trees to become. “Today’s mighty oak tree is merely yesterday’s little nut that managed to hold its ground.”

That’s what we’re about at our house. That’s really our bottom line. We’re just a bunch of nuts trying to hold our ground through a very unexpected life!

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A New Family Picture

Date: May 6, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Life is a rough biography. Memories smooth out the edges.” (Terri Guillemets)

Prior to my 2009 nightmare, I won a free 16×20 portrait at a charity auction. I had forgotten all about it, but as I packed to move, I found the coupon. I thought it was a timely discovery: I was moving and wouldn’t be able to use it after I moved away–at that time, I couldn’t imagine when, or if, I’d ever come back, if even for a visit. I was divorcing and didn’t have one picture of just my children and I to hang in our home. So I booked an appointment for a new family portrait.

We all got ready, wearing coordinating clothes, and drove to the portrait studio. It actually wasn’t any different, up to that point, than getting any other family picture taken had been. Except that even the youngest child was happy and in a good mood. (I had always been the one to schedule the appointment, choose the clothes, get myself and all of the children ready, and then He would show up, change, and go with us to the appointment–although He was usually stressed out about something and his stress would rub off on some of the children as we drove so that by the time we got there, things were a bit of a challenge. Then He’d do something to help everyone feel happy again, usually the promise of a treat afterward took care of it, so our picture experiences ended up being good memories. But His behavior was the reason we needed a treat afterward!)

I was excited that the picture was not going to cost us a thing at a time we had no money. I was excited to have a picture appropriate to hang in our home as we began a new life. Everything was going off without a hitch…until we were walking in the door of the studio.

My middle son, who was nine years old at the time, stopped, turned to me, and asked, “Wait. Where is Dad? Why are we getting a picture taken without Him?”

How do you answer that, at a time like that?

My poor boy. Every little thing about our unexpected life was so sad for him and hurt him. We couldn’t even get a picture taken without causing him pain!

It reminded me of something my oldest wrote in an essay at about the same age, only life, for him, was a lot different then: “I am like a camera taking pictures with my mind.” He was referring to happy memories, I think, and I couldn’t help but wonder what my middle son’s life camera was documenting for his future reference.

My challenge then, as it had always been, was to help my children create happy memories to record in the cameras of their minds. Only the material they were working with, the life they were documenting, had dramatically changed–and not for the better, I thought at that time.

But I had to help them do the best they could with what we had to work with. For them. And for me.

I had to hope that somehow, I could help them realize that, “Things that were hard to bear are sweet to remember.” (Seneca)

If you handle them right.

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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.

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Drive.

Date: May 4, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In the spring of 2009, after I entered the beginning phase of my unexpected life but before my divorce was final and I moved to Utah, my oldest came to me and invited me to go for a drive with him.

It was dark, late at night, but you never turn down an opportunity to spend time with your children. Especially at their invitation. Especially living through what we were living through. We were all we had.

We got in the car, he drove, and he headed away from the city lights toward the rural areas near our neighborhood. Pretty soon he spoke. “Mom,” he asked. “Do you WANT to move to Utah?”

Clearly, the move was on his mind and I couldn’t blame him. He was one of the few kids today who had lived in the same house, with the same schools and friends, never moving, everything the same, since he was eight months old. And now we were moving to begin a completely new life his junior year of high school in another state. Not quite the ideal time for such change. But then again, is there ever an ideal time to lose your entire life and everything you have ever known? At barely 16 years old?

How did I answer that?

With the truth.

I told him I’d been a Colorado resident since 1974 and had lived in the Denver area, with the same phone number, for 20 years. The only time I had left Colorado since then was to attend college, and even then, I loaded the moving van THE DAY I graduated from college and returned to Colorado. I reminded him I had built my entire adult life in Denver and living in Colorado was all I had ever really known. Most of my friends were in Colorado. Would I choose to leave all of that? Would I willingly do it if I didn’t HAVE to?

No.

But the job I desperately needed and had been hired to do (and was grateful for) was in Utah. Try as I had to stay in Colorado, everything had worked out for a new life in Utah. I had come to realize and accept that. I truly FELT that Utah was where we were supposed to go, for some reason.

