Living Happily Ever After
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Don’t Sit Home

Date: March 18, 2013  Author: Andrea Merriman

My recent job change has reminded me of one key to success in living an unexpected life: don’t sit home and think about it! Do what you have to do. Carry on.

A few weeks ago, the night before my first day at my new job, my daughter asked, “Mom, are you afraid?”

Her question surprised me. No, I wasn’t afraid–I hadn’t even thought to be! (Quite a different experience than the last time I began a new job: 2009. And it made me realize, yet again, how far I (and my children) have come.) The last time I began a new job, I had been thrust into the middle of a giant nightmare of which probably every fear I’d ever had (rational or irrational), or that had been a part of a nightmare as I slept, or that was the worst-case-scenario from fictional Hollywood movies, were my sudden reality. (If I’m going to be honest about that time…I was afraid of practically everything! Including, even, my own name. Every time I said my name, Andrea Merriman, I  feared someone would recognize it and judge me just based on that.)

But I’ve never believed fear is permission to quit or give up, however tempting that may be. (And thankfully I had four children to provide for, to keep alive, which helped me rise above the temptation to hide!) Fear just adds to the challenge of carrying on and of living. But you still have to do it.

So I faced my fears every day. I got out of bed and went to work, no matter how difficult; and many days, it was incredibly difficult–a sick pit in my stomach every Sunday night knowing another work week lay ahead; an inability to sleep at night worrying about the coming work week and wondering how I was going to get through it; crying all the way in to work; managing to get through the work day and then crying all the way home from work; and walking in the door to begin another “full day” of work as a single mother during the evening hours, catching up on everything I’d missed during the day while at work, helping with dinner, dishes, homework, laundry, housework, reading to a child and a few attempts at new family memories as well. I confess there were nights my 3 year old didn’t go to bed until 11 p.m. and I would later fall into bed, exhausted, at 1 a.m. or later to arise a few hours later, at 6 a.m. to begin it all over again!

But I guess the point is…that we did it. We got up, we faced our fears, and eventually we triumphed over them. And at some point, the sick stomach went away, eventually I was able to sleep at night, at some point I was able to get my youngest in bed at a decent hour, and I not only did my job, but had professional success which resulted in a new opportunity. Most of all, however, I somehow “forgot” to be afraid.

“If you want to conquer fear, don’t sit home and think about it. Get out and get busy.” (Dale Carnegie)

It worked for me.

Danger

Date: September 28, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“You can’t talk of the dangers of snake poisoning and not mention snakes.” (C. Everett Koop)

I learned something else from the MSNBC episode of “American Greed” that featured the crimes of Shawn Merriman: there is danger associated with crime. Real danger. I see that now, thanks to the show that aired June 20, 2012. But back then, living the nightmare, I scoffed at the very thought of it.

From the moment my former husband revealed his crimes to me and to his victims (those who thought they were “investing” with him) authorities checked with me often regarding my safety and the safety of my children. They encouraged me to find some place else to go, to exist in (I can’t use the word “live” because we really weren’t “living” in those terrible months we were simply trying to survive them) in the months it took to investigate my former husband’s crimes, to build a federal case against him, to seize our assets and worldly possessions deemed of value and to accomplish every other task associated with the revelation of a Ponzi scheme. Besides, I didn’t have anywhere to go anyway. My parents were dead, I had children in school and I had no money. Where was I going to go?

So the authorities looked out for me. They called me frequently to ask, “How are you doing? Do you feel safe? Has anyone threatened you?” and other similar questions.

I always answered their questions by insisting that I was safe, that while my neighbors weren’t treating me or my children kindly (or even civilly) and were angry (rightfully so) about their losses, they were had always been good people and would never harm us physically…Yes, they broke into our house when they thought no one was home and inadvertently terrorized my teenage daughter who actually was there and heard them walking around, talking, looking in cupboards, trying to get any information about us they could including opening boxes I had packed to move and doing who knows what else—as my daughter hid in a dark corner of the room and prayed they would leave before they found her during their invasion of our property and privacy. And yes, three years later my youngest child is STILL afraid— of the dark, to brush his teeth alone, to be alone in a room without the light and white noise on or  to go anywhere without a light on because he’s terrified “bad people might be in our house.” But I never believed I needed to fear for our safety.

