Living Happily Ever After
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The Speech Continued: ‘P’ is for Plan

Date: March 9, 2014  Author: Andrea Merriman

P: Plan

When I was a teenager, my dad was killed in an airplane crash. I remember thinking it was the absolute worst thing in the world that could ever happen. My mom (ever one to look on the bright side–if you find my optimism offensive, blame her!) consoled me by saying, “But at least we love him and he loved us and he’s still part of our family. It would have been so much worse if he’d betrayed or abandoned us.” (So that pretty much established in my mind that the absolute worst thing that could ever happen was a husband and father who betrayed his family.)

As a teen, and as a result of my dad’s death, we also lost our home and money. Which helped create my greatest fear: to ever lose my home for any reason.

And for some reason, I was also terrified to ever be responsible for another human being by myself. For that reason, I hadn’t had children until after my husband and I had graduated from college and he was firmly established in a successful career.

And then my unexpected life hit.

My unexpected life is 100% comprised of my worst fears and biggest nightmares: husband betrays wife, loss of home, loss of money, and just another person to be responsible for–FOUR CHILDREN TO PROVIDE FOR AND RAISE! Hmm…isn’t that interesting?

On the bright side, there IS something “freeing” in having your worst fears realized. I can’t think of anything that embarrasses me, or that I’m afraid of, any more!

JK Rowling once said, “I was set free because my greatest fear had been realized, and I still had a daughter I adored, I had an old typewriter and I had a big idea. Rock bottom became a solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life.”

Rock bottom IS a solid foundation on which to rebuild.

Again, plan what you CAN do, fix or change.

Never settle for less than a happy ending for yourself.

And when one avenue you think my be your new happily ever after turns into a brick wall, course correct and carry on again until you have it.

Never allow yourself  to lay down and die, figuratively or otherwise, as much as you might want to sometimes. Quitting doesn’t get you to happily ever after. Never has, never will.

Sitting (or Standing, as the Case May Be!) Happy

Date: October 20, 2013  Author: Andrea Merriman

“But I learned that there’s a certain character that can be built from embarrassing yourself endlessly. If you can sit happy with embarrassment, there’s not much else that can really get to ya.” (Christian Bale)

What happened next is kind of…perfect; completely fitting for a first return to the state I’d left four years ago in total shock, grief, fear (even though I tried my best not to fear) and yes, complete humiliation.

First stop after DIA was to a restaurant for dinner.

As we drove, I was surprised to feel so calm and normal. I must have expected to feel the last feelings I’d had in Colorado (shock, grief, devastation, horror) or even worse, at this stage of life, to feel homesick for the city, state and life I’d loved so much (knowing that chapter of my life has closed and a permanent return to Colorado will never be a possibility) or worst of all, to feel like I didn’t belong there any more. I mean, Colorado had been my home since 1974. I was terrified to feel out of place there because if I didn’t feel I belonged in my home state, where would I EVER belong?

We had a nice dinner and at the end of dinner, I stood up to leave and instantly felt a freezing cold blast across my…nether-regions, looked down to determine why I suddenly felt so cold, only to see my maxi skirt puddled on the floor!

There I stood in a restaurant, on a Friday night, wearing–from the waist down– only my underclothing! I quickly bent down, pulled my skirt on again, and exited the restaurant!

Believe it or not, I could not stop laughing.

Leave it to my unexpected life to come full circle in the most unexpected of ways: depart in embarrassment, humiliation and mortification and  the VERY FIRST THING that happens to me upon my return most would consider embarrassing. (Except, I realized, me. As I’ve said before, it’s pretty difficult to be too embarrassed about anything given the “embarrassment”–revelation of crime, loss of everything, demise of family, divorce, and all of it played out on a very public stage– I’ve lived through! Haha)

Consider me filled with character. And sitting happy with it all. In my unexpected life.

Who EVER could have imagined that?

Not even optimistic, filled-with-hope, determined-to-create-and-live-a-happily-ever-after, little old me!

Love and…Kittens

Date: March 4, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“There would be no passion in this world if we never had to fight for what we love.” (Susie Switzer)

Before remarrying, my husband and I attended premarital counseling. I’ve documented some of the issues and challenges the premarital counselor warned us remarriage would present and that the counselor was right! But how grateful I am to be married to a man who, with each and every challenge each and every time, grabs my hand, looks into my eyes, tells me he’s “in it for the long haul,” quickly and humbly seeks to find a solution we both can live with, and then always adds how much easier our life and marriage is than other remarriages he knows and how much better everything is than he expected! (You’ve got to love his optimism among every other wonderful thing about him.)

So although he says we’ve never had a fight and that he has never (yet—haha!) been truly mad at me, we have had a few “differences of opinion” (that’s what my husband calls them) during the course of our dating, engagement and marriage. Second marriage moment #30? The realization that life, and marriage, is full of challenges to overcome—but there is always a way around or through each one. You’ve just got to be willing to take that first step toward conquering it and don’t stop until you’ve beat it.

And just as there seems to be no shortage of things to conquer in life AND marriage, ”No matter how much cats fight, there always seem to be plenty of kittens.” (Abraham Lincoln) Never give up.

