Living Happily Ever After
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“Oh, How Nice!”

Date: April 19, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“The first of April is the day we remember what we are the other 364 days of the year.” (Mark Twain)

Actually, it was the first of March…but it showed me pretty much the same thing April was bound to.

Our first Sunday back at church after our honeymoon, our pastor asked #5 and I to address our congregation the following week. The Sunday of our assigned talks, I gave mine and sat down. I was followed by #5, who gave an excellent and heartfelt talk and ended it by expressing his love and gratitude for his wife; thanking her for her good example and for all she had taught him.

I sat there watching #5 conclude his talk, listening to him express his love and gratitude for his wife, and never thinking a thing of it–other than to think to myself in a very detached way (like I did the entire time I was single), “Oh, how nice. That man is married and that man loves his wife.”

He finished, turned to sit down and then suddenly it hit me:  Wait! He was talking about ME! I was HIS wife!

Married two weeks, and I’d already forgotten who my husband was! I’d found adjusting to being single after 20 years of marriage very difficult. I never imagined that the fulfillment of my dream–to find an amazing man, fall in love and remarry–would be an adjustment, too! But apparently it was going to be, since I experienced a total brain freeze about being married again just two weeks into it!

Second marriage moment #3.

“If it’s hard to remember, it’ll be difficult to forget.” (Arnold Schwarzenegger)

Thank goodness my forgetfulness only lasted a moment.:)

“Yours Mine And Ours”

Date: March 17, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I don’t answer the phone.  I get the feeling whenever I do that there will be someone on the other end.” (Fred Couples)

The phone call came at the end of the work day Monday afternoon. It was from the ice arena. Our sons, the boys we’d disagreed about and had broken our engagement off over just the night before, had gotten into a public brawl on the ice. Supposedly, his son bumped my son while they were skating and hitting pucks (that’s hockey.) But my son didn’t like that and hit his son. His son hit mine back for hitting him. And then my son took his hockey stick to his son, swung it like a baseball bat and hit his son across the back!

My oldest son witnessed it, ejected my middle son from the ice, and the offender was MAD. He called me, wanted me to pick him up from the ice rink so he wouldn’t have to wait there and watch the other boys having fun. Unfortunately, I work in another city so that wasn’t possible. (I also thought it wouldn’t hurt him to cool off, to sit and watch the other boys having fun on the ice, so I told him we’d talk about it when we got home.)

I hung up the phone and shook my head. WhoEVER would have thought I’d be the mother of a son who got in a brawl, in public? Certainly not me! (Yet here I am, delighting in all kinds of unexpected experiences I’m continually blessed with.)

Then I called #5 and left him a message. ”I don’t know if you’ve heard yet, but there was a physical altercation on the ice today. I’m calm, I’m not upset; I hope you are too. While I don’t know if you have other plans for this evening, I don’t think we can let this go any longer. We need to sit down and talk to the boys, together, tonight.”

It’s funny how life prepares you for…life. How certain things (people, places, events, experiences) can prepare you for other things–even when you don’t realize you’re going to need them. Like how we’d had our disagreement about our boys just the night before. At the time, I’d thought it was a terrible thing–to fight and then break up–yet in reality, it allowed us to work through our issue, separate the issue from us, get it together and present a united front to our children.

When #5 walked into my home that night, he looked at me with a smile and joked, “What would Mike and Carol Brady do?”

There was only one answer to that. I’d learned it from my wise Colorado friend when I mistakenly expected to make my remarriage/blended family situation like The Brady Bunch and it wasn’t working, and I’d thought I was disappointed–until she straightened me out. I shared it with #5.  I said, “PLEASE! It doesn’t matter what Mike and Carol would do. We aren’t the Brady Bunch, never will be, and I’m ok with that.” I added, “Mike was gay; Carol was depressed; Greg kissed his step-sister Marcia; Alice couldn’t get her love, Sam-the-meat-man to commit…I don’t want or need to be The Brady Bunch!”

And in that moment I realized, again, I really feel that way. What #5 and I have, with our children, is right for us. It’s actually very, very good. We need to help a couple of our children learn to appreciate each other a little more–however biological siblings sometimes need to work on that, too.

But it was a good opportunity to tell #5 what I DID want: ”If we’re going to be like anyone, I want to be ‘Yours Mine & Ours!’” I exclaimed.

He looked at me strangely, couldn’t figure that one out, I guess, because he asked, “‘Yours Mine & Ours?’ Why that? They had way more kids than we do and besides, I’m not in the armed forces.”

“Yes, I know!” I explained. “But Rene Russo is WAY hotter. If I’m going to be like anyone, let alone any stepmother, let it be her!”

We laughed, went in together and had a great talk with our sons. I have to say, I think that challenge made us better; stronger than ever. The challenges of life, the unexpected life itself, have a way of doing that, you know.

