Living Happily Ever After
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Ad-libbing to the Max: The Unexpected Life

Date: June 20, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“If life is just a stage, then we are all running around ad-libbing, with absolutely no clue what the plot is. Maybe that’s why we don’t know whether it’s a comedy or tragedy.” Bill Watterson

Three years ago, I lost the life I’d known and loved for most of my adult life and was thrust into a life I never expected.

The life I live today is different in every respect from the one I lost. Sometimes, this far into it all, it feels like the previous life, the fallout and the consequences my children and I have endured as a result of the Ponzi scheme perpetrated by my former husband happened to someone else—in someone else’s life. Sometimes, it hardly feels real anymore. And then, sometimes, things happen that remind me all of it was all too real!

As if the life I now live isn’t proof enough, occasionally I find myself on television. Tonight, it will be national television. “American Greed” on MSNBC, to be specific; an episode featuring my ex-husband dubbed by others as “The Mormon Madoff.” While some of the interview based on our experiences focused on the tragic aspects of the unexpected revelations of Shawn Merriman, I did my best to find a few comedic moments as well (to laugh is sometimes the only way to get through tragedy of unexpected proportions). And of course, living and enduring through all of it, has required I “ad-lib to the max.”

What do you do when your life ends in one moment and you find out everything is gone? What do you do when you discover your husband of 20 years, the man you have known and loved most of your adult life, has been living a double life and deceiving you, your children and the rest of the world? What do you do when you find yourself the sole parent and support of four children? What do you do when government agents enter your home and seize everything of value that you once thought was yours? What do you do when…?

You pick yourself up and carry on. You teach your children not just how to survive tragedy, but to triumph. (A life skill they’ll need throughout their lives.) You look for the good in what you’re left with and smile (although it takes some time before the smiles become real again.) And you rebuild, out of the ashes, something even better than you had before.

The Unexpected Life.

And while I have no idea of the content of tonight’s show, that’s what I hope shines through in my life and in the words of this blog. Because every life, no matter what happens, is worth living. That’s just one more thing my unexpected life has taught me.

On Stage

Date: May 18, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“You are never so alone as when you are ill on stage. The most nightmarish feeling in the world is suddenly to feel like throwing up in front of four thousand people.”  (Judy Garland)

The next adventure of my business trip occurred shortly after my impressive vocal solo performed backstage for Donny Osmond. It actually took place while he was onstage. When I joined him in the spotlight! (Unfortunately, it wasn’t because of what you might think.)

In the middle of his performance, a few women from the audience joined him onstage. When the first few made it to him, I watched light dawn in the minds of many women in the auditorium. The room began to look like one of those gopher arcade games—where creatures pop up at various intervals, at various locations, and you have to bop them on the head to score. Each woman appeared to be heading to the stage to get close to Donny! I looked around me and started feeling sick to my stomach. I’d been to an autograph signing with Donny and I’d seen firsthand not only how much women love him but how out-of-hand things can get without the proper control (and security.) I knew somebody had to do something. I sat there for a few seconds more, observing women here and there, leaving their seats and heading for the stage and not really sure of what to do, but frantic to prevent a situation that could become out of control. So…I joined them!

As I climbed the steps to the stage and walked out into the spotlight, I felt sick. “I am NOT doing this. I cannot believe I have to do this. What am I doing? Why in the world am I going onstage in the middle of a Donny Osmond performance?” But I did it anyway (someone had to) and began directing the adoring female fans back to their seats. Donny was attempting to do the same and must have seen me out of the corner of his eye and thought I was one of the fans because as I directed the last one back toward her seat and prepared to follow her back to mine, he grabbed my arm, looked like he was ready to tell me to take my seat, but instead realized who I was and said, “Oh, it’s YOU!” and with relief, continued the show.

I returned to my seat and cringed at the unexpected adventure I’d just had. Disaster averted. The story of the time I joined Donny Osmond onstage—in the middle of a performance—and lived to tell about it. (I’m sure if I’d had to sing, the outcome would have been drastically different. I’ll leave the performing to Donny…and Marie.)

“If you take my performance or my understanding of the role and my appreciation for story…I guess becomes an action film.” (Vin Diesel)

Detours

Date: March 24, 2012  Author: Andrea Merriman

“When you come to a roadblock, take a detour.” (Barbara Bush)

In conjunction with my Las Vegas business trip, I was asked to speak at our corporate event there regarding the philanthropic effort of our company (one of the areas I manage.)

Service is something I’ve always been passionate about, particularly since there were moments upon entering my unexpected life I wasn’t sure how my children and I would have survived without a little help from our friends (and even some strangers) who delivered food to us, made meals for us, gave us cash, sent gift cards, left a thoughtful treats on the porch, wrote notes of encouragement, smiled at us (when it felt like nobody was), made my first Mother’s Day post-Ponzi scheme not just bearable but beautiful and joyful, tended my children while I attended to the details of wrapping up a life…I can’t even list all the ways we were blessed by (and continue to be blessed) by service from others!

For that and many reasons, I was happy to do it and was grateful for the opportunity to talk about making a difference in the world. I am certainly the grateful beneficiary of so many people who have had an influence for good in my life.

I was thankful to do it, that is, until they announced my name, I walked out into the glare of the lights, on stage…and faced over 4,000 people! That’s a pretty big crowd. I don’t think I’d ever spoken to more than a crowd of 1,200 or so people prior to that in my life! Whew! In moments like that, it’s nice to have a monitor prompting you (reminding you) what you had planned to say before your mind went blank at the sight of so many people.