I was wrong.

Almost, but thankfully not, dead wrong. Which I only recently discovered while watching ”American Greed” and learned of at least one close call we avoided because a hostile victim came to his senses in time to prevent an additional tragedy. Lets just stay a loaded gun was apparently involved and leave it at that, shall we?

Moral of the story: I guess there are lots of them, but certainly one of them now includes the lesson that not only does crime NOT pay, but it brings with it danger, too. Dangers you can’t see. I now know I should have been less stubborn and more trusting of the authorities and their concerns (experts who were fearful for a very good reason.)

And thankfully, we’re safe—despite a very bad idea one angry man was able to repress and my prideful, stubborn streak that refused to run when I had nowhere to go.

 

Who’s Afraid of The Big, Bad…

Date: December 1, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just ask the Schwann man.

Winter Eventually Becomes Summer…If You Just Don’t Quit

Date: November 22, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

At times in my life I’ve lived through experiences that seemed to be “just like the movies,” for good and for bad.

Like the day Federal Agents drove up to my Colorado home for the first time, in their caravan of dark SUVs with dark tinted windows, and every agent got out of the vehicle they were riding in wearing dark sunglasses and navy blue jackets with “U.S. Marshalls” embroidered on the back. I remember standing at the front window of my home, watching their arrival scene that appeared to be straight out of Hollywood, wondering how it could possibly be my experience. It was completely surreal, yet unfortunately, real; real enough I was terrified.

But there was nothing I could do. I had to be there, I had nowhere else to go, so I simply had to endure it.

In reality, every agent was very nice and respectful. Although my fear never left me (it’s hard not to feel fearful when a bunch of government agents are in your home because you, and everyone else, have discovered the man you’ve been married to for almost 20 years has secretly been committing a crime to the tune of 14 years and 20 million dollars), I got through it.

Sometimes, that’s all you can do.

Get through it despite the fear and uncertainty. Face what you dread. And although it doesn’t make you feel particularly courageous when you’re afraid, I’ve learned that facing your fear and not quitting in its face, is courage in itself.

“I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.” (Nelson Mandela)

Some days, getting through the day without quitting means you’ve conquered fear. It’s courageous just to carry on. Even if things don’t turn out the way you hoped. To never quit is brave. To press forward is triumphant. And eventually, the fear goes away. Or you learn that you can survive experiences that are epically fear-inducing and come out just fine on the other side of them, with time.

I’m so glad I never quit, despite the many moments I wished I could have!

Because in those cold, dark moments of dread, indescribable fear, utter humiliation and hardship you’re tempted to think will never end, they do. Life goes on after them. And you learn things about yourself you never knew.

“In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.” (Albert Camus)

Summer has always been my favorite season.

The Unexpected Life We Call Halloween

Date: October 31, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Charlie Brown is the one person I identify with.  C.B. is such a loser.  He wasn’t even the star of his own Halloween special.” (Chris Rock)

Sometimes the unexpected life feels like Halloween.

You’re thrust into a situation that feels strangely akin to a nightmare. It’s dark. You’re afraid. You can’t figure out how you got there. You wonder how you’ll ever overcome all of the scary things that jump out at you around every corner. And the best part? You feel like such a loser.

I wish I had all of the secrets and answers to dealing with the unexpected life. A magic formula that takes the fear away, boosts self-esteem so no one feels like the loser I did and makes success despite the unexpected obstacles guaranteed. Unfortunately, I don’t think anything like that exists. If it did, there would be no unexpected life.

But here’s one thing that helped me: despite my unexpected life, I didn’t change my goals. I had to adjust my expectations regarding my starting point, how long it would take me to achieve them and I had to acknowledge I would be reaching my goals in entirely different ways; but I didn’t abandon them.

