Praise for
Happily Ever After
“As a two-time cancer survivor and cofounder of the charity organization Grassroot Soccer, I know the undeniable value of gratitude. Whether you are giving or receiving, Happily Ever After shows us what I have come to accept as truth—in order to fully live a happy life, you must acknowledge the gifts that life has to offer and be thankful for all of them . . . big and small.”
—ETHAN ZOHN, 2002 winner of Survivor: Africa
“This book is a wonderful reminder that in everything we do we should give thanks. From the beautiful life-changers to the everyday little things to the struggles that break us down, EVERYTHING is a gift and it’s important for us to acknowledge that.”
—ALI LANDRY, mom, actress, and Miss USA 1996
“Happily Ever After is profound, passionate, and practical. These stories of gratitude will move, inspire, and touch you—you will not be able to live your life the same way.”
—LEE M. BROWER, Founder, Empowered Wealth, LC, Business Family Coach, author, speaker, and featured teacher on gratitude in the book and movie The Secret
“Trista is someone who exudes light and joy, and I’m grateful that she’s harnessed some of that for this uplifting, full-of-healthy-tidbits book about the importance and fun of having an optimistic view of the world. Thanks, Trista!”
—KIMBERLY WILLIAMS-PAISLEY, actress, director, writer, and mom
HAPPILY
EVER AFTER
TRISTA SUTTER
A MEMBER OF THE PERSEUS BOOKS GROUP
Copyright © 2013 by Trista Sutter
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For information, address Da Capo Press, 44 Farnsworth Street, 3rd Floor, Boston, MA 02210
Designed by Linda Mark
Set in 11.5 point ITC Usherwood Std by the Perseus Books Group
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Sutter, Trista.
Happily ever after : the life-changing power of a grateful heart / Trista Sutter.
pages cm
ISBN 978-0-7382-1666-9 (e-book)
1. Gratitude. 2. Happiness. 3. Women—Psychology. I. Title.
BF575.G68S98 2013
179'.9—dc23
2013025477
First Da Capo Press edition 2013
Published by Da Capo Press
A Member of the Perseus Books Group
www.dacapopress.com
Da Capo Press books are available at special discounts for bulk purchases in the US by corporations, institutions, and other organizations. For more information, please contact the Special Markets Department at the Perseus Books Group, 2300 Chestnut Street, Suite 200, Philadelphia, PA 19103, or call (800) 810-4145, ext. 5000, or e-mail [email protected].
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Happiness is the spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude.
—DENIS WAITLEY
Contents
INTRODUCTION:
Thank-You Notes Are Better Than Roses
CHAPTER 1:
A Conscious Choice
CHAPTER 2:
Feel GREATful: The Art of Appreciating and Nurturing Yourself
CHAPTER 3:
Love (and Appreciation) Will Keep Us Together
CHAPTER 4:
Tiny Humans with Big Hearts
CHAPTER 5:
All in the Extended Family
CHAPTER 6:
Thank You for Being a Friend
CHAPTER 7:
The Business of Being Happy
CHAPTER 8:
We Are All Connected
CHAPTER 9:
Unexpected Blessings
CHAPTER 10:
“Thank You” Is a Verb
THE FINAL ROSE:
My Thank-You Note to You
Resource-full
Acknowledgments
Thank-You Notes Are Better Than Roses
God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today.
Have you used one to say thank you?
——WILLIAM A. WARD
INTRODUCTION
BEFORE APPEARING ON THE BACHELOR I WAS A SINGLE girl living in the exciting world of South Florida. I had great friends, a supportive family, and two demanding jobs: I spent my days working as a pediatric physical therapist at Miami Children’s Hospital, and my nights rehearsing or performing as a Miami Heat dancer.
My schedule was full, and I was doing what I thought I loved, but I felt empty and bored. Then one night fate spoke to me through my television. I was watching the entertainment-news show Extra, trying to unwind after a long day at the hospital, when a Hollywood casting director came on to talk about a new reality show. I had been a fan of The Real World, but this new show wasn’t just a social experiment recorded for the world to see. It was about one guy getting to know twenty-five girls in the hope of finding a fiancée. That’s right . . . one guy, twenty-five girls. Obviously a little crazy, but when the casting director mentioned international travel and luxurious living quarters, I figured it would surely beat my lonely apartment.
As hockey great Wayne Gretzky once said, “You miss 100 percent of the shots you don’t take,” so I headed straight to my computer to type in the link that had flashed on the screen. What was the worst that could happen? If they rejected my application, I would just continue living in my unhappy rut, hoping to find a way out.
