Living Happily Ever After
test123

Blog Articles

It’s Ok To Be Uncommon

Date: October 14, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Great dreams… never even get out of the box. It takes an uncommon amount of guts to put your dreams on the line, to hold them up and say, “How good or how bad am I?” That’s where courage comes in.” (Erma Bombeck)

During that time I struggled to accept and adjust to my unexpected life, while I so desperately needed and waited for the miracles my children and I needed, it seemed as if everything was a battle. Each new day required courage.

One day I got a message from a co-worker that inspired me. It was just what I needed to hear at that time, and it meant so much to me, I saved it. I wasn’t sure why I saved it, at the time, (other than it inspired me when I really needed inspiration) but I figured out today it was so I could pass it along.

Here goes. The best “Ryan’s Rant” I ever received.

“As an entrepreneur at heart that knows the hardships of breaking away from the herd, I found this extremely inspiring this morning and I hope you do too. There are so many things in the world that can make even an optimistic man check how full his cup is, and at times it takes leaders like Dean Alfange to remind us it’s okay to be ‘uncommon.’

I Do Not Choose To Be A Common Man

‘It is my right to be uncommon–if I can. I seek opportunity–not security…I want to…dream and to build, to fail and to succeed…I prefer the challenges of life to the guaranteed existence…I will never cower before any master nor bend to any threat. It is my heritage to stand erect, proud and unafraid; to think and act for myself, enjoy the benefit of my creations and to face the world boldly and say,’This I have done.’”

Great advice for life, especially the unexpected one.

Because it takes uncommon effort to rise above it, to dream and to build in spite of it, to overcome it, and to succeed: to create happiness and joy in spite of, or again, perhaps because of it.

*The Honorable Dean Alfange was an American statesman born December 2, 1899, in Constantinople (now Istanbul). He was raised in upstate New York. He served in the U.S. Army during World War I and attended Hamilton College, graduating in the class of 1922.

A Miracle

Date: October 13, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Miracles happen to those who believe in them.” (Bernard Berenson)

One year ago, my oldest was having a rough time–and who could blame him?

He has always been an easygoing, level headed, great kid so some moments of grumpiness and impatience on his part, as he adjusted to his unexpected life, stood out like a sore thumb. I had a chat with him.

He cried and cried about how bad things were. He had no friends, no passion for sports, no life, no anything. I’ll never forget how he sobbed and sobbed; his heart broken. I could relate to everything he said because deep in the recesses of my soul I felt like I was living a life like that, too, I just wouldn’t let myself acknowledge it out loud. But I was old. He was only 16.

I cried with him and for him. I had wanted SO MUCH MORE for him. I couldn’t understand how my innocent children had ended up with such a mess. (Actually, yes I could. I knew I had chosen their father–which gave me a huge burden of guilt to bear for the part I played in bringing such horror to their childhood.) I didn’t know why they had to go through what they did, what I could do for them or how I could help them through it.

I needed a miracle. A serious miracle.

One year later, I have to acknowledge, again, that I got one. In fact, my family and I have received countless miracles and blessings. And nothing is as priceless as the miracle of light after incredible darkness and despair (aka. the unexpected life.)

“We can only appreciate the miracle of a sunrise if we have waited in the darkness”

Here’s just one example.

Today, this same child, is a senior in high school. He has great friends. He has created an amazing life for himself and keeps busy with school, work and social and sports activities. He went to homecoming this year with the homecoming queen. After only one season of play with his high school team hockey team, he has been selected team captain. Additionally, he has the privilege of practicing with his dream team–the BYU Cougar’s ice hockey team on their development squad. (He’d NEVER have had that opportunity if it weren’t for his unexpected life and what he chose to do with it.) And, it looks like he’s going to meet the admission criteria for the college of his choice, BYU, the college he has dreamed of attending since wearing his first BYU apparel (at six months old. Ok. So maybe it began as his parents’ dream, but it has since become his as well!) In fact, he is closer than ever to achieving all of his childhood dreams, despite his unexpected life, or perhaps, because of it. His only regret, now, is not getting to attend all four years of high school in Utah!

