Living Happily Ever After
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Me Too!

Date: April 7, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“To feel much for others and little for ourselves; to restrain our selfishness and exercise our benevolent affections, constitute the perfection of human nature.” (Adam Smith)

Before we get to the details of the big day, I have to pause and commend someone for something: #5. For his patience, restraint and consideration of my privacy and this blog.

I remember our date after I began blogging, when I was telling him all about it as we drove down the road. Deciding to tell my story was a momentous decision for me, and for my children, and I was letting him in on the details. One of his first questions was, “Tell me something, would it ruin your blog if you weren’t writing as a single mother?” That was in the days before I knew he was interested in me, and long before I was romantically interested in him, so I didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about or why he would even ask that!

As our relationship progressed he continued to stay very anonymous, for his sake, and mine, although he made jokes about getting a t-shirt made that said, “#5″ and a myriad of other #5-related slogans. He good-naturedly made lots of jokes about catchy slogans he could put on clothing for himself, thanks to my blog. And he was very patient about every private detail of our courtship being posted to a blog read by people he didn’t know. He was a VERY good sport about the bachelor section, too, despite the fact it was very educational for him–he’d never had any idea I was as involved in the singles scene as I had been. (Although that was when he quit reading this blog, never to return again!)

When we got engaged, and he wanted to tell everyone in his social network, he was restrained enough to share just the basic information: that he was getting married, to a woman named Andrea from Denver–and that’s it. When he organized his list of family on Facebook, he was good enough to leave me off.

But apparently, late that evening, the night before our appointed wedding day, he lost it. He abandoned all restraint. My sister got on Facebook and unexpectedly, found a post that entertained us. #5 had been on Facebook and logged a status update:

“I’m gettin’ married in the mornin’. Yeah!”

And it was as true for him as it had been in “My Fair Lady.” (You have to love his taste for the theatrical!)

Although I rarely get on Facebook, and I comment even less, that night I couldn’t resist. I was getting married in the morning too, so I guess I was feeling a bit reckless as well. I commented, “Me too!” And my sister “liked” it:)

Some last minute advice for #5 before it’s too late: “If you’re going to do something tonight that you’ll be sorry for tomorrow morning, sleep late.” (Henny Youngman)

And Dinner Was Served

Date: March 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Men are like fine wine. They all start out like grapes, and its our job to stomp on them and keep them in the dark until they mature into something you’d like to have dinner with.” (Kathleen Mifsud)

Unless you’re #5 and you start out mature (ie. older) and YOU do the stomping by dumping your fiancee BEFORE dinner! It happened like this…

On that fateful Sunday night, #5 had invited his family to my home for dinner. He arrived early to help with preparations, all of our children were in the basement and we were in my kitchen. Somehow we got on the subject of two children (one of his, one of mine) and we had a disagreement.

“Thus, we see that one of the obvious origins of human disagreement lies in the use of noises for words.” (Algred Korzbyski)

He dug his heels in in defense of his son, I dug my heels in in defense of my son, and things degenerated from there. It got so petty we even argued about the boys’ ages. When I suggested his son was the older child so he should set more of the example, he corrected me, saying his son was just one year older so they were basically the same age. In a burst of maturity I got even more petty by correcting the age difference: “Well, if you’re going to get so specific and picky about it, your son is actually 19 MONTHS older–and two years older in school!” (Wow. 19 months. Two years in school.  That’s a lifetime. Petty, I know.)

Unexpectedly, he stood up and said he would get his son and leave. He had NEVER done that before, by the way. He turned and walked out of the room. I stood there, alone in my kitchen, stunned.

I was dumbfounded.

Leave? Because of a disagreement? When his family was due to arrive any minute? We hadn’t had many disagreements our entire engagement–I think I’ve chronicled all two of them–but he headed to the basement to call his son. For some reason, I followed him.

“You’re just going to leave?” I asked.

He was. He said he was sorry, but that he just couldn’t do it anymore. That maybe the timing was bad. That he’d never planned to get married until his son was 18, but then he’d met me and it had changed everything. However, after all of the time we had spent together and during the course of our long engagement, there were things that hadn’t changed and he didn’t know what else to do–so he was leaving.

I was appalled. “You’re going to leave, without even fighting FOR us?”

Before he could answer, in the pause, the doorbell rang.

His family.

It was like a bad movie.

Too late to leave, #5 expressed his displeasure with a roll of his eyes, muttered, “Oh, CRAP!” and then kicked into performer/entertainer mode. He answered the door with a smile, acted like everything was fine and normal, was friendly to everyone (except me) and prepared to serve dinner. Unfortunately, I’m not an actress.

His brother walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Andrea, are you all right?” To which I lied, “Yes, fine!” He looked at me, puzzled, and asked again, “Are you sure? You look tired or something.” I changed the subject and carried on. Or attempted to, anyway.

Later, as the kids came up for dinner, my high school son walked in, took one look at me and asked, “Mom? Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I lied.

And dinner was served.

“Here they are, top of the food chain, and dinner is served.” (Jeffrey Jones, “The Devil’s Advocate”)

Congratulations…or Condolences?