However, despite the emptiness of thought I temporarily experienced, I did have the presence of mind to think this, like I have so many times: “If someone had told me in 2009 that THIS was an experience that would be coming to me just a few years later and courtesy of my unexpected life, I’d never have believed them! Like the Ponzi scheme my former husband perpetrated, I never saw it coming.”

There is a LOT of good in my new life. SO MUCH happiness and joy. So many unexpected opportunities I’d never have had. Tender mercies I’d never have known. Things I may never have learned and certainly things I’d never have known I was capable of surviving, much less doing and accomplishing. I realized something:

I’m grateful for the detours.

“…Believe in your destiny; that you will succeed, you will meet a lot of rejection and it is not always a straight path, there will be detours – so enjoy the view.” (Michael York)

It’s a pretty nice view in the unexpected life. How’s yours?

“Because I’m Worth It” (Loreal, 1967)

Date: July 26, 2011  Author: Andrea Merriman

“Whenever I don’t have to wear makeup, it’s a good day.” (Cameron Diaz)

The other night I was in the bathroom, removing my makeup, getting ready for bed. About the time I entered the raccoon stage—big black circles of eye makeup and mascara mixed with Vaseline (I’m an 80s girl, what can I say? And it’s less expensive than professional makeup remover from Mac, Clinique or any other department store makeup counter), my husband walked in.

He asked, “Do you have any of those makeup remover ‘sheets’?”

I assumed he saw the archaic yet inexpensive makeup removal system I was using and was suggesting I splurge on something better. I clarified, “You mean the little towelettes that come pre-moistened? I’ve used them before, but they’re expensive; not a part of the budget in my new life.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I know they’re more expensive but…”

I assumed he was telling me he thinks I’m worth the extra few dollars said product would cost. But instantly, in that moment, just as I began to get swept away by the romance of my new husband’s caring and concern for even my makeup removal, and before I could respond, he lifted his hair back, showed me his forehead and said, ” I mean, look at this! I tried to take it off, but it doesn’t come off easily. Those towelettes work really well.”

Stage makeup.

For the theater production he’s in this summer at Sundance  resort in Utah.

“The Sound of Music.”

It opens this Friday, July 29.

I gave him some of what I was using, and we both stood at the counter, together, and removed our makeup as we talked about the day.

Second marriage moment #20. Standing in front of the mirror, removing my makeup, while my husband did the same!

I never EVER expected that one.

“I mean, look, I wear makeup in films. I don’t wear makeup in real life. It’s just part of the gig, that’s all.” (Bruce Willis)

Really. At least I’m pretty sure that’s the message my husband would want me to share with the world should I reveal (as I have) that he sometimes wears makeup because, “not everyone is as liberal-minded as you are,” he says.

Speaking of liberals and conservatives, and politics in general, here’s a good one: “The reason there are so few female politicians is that it is too much trouble to put makeup on two faces.” (Maureen Murphy)

The Glamor of Performing

Date: December 16, 2010  Author: Andrea Merriman

“I don’t enjoy public performances and being up on a stage. I don’t enjoy the glamour. Like tonight, I am up on stage and my feet hurt.” (Barbra Streisand)

Speaking of the public performances on a stage, tonight I had the opportunity to attend the Christmas program at my youngest child’s preschool. I had high expectations—it was the last such program of my last child, and last year’s program had been a bust. (I had been recently divorced, was new to the area, was completely reeling from the shock of so much life change in such a short amount of time, was REALLY feeling my aloneness and was, of course, all alone at my son’s Christmas program.

But I went and tried to make the best of it. He was dressed festively, I had the video camera ready, I was doing a pretty good job ignoring the fact that everyone in attendance seemed to be married and there with family…there was just one problem. My son wanted nothing to do with performing on stage. He left the stage before the first number was even over, cried, wandered around the room and eventually out of the room, during the performance. I was disappointed, mortified, stressed out and a host of other emotions.

As the sole and single parent of four children, there is never enough of me to go around. If I attend one child’s function, I miss another child’s activity. Every time. And last year, apparently for nothing, I missed one of my other children’s events to let the youngest have his experience. Too bad it was a bust.

I’d NEVER had a child pull something like that! But I cut my 4-year-old some slack and blamed it on all of the trauma he’d lived through in his little life and we carried on.

Cut to 2010.  I anticipated a VERY different experience at this year’s program. I wasn’t alone, Bachelor #5 went to great lengths to join us. My son was a year older and a year past the trauma. (The only thing the same as last year was that to support my youngest’s performance, I had to miss my daughter’s winter dance concert at her high school.)

We arrived early. My son marched up to the stage, found his seat and acted happy to be there. He tried on all of his costume props. He helped the teachers. And then, before the performance even began, he was already finished and ready to go home. In fact, he left the stage to tell me that. And I advised him to return to his seat because we were there for his performance.

He returned to his seat, and less than two minutes later was back. This time, with a medical excuse. “Mom, I just threw up in my mouth. We need to go home.”

I knew he wasn’t sick, so I instructed him to return to the stage. He moaned, cried, fussed, complained…and left the room right as the performance began. He wouldn’t come back, so after watching half of the program (without my son’s participation) we  finally left.

What a performance. A bust—two years in a row!

In all my years of child raising, I’ve never encountered a child like my youngest.

“Before I got married I had six theories about bringing up children; now I have six children, and no theories.” (John Wilmot)

The bright side? At least he was wearing underwear.

“Simper ubi sub ubi.” (“Always wear underwear,” Andrew Rdings)

But that’s a blogpost for another day.