For a few weeks, I did just that. But then the casting people called asking for a video, photos, and eventually a face-to-face meeting. After a slew of interviews and tests, including blood work and incredibly long psychological exams, I got the news that they were actually interested in little ol’ me joining their upcoming adventure. They liked me. They really liked me. (Sorry—I’ve always loved Sally Field.) Now all that was left to do was ask for a leave of absence from the hospital (which was thoughtfully granted) and make sure I had everything I needed for a couple months away.
Going into it, I had no intention of falling in love with a stranger I would know for only six weeks and whom I would be sharing with twenty-four other ladies, but as the days passed, my mind-set changed. I got to know more and more about Alex Michel, and I liked what I learned. In real life, I would’ve done as I usually did: take it slow. But in this situation, there wasn’t a job to report to or basketball games to perform at, gossip sessions on the phone with my girlfriends, visits to the gym, or even couch time in front of the TV to take up my downtime. This relationship was my focus, and I actually quite enjoyed it.
In early 2002, I found myself visiting “fantasy suites,” taking helicopter rides, traveling to exotic destinations, and enjoying the glamorous world of professional hair and makeup. Alex was a good conversationalist, highly educated, nice-looking, and well traveled: all things I was looking for in a partner. It seemed as though we had similar values and goals, and I grew increasingly intrigued.
Two days before we were to tape the ending of the show, we had our last date. There was still one other girl left, and their time together was scheduled for the next evening. I wanted to know where I stood in comparison to her, so I asked him. Point-blank.
He told me that if he had to make a choice at that very moment, he would choose me. (Duh—what else was he going to say?)
I left that night with the utmost confidence that his feelings wouldn’t change, no matter what happened on his date wit
h the other remaining woman.
Two nights later, I walked down the pathway to the final rose ceremony. True, I had known this guy for only six weeks, but we had developed a real connection and I was fully prepared to get engaged. It wasn’t a joke to me. It wasn’t a way to launch my acting career or a new business. It was my life.
Standing across from Alex, I listened intently to the words that came out of his mouth. He started out by telling me how much he enjoyed our time together. Then there was a pause. I thought it was a lead-up to a proposal, but boy, was I ever wrong! Instead, he told me that our story was coming to an end, and that he was sorry.
Dagger to the heart, and on national television! I was destroyed. The crew filmed me and my tears in what would become a classic Bachelor scene: the runner-up crying her eyes out in the back of the exiting limo, signifying the end to their reality show journey.
“I’m okay,” I said. “I’m just sad.”
I soon realized that I didn’t believe my own words.
Back in my hotel room, I wallowed in my sadness. Everything had been taken away from me—or so I thought. I had no idea that the universe was setting me up for what would be the most incredible, enriching experience of my life. What I thought was a loss was a total gain, but I couldn’t see anything through the tears.
In real life, you get to say good-bye. On the show, you aren’t stopped from doing so, but once your fate is announced, you are whooshed away before you’ve had a chance to process what has just happened. Six weeks of your life and—poof—it’s over.
I had gone to LA for an adventure and ended up with a broken heart. It wasn’t fun, but it was wonderfully motivating. I knew more than ever before what kind of person I was looking for and what kind of person I had become. I had enjoyed the glitz of my new existence but, deep down, I yearned for something much simpler but so much harder to find: my own happy family.
For the next three months, the footage was edited and a series was created. Contractually bound by confidentiality, I had to keep my friends and family in the dark and return to life as I knew it before I met Alex Michel. It’s amazing how much happier life can be when you gain some perspective.
As my past life played out on national television, I watched every week with my friends and family and found myself gradually getting over the heartache. On the night of the finale, I tuned in along with a gaggle of my friends, at a special viewing party. That night my cell phone rang. It was Mike Fleiss, the executive producer. He wanted to know if I would be interested in the chance to turn the tables and become the first Bachelorette.
I didn’t hesitate. “Seriously?! Sign me up!”
With the ABC television network at the helm of my search for love, I knew I would be drastically improving my odds. After all, people were being paid to scour the country to find guys who fit my “type.” I didn’t have that kind of time and, buried in student loans, I certainly didn’t have that kind of money.
So I asked for another leave of absence and when that was politely refused, I said good-bye to the PT department at Miami Children’s Hospital and set sail for the West Coast … a spot I had always dreamed of calling home.
While I worked out the legalities with the production company’s powers that be, I hit the gym, met new friends, and waited for the day I would stand in front of my mansion-away-from-home, hearing host Chris Harrison say, “Let the journey begin.” October 10, 2002, was that day.