Date: January 27, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman
“I still feel pangs of remorse over an insidious habit I’ve had since I was a teenager. About three times a week, I attend estate auctions and make insulting, low-ball bids for prized heirlooms until I’m asked to leave.” (Dennis Miller) 

Last night, the major Denver news channels ran stories about an auction scheduled this weekend. A special one. To liquidate “The Merriman Estate.”

There was plenty of video detailing the numerous and varied items that are for sale. It was strange to see things I had once (sort of) possessed featured in the media and slated for the auction block.

Someone asked me how it felt.

I’m not sure it feels anything but right; it certainly doesn’t make me sad. Maybe because I never considered most of it “mine,” and I definitely never thought of it that way after the truth behind the purchases was revealed! And although I never knew a Ponzi scheme was taking place behind my back, and despite the fact I had no involvement in my former spouse’s crimes, I am happy that there are things that can be sold and that there will be some proceeds that can be used to pay restitution to the victims of Shawn Merriman’s Ponzi scheme. I’m just sorry there won’t be more money to give them.

In fact, to anyone out there who has missed hearing me say it, I’m sorry any investment scam ever took place. Especially one any family member of mine, former or otherwise, perpetrated!

Truth be told, and anyone who knows me can verify this, it stressed me out. All of that “stuff” added stress to my world.

Here are just a few reasons why:

1. I was embarrassed to have so much “stuff.”

2. I didn’t really know everything we had–but it seemed like there was too much “stuff.”

3. I worried about the effect all of that stuff might have on my children. I was trying to raise down to earth, hard working, good children with good values who focused on the right things and material stuff, to some degree, contradicted my parenting objectives. For that reason, my children didn’t get allowance (but had to do chores around the house without pay); they didn’t get to have birthday parties very often; and they had to ride the school bus, and walk the half-mile to the bus stop. (I gave them as much “hardship” as I possibly could in the hopes they would develop character.)

4. I hardly bought any of the stuff. ( I purchased clothes for myself and my children, groceries, gas for my car, and household items…but I didn’t really buy much beyond that–the motorhome just showed up one day, as did the Astin Martin, art, ATVs, and many, many other items. I don’t think I had a clue that most of Shawn Merriman’s purchases even took place, I was focused on my family and the home I lived in, NOT stuff. )

5. It has been my experience that the more you possess, or own, the more responsibility you have to take care of it; the more space you need; the more of your time you have to spend maintaining what you have. (And in my opinion, what a waste of precious hours and minutes of each day when  you have to focus on a bunch of stuff!)

Just a few of the reasons I’m not sad to see any of it go. Best wishes to those who purchase things at the auction. I hope it makes you happy and that you enjoy it. But for me, it’s more like this:

“People always say congratulations. When you’re a successful bidder it means you’re willing to spend more money than anyone else. I’m not sure if that’s congratulations or condolences.” (Eli Broad)

Congratulations!

Or, my condolences…

Looking to Make a Statement?

Date: November 9, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman
Once a woman has forgiven her man, she must not reheat his sins for breakfast.  ~Marlene Dietrich
I got an email from my former husband last week. In it, he listed the many things he has said and done, all of the changes he is trying to make in his life (from prison), so that someday I’ll forgive him.

I was absolutely blown away by that.

I forgave him a long time ago. I’m not sure exactly when, all I know is that from the moment my unexpected life began, I sought to forgive Him. My children know I have forgiven their father. My friends and family know I have forgiven my former husband. I think the world knows it, too, but somehow He never got it.

I told him  I have already forgiven him; in fact, that I forgave him as quickly as I could.

He sent me another email, told me I have no idea how long he has waited to hear me say that, thanked me for forgiving him and again pointed out everything he had said and done to make my forgiveness possible.

I was blown away by that too.

I have always known to forgive. My parents taught me to say I was sorry when I did something wrong and to forgive others when they did something wrong and said they were sorry. As I grew older, they taught me to forgive others whether or not they said they were sorry, or even WERE sorry, for what they had done. I am so grateful for my parents and what they taught me. Because as an adult, I saw too many people who allowed the actions of others, or their life experiences, to literally ruin them. I saw too many people focused on the wrongs that had been committed against them, too many people with souls cankered by hatred for things others had done and not enough people focused on everything “right” in their lives.

I realized, not for the first time, that life may not be a lot of things–easy, breezy, calm or fair–but life is always a choice. To live or not to live. To be happy. To laugh. To have faith. To hope. To forgive.

Yes, forgiveness is a choice. Forgiveness is a choice we must make, regardless of the choices made by anyone else.

I was stunned that I lived with someone for 20 years and he didn’t understand that. I was amazed that He had watched me teach and train our children, including to forgive others, and he never got it. So I had to clarify a few things with him. I told him that although I was glad he sought to do what was right, my forgiveness has absolutely nothing to do with him or anything he has said or done to demonstrate his sorrow. My forgiveness is all mine; and it doesn’t hinge on what he or anyone else does. I forgive because I believe the world is in great need of its sweet fragrance.

“Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it.” (Mark Twain)

Forgiveness was a choice I made. And although I did it because it was the right thing to do, I also did it for me–so I wouldn’t destroy the rest of my life or poison my soul, harbor a grudge, or carry the burden of hatred and venom like an unproductive boulder-filled backpack weighing me down because of an unwillingness to forgive.

I don’t believe you earn forgiveness.

You earn money. You earn trust. If you’re wise with your money (and can keep it out of the hands of Ponzi schemers) you may even earn interest. But you can’t “earn” the forgiveness of another.

“I wasn’t satisfied just to earn a good living. I was looking to make a statement.” (Donald Trump)

One of the most important statements we can make in life, unexpected or otherwise, is this: I forgive.

One Date

Date: June 10, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

An interesting thing happened on that first date. Well, a couple of things.

First, I learned that your date always wants to know your story on the first date–ie. why you got divorced. Wow. I didn’t know that in advance and I was so clueless about dating in the year 2009 I didn’t know to expect that. So when Bachelor #1 asked me that, in my usual deer-caught-in-headlights style, I told him the WHOLE story. Based on the way I’d been treated by some people since the nightmare leading to my single status began, I worried he might open the door and leave me on the side of the road in a Utah city I didn’t know very well yet as soon as he knew my history! But I didn’t consider not telling him or not telling the truth. So I told him. Everything.

His reaction shocked me. He looked at me and said just two words: “I’m sorry.”

Sorry? HE was sorry? He hadn’t done anything. He hadn’t been there, hadn’t known me, in fact, had just met me but he was sorry? I was stunned. He told me he was sorry about what had happened to me and my children. He said he was sorry we had had to live through all of that. And you know what? Just having a virtual stranger hear my story and tell me he was sorry it had happened (instead of immediately questioning my knowledge of what had gone on–or worse, my possible involvement) was healing. I was on the path to overcoming.

Other things helped too. Like laughing, having fun, and feeling carefree for an hour or two. I noticed that for the first time since March 18, I didn’t feel alone and like I, alone, was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. While on that date, I had a break from my sorrow and my troubles and THAT was a welcome relief!

And, of course, after the decades of lies and betrayals that led to me worrying about being an “old bag” and feeling like one, having a man compliment my appearance was an added bonus!

Before I went in the house, my date also gave me some excellent dating advice for the second time around.

He told me I’d find dating very different in my 40s. He said that by the time people reach our age, they know very quickly what they want and what they don’t want. He told me to not be offended if someone didn’t like me or want to date me a second time. He said, “Remember back in high school just because you met people, you didn’t want to date ALL of them!” (Just when you thought high school was long in the past…you become unexpectedly single again!) He told me never to think something was wrong with me, it would simply be a matter of them and what they were looking for.

I headed into the house sure I’d never hear from him again.

One date. And already a loser!

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No Instinct Whatsoever

Date: March 21, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I arrived “home.”  My spouse met me in the back yard, handed me a phone, told me it was his attorney, and that his attorney wanted to speak with me.

I took the phone, put it to my ear, the attorney introduced himself and said, “Andrea, I know we haven’t met yet, but I am so sorry for the day you must be having.  I can’t imagine what you must be thinking and how you must be feeling.  I am so sorry for the circumstances that led to this day for you and your children. And I’m sorry for the many days ahead.”

I don’t know what I expected from an attorney.  I’d never spoken to one, professionally, before.  But I didn’t expect him to be so kind to me, yet at the same time, I was completely distrustful.  I didn’t know who or what to believe any more.  The kind tone of his voice made me begin to cry. Again.

I asked, through my tears, “How do I know you’re telling me the truth? How do I know you are who you say you are? How do I know you aren’t involved in all of this and that this is not just another deception for my benefit? How can I believe anything you say?”

He told me he could understand why I felt that way and all he could do was assure me he had never met or heard of my spouse until two days earlier, when my spouse had walked into the attorney’s legal office and confessed what He had done.

I wish I were a better writer.  I wish I had the capability to express how scared I was; how alone I felt; and how it felt to turn to a literal stranger on the phone.  But I didn’t know what else to do.  I didn’t know who to trust or even who to turn to for help.  I felt like a fugutive.  And I needed someone to tell me what to do.

“What do I do now?” I asked.

He told me I needed to hire an attorney.  I, who had never cheated in school; I, who had never stolen so much as a grape from the grocery store without paying for it; I, who had always tried to live a life of complete and total integrity; I, who wouldn’t even let myself indulge in “white lies” needed an attorney? I couldn’t comprehend it.  I could not believe the position I was in through no fault or action of my own.  And it scared me.

But his next words terrified me.

“And whatever you do, don’t go near a bank.  Don’t touch any of your bank accounts.  Don’t try to access any money!” he warned.

OOPS.

Don’t you love how my one and only reaction was THE ONLY THING I should not have done? Obviously, I wasn’t cut out for a life of crime.  I just don’t have the natural instinct for it. Another reason to never try sky diving.