“Even miracles take a little time.”

Sometimes…just one year.

“Now the weight of gold that came to Solomon in one year was six hundred threescore and six talents of gold, Beside that he had of the merchantmen, and of the traffick of the spice merchants, and of all the kings of Arabia, and of the governors of the country.” (The Bible)

In My Dreams

Date: October 2, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“In my dreams, I could be a Princess, and that’s what I was. Like most little girls, I believed nothing less than a Prince could make my dreams come true.” (Loretta Young)

A marriage proposal is a moment. In time. In life. In dreams. And that marriage proposal moment with Bachelor #5 was no different–it was one of THOSE moments. Surreal, yet very real. When the past and the present come together. Where time seems to stands still.

The man I had fallen in love with was kneeling before me, proposing marriage, and this is what I was thinking:

“Is this REALLY happening?”

“Oh my gosh! THIS is a moment.”

“Focus, Andrea. You have to hear and remember everything he says!”

“My memory is terrible–how am I going to do that?”

“I have to remember this, I have to try to remember this moment, and this feeling, for the rest of my life.”

“Wait a second…what did he just say? That was really good, I HAVE to remember that!”

“Oh no! I can’t remember what he first said. I have to remember everything!”

My thoughts were racing. And then they turned to these:

“In one moment everything I loved, treasured, had known and held on to had been ripped out of my grasp; my entire existence devastated and destroyed. Words cannot express (although I’ve tried!) the depth of pain, grief, shock, sadness and betrayal that were mine in a single moment. Yet just 13 months later, although I’ve been absolutely convinced no one would ever want an ‘old bag’ like me again, that I was destined to remain alone for the rest of my existence, that my children would remain ‘fatherless’ and without male influence during the formative years of their childhood, my entire world is on the brink of near complete and total restoration. Words also cannot express the joy, exhilaration, depth of healing, happiness, and trust in something new–new hopes, new dreams, this new man, a new life, a new future and new possibilities–that are mine again. How can this be?”

In that moment I was overwhelmed by all that I had lost, by all that I had gone through, by all that I had learned, and also by gratitude for all that was now mine. I was so overwhelmed by all of that, tears rolled down my cheeks.

I think that’s one essential part of fairy tales that The Brothers Grimm and The Disney Corporation leave out of their stories. I bet those princesses cry when they realize that despite everything they’ve lost and have gone through–despite the dark forests they’re thrust into, the poison apples they’re handed, the cinders they sweep and the floors they scrub–they are on the brink of their happily ever. How can they be anything but overwhelmed by the emotions that surface when they see there really is a chance, after all, that all of their dreams can come true? And that maybe their lives are going to, as all fairy tales do, end with the promise of happily ever after.

Yes, I bet they cry. I know I did. Because, “Being a princess isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.” (Princess Diana) You’re just going to have to trust me on that one. I don’t recommend anyone find out the way I did!

So, “If you see me as just the princess then you misunderstand who I am and what I have been through. (Mariah Carey) Because all princesses are more than the sum of their miseries and the towers they’re locked in.

“I love that whole princess mentality, but I also like throwing my hair in a ponytail and just wearing jeans, going on a hike and then eating a big chili-cheeseburger.” (Jennifer Love Hewitt)

It’s Time…For Skid Marks

Date: September 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“What you need to know about the past is that no matter what has happened, it has all worked together to bring you to this very moment. And this is the moment you can choose to make everything new. Right now.

The day arrived. I was ready to say the words.

I didn’t want to think about what I was about to do, afraid I’d come up with a reason or an excuse not to. So while we were sitting on a sofa in a very special place I charged ahead, not letting myself think, and asked one more question. Bachelor #5 probably wanted to roll his eyes at yet another question, but he refrained.

I asked, “If I marry you, and after we’re married when my flaws and shortcomings are abundant, and you realize you haven’t gotten exactly what you bargained for, will you stay and make the best of it, or will you want to leave?”

He said, “Of course I’ll stay. Everyone has shortcomings. It will just give us something to work on together. I’ll help you and you help me.” I thought he’d say that, but I had to make sure. (THAT was the right answer, by the way.)