#26: The Learning Curve Extends

Date: November 10, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Well, I screwed it up real good, didn’t I?” (Richard M. Nixon)

Statistics don’t favor second marriages. I never understood that–until I entered into one myself.  I learned a lot about what I assume must be the basis for such statistical pessimism.

I had never stopped to think about the fact that in remarriage, not only are you dealing with every usual marriage adjustment and challenge (like blending two lives, personalities, hobbies, interests, cultures, goals, expectations, finances, careers, challenges and everything else that goes along with marriage), but you are also dealing with two different previous families and their histories and experiences, two very different family cultures, all of the children of those families PLUS… former spouses.

Wow.

Hard to comprehend what all of that means until it’s yours; until it happens to you. Lets just say that despite the marital bliss of your remarriage, it is a lot to deal with and occasionally can seem like more than you ever bargained for!

So what do you do?

Well, like every other aspect of the unexpected life, you deal with it. Laugh about some of it, work toward a happy ending, never give up, and of course, look on the bright side at every opportunity.

My husband is great at that. I remember the night we were discussing (and trying to laugh about) some things and he pointed out an unexpected bright spot: “Actually, we’re pretty lucky compared to other couples. We only have to deal with one former spouse. Can you imagine if we had to deal with two, and at the same time, in addition to everything else?” (I confess I never saw that one coming! While I am grateful prisons protect us from people who have chosen to break the laws of society, in 2009, I never imagined ANY “bright spot” to incarceration. But apparently, there is one! LOL.)

Second marriage moment #26. (I had to shake my head and laugh at that one.)

“Being here feels like I’m out of prison. This is the right place, the right time, the right team.” (Shaquille O’Neal)

Garden Report 2011

Date: August 29, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

Neighbors have begun sharing the bounty from their gardens. My co-workers are bringing their home-grown produce for lunch. Looks like it’s time for a report on my attempt at gardening this year. (Note the foreshadowing.)

Of the four almost two-year-old fruit trees I began the growing season with…two were chopped down by my youngest and his friend wielding toy swords. The third tree, loaded with approximately 30 little apples when I left on vacation earlier in the summer, was stripped bare 10 days later when I arrived home. (No sign or trace anywhere that there had once been the hope of fruit. I don’t know if little neighbor boys, birds or some other force of nature deserve the credit!) The fourth tree currently has 5 small nectarines clinging to two of its delicate branches; my husband is considering offering our youngest a cash reward if the fruit is allowed to remain there until it ripens!

The surviving peony bush (one of three hauled to Utah in orange Home Depot buckets from my Colorado yard in 2009 and transplanted in my Utah yard shortly after my arrival) still hasn’t bloomed. It has now been two years. I cut it some slack last year, wondering if perhaps it was still in shock at the upheaval and turmoil it had endured (I could SO relate!), but no fluffy pink flowers yet.

Of the flowers purchased by me and my husband at a local nursery earlier this year, the hanging basket (as I reported earlier) died within weeks; the rest were planted in three different pots and placed on the front porch. One pot died within a month, one is half dead, and the last bunch, though struggling terribly, is still hanging on.

Our pumpkin plants grew huge, beautiful leaves and approximately 75 blossoms (more blossoms than I’ve ever seen on anything.) The bounteous green vines are mounding and spreading…yielding, so far, two small light orange pumpkins and one tiny green one!

The zuchini starts we planted never did anything—in fact, they look about the same as when we bought them. The 8 tomato plants are all still alive, although two never blossomed or grew anything, one we harvested 4 small tomatoes from and the rest appear to be loaded with green tomatoes. Of the 6-7 lettuce plants, we made salad out of 3 of them before the rest died.

You know, life is like a garden. Some years, the growing conditions are easy-breezy; other years are more challenging. Some years plants thrive. Some years, not much appears to survive. The point is to keep watering and weeding, acknowledge every bit of growth or progress and to never quit planting. Always make the best of the plot you’re blessed with.

“I want it said of me by those who knew me best, that I always plucked a thistle and planted a flower where I thought a flower would grow.” (Abraham Lincoln)

A Mixture of Pleasure and Pain

Date: May 23, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“This moment in time, on this tour, you know, I’m discovering a lot of new things. And to be 45 and doing that, it’s a mixture of pleasure and pain, I can assure you.” (Eric Clapton)

I’m not 45 years old, but this week marks my three-month wedding anniversary; cause to reflect on my current “tour,” remarriage, and to evaluate my experience thus far–as in where we’ve been and where we’re headed.

I remember back to the “good old days” of being engaged. I don’t know how it all came across in the blog, but the reality of it was not 9 1/2 months of bliss, carefree romance and starry eyes and nights despite the many great moments we shared. In actuality, it was the majority of  one year spent getting to know one another even better, preparing to unite not just ourselves but our families, and of challenges, confronting issues and resolving them–and when you’re talking remarriage, you’re dealing with all of the aforementioned stuff to an even greater degree than a first marriage. In fact, there was so much to work through, #5 used to joke that marriage would be easy compared to being engaged and that there was nothing we wouldn’t know about one another by the time we got married.