My mom taught me that. She said unexpected things happen, but you have to keep living and striving to reach your goals. For example, you might be a college student with a “scholarship” funded by your father–when he dies unexpectedly in an airplane crash and you lose not only your parent, but your source of advice, your biggest fan and your financial backing for everything. In the unexpected life, it’s vital that you don’t quit; you can’t abandon your goal. You just have to figure out new ways to achieve it. You sell your car, you get a job, you get a second job, you take as many credit hours as you possibly can and go to classes year-round to finish faster, you don’t take a vacation, you quit shopping; you do whatever it takes to graduate with your degree. (I promise, it will serve you well when the next phase of your unexpected life hits decades later! So NEVER abandon your goal.)

By not quitting, you are on the path to eventual greatness. “Greatness is not measured by what a man or woman accomplishes, but by the opposition he or she has overcome to reach his goals.” (Dorothy Height)

When my unexpected life hit last year, quitting wasn’t an option. As much as in some moments I felt like walking off into the sunset alone and dropping off the face of the earth, I couldn’t let myself do that. I knew what was expected of me, I knew the right response, I had children who needed me, I had my children to set an example for, so I had to carry on. My goals remained the same: raise a strong and united family; help my children grow to become law abiding (o.k., so I added that to my goals–I hadn’t considered any other course was an option prior to my ex-husband breaking the law!) productive, capable, self-reliant adults; educate my children; and achieve happiness, seeking to be happy all along the way. In other words, create a “happily ever after.”

Doing all of that can be difficult. Scary is an understatement. Some days you don’t know how it will be possible, how things will fall into place the way you need them to. In fact, sometimes they don’t, and you have additional challenges to overcome. But you press forward anyway, power through the hard stuff, try to smile along the way and hopefully, eventually, walk out into the light!

It’s no secret. Some moments all you can do is pray, seek to find something to be grateful for, “go to work” and endure the rest until you overcome.

But I promise it’s worth it.

Like the end of every episode of “Scooby Doo,” when the ghosts and monsters have been quashed and Fred, Daphne, Velma, Shaggy and Scooby are rolling down the highway in The Mystery Machine and everything’s groovy again, it will be that way again for you, too. One day you’ll have employment, a roof over your head, food on the table, you’ll see your children thriving despite everything and that they’ve learned important things that will serve them well the rest of their lives, that the smiles are real again and that you’re happy. Possibly happier and more content than you’ve ever been. (And if you’re lucky, maybe you’ll even have a Bachelor #5 or an Agent M to boot!)

Who knows? In the unexpected life, EVERYTHING is possible!

“Hold on, man.  We don’t go anywhere with “scary,” “spooky,” “haunted,” or “forbidden” in the title.”  (Scooby-Doo)

Except…in the unexpected life.

Shut Me Up!

Date: August 11, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I feel very adventurous. There are so many doors to be opened, and I’m not afraid to look behind them.” (Elizabeth Taylor)

The door opened and a woman stood there. I wasn’t quite sure who she could be. First, she was stunningly attractive; radiant and glowing. The type of woman that everyone notices when she walks into a room.

Second, she looked too young to be a mother of a woman my age. I wondered if I’d gone to the wrong house.

I didn’t know what to say. The woman and I stood looking at each other, not saying a word, for several seconds. All we could do was stare!

At about the same moment, we both spoke–almost the same thing: “Is it really you?”

We both laughed and said, “It’s really me!”

Her next question caught me off-guard. She asked, “Well, what do you think?”

Big mistake. I am a person who says what I think. I’ll tell you, honestly, what I’m thinking–especially if you ask me. And unfortunately, my thoughts are expressed pretty much without censorship.

Think about it. What would any sane, normal, sensible, classy, dignified (all of the things I someday hope to be) woman say in a moment like that? What should you say, for the first time, to the woman who gave you life? What should be the first words out of your mouth?

I’m sure everything you’re thinking is more appropriate than what I came up with, unexpectedly, on the spur of the moment! Here is what popped out of my mouth:

“What do I think? I am thinking you are one HOT woman!”

Did I really say that? Yes, I really did. No, “Thank you for giving me life,” or any other expression of thanks or love; apparently “HOT” is the best I can do in a moment like that. Somebody, please shut me up!

Although, “The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live,” (Flora Whittemore) I believe our words have an impact too.

I need to work on that.

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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