I responded, “Ok then, ‘it’s time.’”

I don’t think he expected that.

And although it’s hard to catch a man who is organized and plans ahead for everything off guard, I think I succeeded! He did a double take, looked at me with wide eyes and asked, “What did you just say?”

I repeated, “It’s time.”

I think he still couldn’t believe it. He asked, “Are you serious?”

I was.

He said, “I didn’t expect you to decide so fast!” Given the many weeks I had struggled to come to a decision and make a decision, it didn’t seem that fast to me–but I could relate to the whole speed thing. I definitely wasn’t expecting something like Bachelor #5 and what he offered to happen in my unexpected life…and so fast! Interestingly, for once, the man who always has something to say, didn’t have much to say.

He simply hugged me, took me home, and drove away–actually, sped away might be a better description–without a backward glance. He may have been shocked. Or scared. Or maybe, knowing how he thinks and plans ahead, possibly already working on “taking care of the rest.”

So, “If you never want to see a man again, say, ‘I love you, I want to marry you. I want to have children…’ – they leave skid marks.”

Bachelor #9: Mr. Universe

Date: June 29, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

Bachelor #9 planned some fun dates–like skiing in Park City. But he was too impatient for my taste. And I wasn’t impatient enough for his!

Although he was a father, he couldn’t seem to grasp what it meant to date a mother. He wanted to call, talk, text, date or email ALL of the time. I just couldn’t do that. And because I couldn’t spend a lot of time doing things like that, because I needed to spend time with my children when I wasn’t working full-time, he dumped me.

“I can tell you’re just not that into me. If you liked me, if you were really interested in me, you’d make more time for me.”

You know, he was probably right.

But his parting comment made me laugh. “Have a nice life. Good luck finding a man willing to accept so little time and effort from you.”

If he only knew, huh? I devoted the time and effort to dating that I thought my family could spare. It’s simply that all of my effort wasn’t focused solely on him! What Bachelor #9 needed was to be the center of a woman’s universe. (I don’t blame him for wanting that at all, by the way.)

Unfortunately, “The Universe has as many different centers as there are living beings in it” (Alexander Solzhenitsyn)

And I guess there just wasn’t the time or interest, on my part, to make him mine.

Farewell, Bachelor #9.

Three Weeks Later

Date: May 18, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

In my new life in Utah, I commute to work. The entire drive I am fortunate to have beautiful, jagged rocky mountains to look at. Last year, my commute was my time to have a few minutes of silence every day–I couldn’t listen to the radio because most of the songs made me cry. And at that time, not crying when I was alone was hard enough, I didn’t need any extra help! lol. In 2009, my commute was also my time to try NOT to think about what had become my life.

Three weeks into my new life in Utah, I read a story about a pioneer man who lost his wife coming across the plains. He buried her, and by that night had also lost his infant son. He walked back to his wife’s grave, dug her up and buried the baby with her, and then returned to the wagon train he was traveling with. He quit writing in his journal for awhile, but when he picked up again, he wrote only, “Still Walking.”

That’s how I felt.

I didn’t have the time, energy, or opportunity to write about my life. I was hardly able to face what had become of my life. I wasn’t sure why it was my new life. I struggled with my new life. And because I’d been taught “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all,” I didn’t say anything. I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t have the time to write anyway.

If I had written, I would have recorded that in the beginning of my new life as a single mother, I HATED leaving my children and going to work each day. I was filled with grief for the many things I had lost and for what my innocent children had been put through. It took all of my will to get up every day and go to work, come home, and do everything for the family.

I also had a moment or two, I admit, of thinking (while I commuted) “If this is the rest of my life, if THIS is what I have to look forward to for the next 40-60 years, I don’t think I want it.” Sometimes my optimism was…not optimism! As I drove, my mental “wallowing” was equivalent to a pig stuck in muck in the barnyard. I knew it. I didn’t want to be that, but sometimes I just couldn’t help myself. In the beginning, I couldn’t imagine ever healing, ever feeling “whole” again or ever being o.k. with any part of my life. I just felt like I had to live my new life and give the appearance that things were good and I was happy for the sake of my children.