“Troubles are often the tools by which God fashions us for better things.” (Henry Ward Beecher)

Our Break Up

Date: March 15, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Eyes that do not cry, do not see.” (Swedish Proverb)

I’d come to the realization of how I truly felt too late. I think maybe I’d found #5 so quickly, so “easily”, and had healed so thoroughly and completely during our engagement, that maybe a small part of me began to take the miracle of #5 a little bit for granted.

SHAME ON ME.

Could even a tiny part of me also have begun to think I might be doing him a little bit of a favor by marrying him? (Ludicrous, I know! I mean, look at me! Look at my life! WHO would want to take my unexpected life on? Probably no one BUT #5, yet when there was an issue to be resolved I seemed to ask myself, “Wait. Is this really what I want? Is this going to be good for me, for my children? Should I really do this?”)

In fact, one time I’d told #5 that’s what engagements are for–to try the relationship out, see if it works for us, see if it’s what we want, knowing we don’t have to follow through with it and can back out if it’s not right or not working for us. He, however, was appalled at that rationale. He said that is NOT what engagements are, in his eyes. That he would never have proposed to me had he not been fully committed to me and marrying me. To #5, engagements were very similar to marriage (except for the living together aspect.)

Very different philosophies. But we’d hung in there together, for a long time, until THAT night. The night he dumped me.

And then suddenly, dinner and dessert were over, everyone left, and it was just us standing alone in the kitchen again. I braced myself for his departure. I thought, “Ok, here is where he actually does leave. I guess we’ll figure the details of the break-up out later. I just don’t want to be home when he gets his stuff.”

But instead of turning and leaving, he said something very unexpected. He looked at me and asked, “Would you like to go to your room and talk?”

That’s when I REALLY knew it was over. He never set foot in the upstairs of my house, especially my bedroom (to set a good example for our kids.) But in that moment, that night, he went there willingly.  To talk about our break up.

I walked up the stairs to my room so nervous I could hardly breathe.

I dreaded the conversation.

We walked into my room, he shut and locked the door behind him, and turned around to face me.

“Next time I see you, remind me not to talk to you.” (Groucho Marx)

Therapy Is Kinda Like…

Date: September 24, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Seriously Small World

Date: August 13, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Aw, man, it’s a small world!” (“Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back,” 2001)

We talked. We laughed. We shared experiences from our lives. It was uncanny how much we had in common. Seriously, a LOT in common. Even some of the same friends!

As an adult I’d made an older friend in Colorado. She had adopted her children and once we got on the subject of adoption; I told her I had been adopted too. She asked me what I knew of my birth mother and I told her everything except my birth mother’s name. Turns out, my friend had gone to the same university in Utah as my birth mother and had been on the same dance team! She wanted to know the name, she was just sure she’d know her.

I was afraid of that, too. Which is why I didn’t feel I could tell anyone the name. (I learned to be a lot more circumspect after that. I was learning how seriously small the world is.) So instead, my friend told me her maiden name and told me to go home and look at the pictures I was in possession of and see if she was in them.

She was.

I didn’t get back with her, hoping my friend would forget all about it, but she followed up with me. I admitted she was in the pictures with my birth mother and told her she probably had known my birth mother. She racked her brain trying to figure out who my birth mother could be. For years. But she never mentioned any names and I never volunteered any information.

In the meantime, we continued to visit together about once a month, and even went out to lunch for my birthday for several years.

The first time I met my birth mother in person, at some point in the evening I said, “Oh! I think I might know someone you know!” I mentioned my friend and our association over several years, revealed the woman’s first name but was struggling to remember her maiden name, when my birth mother named it for me.

She said, “Not only do I know her, she was my best friend all through college. We were roommates. I was the matron of honor at her wedding!”

How is THAT for a small world? A seriously small world!

“It’s a small world. No kidding.” (“Just Friends,” 2005)

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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Another Stranger

Date: March 26, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Day two or three after the nightmare began, my college friend called.  She told me she was having trouble dealing with the whole situation. (They were our friends.  Her parents were some of His victims.)

“Do you realize,” she asked, “That we have been so upset that we can’t do anything?  We literally can’t function.  We can’t even feed our children!  We’re devastated.  We’ve been so betrayed.”

I could relate.

She told me she had learned things about Him she needed to share, to make sure I understood all that had been going on under my nose for 16 years.  Those clueless years. I listened.  I learned things I’d never known.

Then she said, “Andrea, do you realize if you walk away with anything, ANYTHING, from this you will be stealing like He did?  If you walk away with anything other than the clothes on your back, and your children, you’ll be stealing! Don’t you agree?”

Unfortunately I didn’t.

“Actually, no,” I replied. It was one of the few times, maybe the only time, in the history of our 22-year friendship I could remember disagreeing. “I will take anything the authorities allow me to have, and I will use it to rebuild a life for my children.  I guess until you have been left as I have, utterly destitute–with no home, no job, no money and four children to provide for–you can’t understand.  But I WILL take anything the government gives me and be grateful for it.”

We finished the conversation (I don’t remember the rest of what was said), said goodbye, and hung up.  I didn’t know that would be the last time we talked to each other.

Suddenly, another stranger in my life.