My son looked at me with a shocked expression. (I guess I hadn’t complained enough about all of the changes and the move because he hadn’t realized the move might be hard for me too.) But it seemed to help him to know that the move was difficult for me too.

Kindred spirits in our grief.

So we made the move. It would be less than truthful if I didn’t admit IT WAS HARD. There were moments I wondered if my oldest would be scarred for life from the experience. It terrified me when I’d make the last round through the house late at night, before I went to bed, and I wouldn’t find him in bed. (That happened several times.) In a panic, I’d search the entire house and not find him. And then I’d eventually discover him outside, in the dark of the warm summer night, on the front lawn sobbing his grief.

It killed me. I couldn’t help but join him. All I could say through my tears was, “I’m sorry. I am SO SORRY that this is the life I have given you. I wanted more for you. You deserve more. But I promise you, I am here for you and will do anything I can to help you. Someday it will be all right.”

But inside I wondered how it, and he (and if I’m being totally honest, me, too) would ever be all right.

We endured the slow start to adjusting and making friends in a new state. We endured all that switching high schools entailed. It was hard for him to let go of his old life. Not the money–the life, the friends, the place he lived, the activities he participated in, everything BUT the money, actually. He felt as if he had lost everything.

In a way, I guess it was good for me. At the time I was so sick with worry about my children and helping them get through their experiences, I couldn’t really even take a moment to think about myself. I had to focus my effort and energy into helping my children make the transition, and as I did, somehow I made it right along with them.

Fast forward several months. And that same son came to me and told me he liked Utah. And then one day he told me he liked his new high school better than his old one. And then he told me he was happy and felt completely normal! I knew, then, that we had arrived. And everything really would be ok. All right.

Fast forward a few more months. And last night, my son got home from work at 11 p.m. and came to check in with me. The house was quiet, everyone else was asleep, and he invited me to go for a drive. All I could think about was the last drive I remembered taking with him. In Colorado.

I must have looked surprised, maybe even hesitant, because he entreated, “Come on, mom. I haven’t seen you all day. Lets talk.” You never turn down an opportunity to spend time with your children. Especially at their invitation.

We got in the car. He drove.

He talked to me about life and his contentment, happiness and joy with all of it was evident. He asked me about my life, and I told him how good my life is, but did share one small worry with him. He stopped the car, smiled at me, put his hand on my knee, patted it, and told me it would be all right.

And it will be.

Both he, and I, know it.

We just keep driving. And eventually, everything IS all right.

Our destination? Peace, happiness and joy…in our unexpected life. All right.

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We Press On In Spite Of The Red Stuff

Date: May 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I met my cousin and her husband for breakfast yesterday.

Like all of us, in the course of their almost 24-year marriage and raising four children, they have experienced a very fair share of their own adversities. But I loved their life philosophy and had to share it: “As long as everyone is conscious, and there is no blood, we’re ok. We can get through anything!”

When faced with a challenge, they take stock of the situation, make sure everyone is conscious and the blood is taken care of, and they press on!

It’s a good perspective to have and a good way to face life and its unexpected growth opportunities.

It works, too. (Except maybe for parents of sons who play ice hockey and lacrosse! lol. Then you play on in spite of the blood!) I remember attending one of my son’s basketball games and his best friend, who also played ice hockey with him, got hit in the face. Blood was gushing everywhere. The refs stopped the game, the boy was taken out and given first aid while the court was cleaned. To everyone’s surprise (except my son, who has the passion for hockey of Joe Sakic and other professionals) the boy returned shortly, gauze hanging out of each nostril like some kind of deformed unicorn-type creature, demanding to go back in and play. The adults were dubious about letting the boy play but my son and others said, “It’s ok! He’s a hockey player!”

They let the boy back in the game and he played his heart out. So I guess sometimes we press on in spite of the red stuff too.

“Victory at all costs, victory in spite of terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory there is no survival.” (Winston Churchill)

And as an added bonus, sometimes we even win the game.

Victory!

“Victory belongs to the most persevering.” (Napoleon Bonaparte)

Life.