I think, or at least I hope, that most of those feelings I wallowed in were normal. In my experience, it was part of the process of healing and overcoming. The trick, though, is to not allow yourself to get stuck in the “mental muck” for too long; to not allow yourself to wallow too deep. Because, “They say that time changes things, but you actually have to change them yourself.” (Andy Warhol)

He’s right.

So I hoped for better days ahead. I didn’t know how long it would take them to arrive, but I knew I had to hang on until they did. I had to hope that, as my mom used to say, “this too, shall pass.” I had to hope that I would feel comfort and peace, that I would be able to carry on just one more day. I had to hope that I’d be able to have fun with my children again. (We’d all grieved so much, I felt we needed FUN! I knew I needed to set a good example of fun for my children, I just felt so heavy in my heart I didn’t know how I would be able to do that, too.)

And in addition to hope, I had to do what I could to look for the good and count the blessings I still had. I had to work to create a life I could be happy with and I had to let go of the old one. There was still a good life to be lived. A very different life from the life I’d had or imagined as my future, but it was still good.

“Difficult times have helped me understand better than before how infinitely rich and beautiful life is in every way, and that so many things that one goes worrying about are of no importance whatsoever.” (Isak Dinesen)

Somewhere along I-15, and with time, by the fall of 2009 I noticed I was crying less and then eventually not crying at all. There isn’t a lot to cry about anymore. In fact, there may not be anything left to cry about. I can’t remember the last time I cried.

My mom was right. Again.

Things DO pass. Time DOES heal. You just have to let things and time work their magic. And you have to use the things you are “blessed” with, to make you a better person than you would otherwise have been. Difficult times have helped me realize that, again, and so much more.

Bookmark and Share

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.

Bookmark and Share

Volumes of “Lies”

Date: April 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I got a fun comment and suggestion from a former Colorado neighbor (that identity alone should explain what is coming) and client of my former spouse the other day. He, along with many others, has discovered this blog and is apparently QUITE a fan! He not only takes the time to read it, he even spends time commenting.

He kindly pointed out I’ve mistakenly titled my blog. He suggested the title of this blog should be “lies, lies and more lies.” In his honor, and to give credit where credit is due, I feel compelled to blog about that.

The first thing I did when I saw it was LAUGH. I got a kick out of his suggestion not just because it is totally ridiculous (and inaccurate) but because, in a way, I could relate.

You see, I have been a pretty good journal writer most of my life. I got my first journal about age 12 and have been quite consistent over the years in recording the events of my life. In 2009, after my former spouse revealed that He had been running a ponzi scheme most of our marriage, that He was heading to prison, that everything I thought we had was gone, and that I would be left alone to raise and provide for our four children, I had to prepare to move from our home and begin a new life. Having lived in the same home for 16 years, there was a lot of work to be done. Lots of packing. And one day I got to packing the room my old journals were stored in.

As I looked at the approximately 30 volumes I’d written over the previous years of my life, I didn’t know what to do with them.  I treasured the books I’d written as a youth and college student–everything prior to my marriage to Him.  But what to do with the journals recording the life I’d led married to a criminal? As I handled each one, I wasn’t sure what to think of them anymore.

Although what I had written and recorded was life as I had known it (because I had no idea what was going on in the double life my spouse had been leading for 15 years or even that he was living a double life), in that moment, none of the history I’d recorded seemed true or real. At that time, everything was so tainted by the dishonesty and criminal behavior of one man, I felt like I was in possession of Volume 1 of Lies, Volume 2 of Lies, and so on.

What DO you do with volumes of words that don’t seem to be real anymore?

I still haven’t decided.

But I’m afraid I’m going to need a storage unit for the memories! lol. A place to hold the volumes of personal history, the wedding photos from 1989, and everything else that is not mine anymore…that I still am not sure what to do with.  The only thing I’m sure of is time.

I have time to decide.

Because,”Time heals what reason cannot.” (Seneca, Roman philosopher in the mid-1st century A.D.)