I think I thought #5 meant being married would be “easier” and with less to work through than our engagement and that because we knew each other so well, there wouldn’t be any surprises or a period of adjustment to one another after our wedding. (You know, for being this old and somewhat experienced in life and marriage–having been married 20 years to someone else prior to marrying #5–you’d think I’d be a lot brighter than I am!) But boy, was I wrong.

I realized, again, that you never truly know someone until you live with them and in life, and especially the remarriage aspect of the unexpected one, it seems like there is always something to work through or resolve!

I’m a hopeless romantic. (I’ll confess that right here and now in case that has happened to escape the attention of anyone reading this blog.) I went into remarriage with my usual rose-colored optimism and romantic ideals of perfection.  And while my remarriage is wonderful, there have been a few moments of challenge (if I’m being honest.) Moments spent in resolving issues. And the truth, in my experience and based on what I’ve learned from premarital counselors and others who have lived through or are living through the remarriage experience, is that approximately 80% of issues, conflict, and anything else that needs to be worked out can usually be related directly to money, children and/or former spouses. (Which shouldn’t be THAT surprising, since statistics show most first marriage difficulties arise over money and children, too.)

One day, in the middle of an “issue resolution” I joked that despite all the premarital counselor had tried to prepare me for, remarriage was a lot more difficult than I’d anticipated. That stopped #5 in his tracks. He looked at me in all seriousness and said, “Really? I thought it was going to be a LOT worse than this! I thought it was going to be much harder than this! I’m actually amazed at how well everything is going and how few problems we have compared to what I expected.”

That stopped ME in MY tracks. I was stunned. “Wait, you thought it was going to be WORSE than this…and you married me anyway?” I asked.

“Absolutely, and I’d do it again,” he clarified.

THAT sums up the remarriage experience for me, as well as the unexpected life.

It can be a stretch to feel like an old dog learning new tricks in your 40s. A mixture of pain, growing pains, as you learn and grow through the new opportunities you’re blessed with as well as plenty of pleasure, like when your new husband tells you, despite the challenges, issues and the work required to resolve them, that it’s even better than he expected, that he loves you and that he’d do it all over again. For you.

Second marriage moment #12.

“Forever can never be long enough for me, To feel like I’ve had long enough with you…Marry Me, Today and Every day, Marry Me…say you will.” (Train, “Marry Me”)

I love it when #5 hums, sings, says that or plays it for me on XM Radio “The Coffee House” channel.

The Unexpected Life.

You Can Call Me

Date: March 4, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“It’s strange but true. Fat chance and slim chance mean the same thing.”

When my unexpected life began, and in the real world, there were probably many (myself included, on occasion) that believed the reality of a wonderful life ever working out for me again was a slim chance or a fat one. However, the beauty of an unexpected life is that it does work out. With enough faith, hope, hard work, optimism, endurance and some miracles, in fact, it always does. Every time.

Another highlight of my engagement, for me, took place shortly after the driveway conversation with my youngest and the neighbor boy. One day I received the following email from #5:  ”Hey, Just wanted to let you know that last night in the car Jake asked if he could call me Dad. I told him he could call me anything he wanted–Dad, Fatty, Mike…Later he called me Mike, but at least he knows that it will be ok.”

Things were changing in our unexpected life; they were definitely looking up. Mr. Awesome was proving himself truly awesome time and again, but there were still a few unusual conversations ahead. Especially those that involved a four-year-old.

“The difficulty with this conversation is that it’s very different from most of the ones I’ve had of late. Which, as I explained, have mostly been with trees.” (Douglas Adams)


Weather

Date: December 30, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

I was born in a land of palm trees (California) in the summertime and I’ve always loved warmth. Count me absolutely willing to live in a climate that doesn’t snow, yet I have lived most of my life in climates that snow. (My mom loved the change of seasons, so our family eventually settled in Colorado; my first husband hated hot weather and loved autumn so I lived in Colorado as an adult, too.) I guess you don’t always get to choose the environment you have the opportunity to bloom in.

Lately I’ve experienced not just cold, but some very unusual winter weather. Sure, Utah’s had snow, but I’ve been amazed at the rain! SO MUCH rain. The other day I walked out my front door to a giant puddle of slush (literally) that was my front yard. Today everything is icy—the trunk of my car is frozen shut, I can scrape ice off the inside of my car windows and the ground is icy underneath fresh snow. You never know what you’re going to get for weather in the Rocky Mountains.

Kind of like life.

“Weather is a great metaphor for life. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad, and there’s nothing much you can do about it but carry an umbrella.” (Terri Guillemets) The umbrella of optimism and a positive attitude, to be exact.

I’ve learned for myself that every life, every difficulty, every type of “weather,” has it’s own unique opportunities.

“Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather.” (John Ruskin)

It’s all in how you choose to look at it. And it’s about what you do with it—what you choose to create out of the challenges you’re blessed to weather in your unexpected life.

“Climate is what we expect, weather is what we get.” (Mark Twain)

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.

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