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So Famous I Had My Own Paparazzi!

Date: April 28, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Have you ever been so famous, or perhaps infamous is a better word in the case of the Merriman family, that you had your own paparazzi?

I have.

And in case you were wondering, no, it isn’t as fabulous as it sounds.

During the events of 2009, after my spouse revealed the crimes He had committed and prepared to go to prison and as I prepared to leave the only life I’d ever known, we were blessed with our own paparazzi. Our own totally amateur and unprofessional frenzied followers, but our own paparazzi all the same.

My spouse handled it by becoming a mole. He stayed indoors, only went out at night, and kept a low profile. I don’t know that I “handled” it at all. I was simply appalled. So great was my horror of what some had degenerated to doing, I didn’t want to be like them in any way. So I continued to attempt to live my life and hold my head high as I did it. It was effort, let me tell you. To hold your head up when you’d really like, instead, to crawl under a rock!

“When you have the paparazzi hiding in the bushes outside your home, the only thing you can control is how you respond publicly.” (Portia de Rossi)

As we came and went, we’d see neighbors holding cameras, photographing us. And it seemed like every day, the government called us about something the neighbors had complained about. One day, the U.S. attorney called to ask about all of the boxes we’d been hauling out of our house. The problem? We hadn’t hauled any boxes away. But friends had hauled empty boxes to us so we could pack!

Another day, a government official called to say the neighbors had complained about me “hanging out on my porch and having fun.” They reported to the government that it looked like I was having fun and that made them mad! I could tell the government official was disgusted, and I admit, I hung up the phone and shook my head. WHO, in their right minds, would EVER look at me and be dumb enough to think I was enjoying myself? Sure, it’s a total dream come true to be hated and persecuted when you’re innocent. Yes, I LOVED to know I’d been lied to and betrayed for nearly 3/4 of my 20 year marriage. It was WONDERFUL to lose my money, home, cars, things, and life, and to lose it all so publicly. I was having the time of my life!

One day a government representative dropped by to check on things. Friends were in short supply, and he must have known it or saw the hungry desperation for a kind word in our eyes, because he generously stood in the entryway of our home and chatted for a few minutes before he left. As we talked, he got a text, checked it, gave a snort of disgust and shook his head. When I asked if everything was ok, he revealed the text. It said, “We saw you go in to the Merriman’s house and you haven’t come out yet. What is going on? Is everything all right?” I couldn’t believe it. I thought, “What? Are they going to accuse the Merriman family of murder, now, too?” It was crazy!

On July 4, 2009, instead of the usual holiday celebration, our family was forced to stay indoors to avoid the cameras, questions and complaints of neighbors. The holiday was a total bust. And of course, all my little boys wanted to do was light sparklers. Their dad absolutely forbid it due to the actions of our neighbors. Finally, at 10 p.m., it was completely dark outside and I couldn’t take it anymore. I took my children outside to light a few sparklers. After they each did about four, their dad made them stop and go back in to the house. My heart broke for innocent children who were even denied the childish pleasure of sparklers in the driveway of our home!

A few nights later, I was out front with my three year old. We were watched so closely I assumed all of the neighbors knew, but I guess they didn’t, because shortly I heard a “click-click-click” sound, looked over, and one of my non-victim neighbors was learning over the fence between our houses and photographing my car, my open garage door and all of the contents inside. I snapped. I said, “EXCUSE ME, can I help you?” He jumped about two feet in the air. Startled. And after accusing ME of stealing money from my neighbors, turned and hustled into his house as fast as he could go.

I continued to be watched like a hawk, even the day I moved from Colorado to Utah. After I arrived in Utah I found it had been circulated around the neighborhood the exact time I drove away. A friend called to let me know she heard I had driven away at 12:23 p.m. (That was right on, by the way.)

Paparazzi.

“The only thing I think I can be accused of about paparazzi is being really naive. I didn’t think about it coming along with the job and I never…fantasized about one bit of it.” (Paul Bettany)

I SO get what he’s saying.

The insanity of notoriety, for whatever reason or due to whatever cause.

Paparazzi.

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