Living Happily Ever After
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Even On July 13

Date: July 13, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If you wish to forget anything on the spot, make a note that this thing is to be remembered.” (Edgar Allan Poe)

Two years ago today, July 13, 2009, I thought my world had ended.

As I drove from Colorado to begin a new life in Utah (crying as discreetly as possible so my children wouldn’t realize tears were uncontrollably rolling down my cheeks), I could not comprehend ever healing or feeling whole again. I anticipated that date, July 13, would be burned in my memory forever and would always haunt me, as a day of personal infamy, never to be forgotten.

Cut to 2011.

A few days ago I realized (only because my middle child reminded me) that July 13 was approaching. I marveled at the healing that has taken place in just two years. I can’t believe all that has transpired in my life and in the lives of my children since 2009. We’re living a completely different, yet still unexpected, life. And honestly, this isn’t a painful date any more.

But I decided I needed to at least attempt to give it the respect I had once thought it deserved, to remember it and to mark the occasion by doing SOMETHING, so I made a plan to dispose of the dead hanging basket of flowers previously mentioned today—July 13.

This morning I got up, went to work, had a lunch meeting, worked all day, came home, did some work from home, enjoyed my children, made dinner, ate dinner with my family, sent #5 off to rehearsal for Sundance Resort’s summer theater production of “The Sound of Music,” and on my way back into the house happened to notice the basket of dead flowers hanging on the front porch. It brought me to a screeching halt. July 13!

Today was once THE day! I was supposed to have remembered it, wasn’t I? I had a plan to carry out! And here it was, almost 6 p.m., before I even remembered today. Just two years from the day I thought my world had ended, and already, I have completely forgotten July 13!

But never let it be said I don’t follow through with my plans. I asked my oldest son to throw the basket in the outside trashcan, he grabbed it and went to toss it out, and I turned around and went back into the house without a second glance or another thought.

How did it happen? How is it possible to have suffered such tremendous loss, to have endured such devastation and grief, only to forget such a landmark date just two years later?

I think it’s one bonus of not just living the unexpected life, but choosing to embrace your unexpected life.

Accept what you’ve been dealt. Take stock of what you’re left with. Use it to rebuild. Count your blessings. Laugh. Choose to find happiness and joy in your new realm. And guess what? You will. Each and every time. If it happened to me, it can happen to you. I know it. And then at some point, you realize the pain is gone. If you hang on long enough, choose to let go of it and focus on your new blessings, at some point, the pain is gone.

“My focus is to forget the pain of life. Forget the pain, mock the pain, reduce it. And laugh.” (Jim Carrey)

Even on July 13.

It’s Grand

Date: December 23, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“A man begins cutting his wisdom teeth the first time he bites off more than he can chew.” (Herb Caen)

Sometimes we bite off more than we can chew through choices we make and sometimes we’re thrust into overwhelming situations through no choice of our own that can leave our jaws flapping! That’s the unexpected life, regardless of how it comes. But I can’t emphasize this aspect enough: if we handle it right, we gain valuable life experience, we learn important lessons and we increase in wisdom. And we can do great things with what we’ve learned.

Like Walt Disney, who rose above his own setbacks to create a magical legacy and impact millions even after he was gone: “All the adversity I’ve had in my life, all my troubles and obstacles, have strengthened me… You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you.” (Walt Disney)

Speaking of wisdom and teeth, my daughter had her’s removed a few days ago. Prior to her surgery, the oral surgeon walked into the room, looked at me and asked, “You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”

I replied, “No.”

He looked puzzled, stared at me and said, “Really? You look so familiar. I am trying to figure out where I’ve seen you. I’m just sure I have met you before.”

I joked that I have blonde hair, blue eyes and we live in the state of Utah where it seems like the majority of the state’s residents look like I do, so no surprise that I look familiar. He laughed and walked out of the room to get what he needed to begin the procedure on my daughter. When the door closed, I realized how far we’ve come…and yet how some things haven’t changed much.

When the door clicked shut, the first words out of my daughter’s mouth were, “Mom! You’ve GOT to be kidding me! Don’t tell me you dated HIM too?” (That’s the part that hasn’t changed!)

Yet I realized how far we’ve come when it dawned on me after the doctor had left the room (and after I had defended myself against my daughter’s accusation—and for the record, NO, I did not date that doctor!) that when he commented that I looked familiar, I didn’t cringe; I didn’t inwardly cower in fear that he might have seen me in the media, connected to a crime I had no part of (other than that I happened to be married to the man who perpetrated the crime.) Honestly, and surprisingly, for maybe the first time in my unexpected life, that hadn’t even crossed my mind—it was almost as if I’d forgotten about it and hadn’t even realized I’d forgotten, that’s how natural the process of forgetting, aka. healing, has become.  I was sure I seemed familiar to him because I live in a state where a large percentage of the population descends from Scandinavian immigrants!

Apparently, I’ve developed something. Unexpected amnesia, occasionally, regarding the trauma that led to my unexpected life. I anticipate as we move further and further from 2009, I’ll forget what led to my new opportunities more and more. As Robert Louis Stevenson said, “I’ve a grand memory for forgetting.”

And isn’t THAT grand?

Ring Shopping Part II

Date: September 19, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

It’s funny, the things you forget.

I remember when I had my 4th child, I was a lot more laid back in my preparations for him than I had been for my 1st, 2nd and even my 3rd children! About two weeks before he was due, I looked at my daughter and said, “We’d better get to the store and get some things we need before the baby comes!” She and I got to share in the fun of buying the things we’d need for a baby. We did it in one store, in one shopping trip, and when we got home and had hauled everything in, I was ready.

I had everything I needed for the new arrival. It was my 4th child, I knew what I was doing and after the shopping trip felt completely prepared. Until my daughter, in 5th grade at the time, looked at me and asked, “But Mom, if you have a baby don’t you need…diapers?” I had COMPLETELY forgotten about diapers!

That’s a little how I was with the whole willingness to marry Bachelor #5 thing.

I had finally told him it was time, but I had forgotten, completely, about the engagement/wedding ring portion of the ritual. When Bachelor #5 mentioned it, reminded me about it, I honestly believed I didn’t need a ring. I didn’t want one.

Divorce devastates many people, financially, and I didn’t want to add to anyone’s financial burden. Plus, I’d had a ring the first time I was married. I’d worn it and put my heart, soul, life, love and the finest of all of my efforts into my marriage and my husband, had thought he was doing the same and that we were close to blissfully on track for eternity–and it had ended. Unexpectedly. The icing on the cake of that failure was that not only did the marriage end, but the government took my wedding ring away because it was an “upgrade” (not the original wedding ring) when they seized the assets we’d acquired due to my ex-husband’s participation in a Ponzi scheme.

I didn’t want or need another ring.

But Bachelor #5 insisted. I told him to just go get anything and I’d be fine with it. But Bachelor #5 didn’t want me to “be fine” with it. He wanted me to love my ring, and said he wouldn’t have a clue what I would like or want without my input, and patiently endured the first ring shopping experience in which the only thing I decided was that I hate ring shopping…and I didn’t want a diamond ring.

“We do not know what we want, but we are ready to bite somebody to get it” (Will Rogers)

Ask Bachelor #5. I wasn’t the friendliest, most eager customer the poor sales clerk at the first jewelry store had ever tried to sell a ring to. In less than 10 minutes, in fact, I’m pretty sure it may have been less than five minutes, he stepped away and brought out the big gun: the store manager. An experienced woman. She calmly took over. And I came to a decision.

I wanted a band.

“As good as I am, I’m nothing without my band.” (Steven Tyler)

A Message

Date: August 7, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Did you ever walk into a room and forget why you walked in? I think that’s how dogs spend their lives” (Sue Murphy)

That’s how I’ve spent quite a few moments of my life.

I forget about things sometimes. Sometimes, even important things. That impulsive act of attempting to contact my birth mother, believe it or not, was no different.

Impulsively, I had done something huge; I sent a message to my birth mother and then…I pretty much forgot about it. (Either that, or such is the life of a single mother, the sole parent and support of four children, working full-time, busy, and tending to homework, housework, never-ending laundry, keeping track of the bills, and everything else. It’s easy to forget things.)

And then just as I’d forgotten about what I’d done a few weeks earlier, I got an unexpected message from Facebook:

“Oh my gosh! Are you who I think you are?”

My birth mother.

I NEVER expected that.

The message couldn’t have been more friendly, loving, and willing to share information. My birth mother even gave me her phone number and encouraged me to call. She was absolutely friendly and nice and welcoming!

I was stunned.

It was completely unexpected.

I had been prepared so well my entire life for rejection that I was shocked at not being rejected!