In a long, black Carmen Marc Valvo dress and a more than ten-carat diamond necklace bigger than my earlobe, I was introduced to twenty-five charming bachelors. One of them was a stunner who was so thoroughly outside of his comfort zone that he forgot to tell me his name. But after I heard it for the first time, I would never forget it: Ryan Sutter. He stepped out of the limo and told me I looked “ravishing.” I couldn’t remember a time that I had even heard that word in a sentence, but it sounded so romantic and genuine, and I bought it—hook, line, and sinker. His crystal-blue eyes, firefighter résumé, NFL muscles, and the poem he handed me during our first solo chat didn’t hurt his cause either. For the next six weeks, he continued to stand out among the crowd, a crowd of eligible men who had left their homes and jobs to test the relationship waters with me.
With cameras following our every move, I got to know as much as I could about each of the men who had signed up to join me on this crazy ride. Ryan had been a front-runner since the first night, but after holding that position myself for much of the journey I shared with Alex Michel and then getting the rug pulled out from underneath me, I decided to keep my heart as open as I possibly could and not make a final decision until the very end.
I fully immersed myself in the search for love. I hoped to find someone who made me laugh and had a strong family bond. Someone who wanted to create babies out of our love and show the world what it meant to be a good father. Someone who made me feel special and safe and full of fluttering butterflies. Someone who was kind, honorable, trustworthy, and athletic. Someone I couldn’t stop thinking about no matter whom I was with or what I was doing or where I was in my travels.
After narrowing down the playing field week after week, I couldn’t deny the inevitable. I had told myself before I started that I wanted to walk off into the sunset with a man I couldn’t live without. At the end of the six weeks, I got all that and more.
On the night of the final rose ceremony, I said good-bye to Charlie, the only other man remaining, and waited patiently for Ryan to arrive. I was on a platform surrounded by candles and flowers, but all I could think about was the gorgeousness of the man I had completely and utterly fallen for. I will never forget the intensity of the smile that took over my face when Ryan started walking down the stairs toward me. It was happiness in its purest form, and not only because he brought me such joy, but because I could finally reveal the depth of my love to the man who had captured my heart.
I had worked very hard to keep my feelings to myself, constantly worrying that if I shared them with Ryan they might change, just as Alex’s had for me on the final day taping The Bachelor nine months earlier. I had wanted to protect Ryan from that kind of pain, but soon found out that I had been unintentionally torturing him in another way: through ambiguity.
From about the fourth week of the process, he continually confessed his developing love for me. I tried to show him through my actions that I felt the same, but he needed more and I didn’t know how much until it was almost too late. Thank goodness I didn’t know at the time, but the day I was to reveal my final decision, Ryan disappeared. He had hit a wall of frustration and decided to quiet his mind away from prying producers and the chaos of the show. He made his way to a neighboring hotel and tried to get some clarity poolside. As someone who has been in those very shoes, I don’t blame him for one millisecond. The good news is that he showed up when it mattered most—when I could finally tell him that I had fallen for him.
During the rose ceremony, I asked to hold his hands and took a big, deep breath before saying what I’d been keeping hidden in my heart:
Ryan, this day is a day I have dreamt about my entire life. Since I was a little girl, I’ve had visions of a man who I could see my future with, but someone whose face was always blurred. Until now. Now, I not only see his face, but I see a future of dreams come true. I see smiles and laughter. I see babies and grandbabies. I see comfort and safety. I see a white dress and I see it with you.
He interrupted, “You do?” with a big smile on his face. Then he let me finish pouring out my thoughts.
You’ve stepped out of my dreams and into my world, and I want to thank you for standing by my side when I couldn’t give you any verbal reciprocation of your feelings. But my walls have finally crumbled and I can now tell you without reservation that I’m in love with you. I hope with all my heart that you feel the same and that you want to spend the rest of your life with me, as I do with you.
I can’t help but giggle when I replay that moment in my mind, because he was so ready for me to st
op talking. (Things haven’t changed much.)
After asking if I was done and giving me one of the kisses that had made me fall in love with him, he said:
I started down this road hoping for love, and I think I was only able to make it to the end because I found it. You were my strength. You were my inspiration. You were the breath of my voice and there’s a place in my heart, a space now that only you can fill. Trista, I love you with every ounce of who I am and offer you my hand and my heart and soul and my love forever, if you’ll have it.
So, Trista Nicole Rehn, will you marry me?
I can’t remember how many times I said yes (although I know it’s on a dusty VHS tape somewhere out there), but I did . . . over and over again. My fairy tale, or at least its beginning, had finally come true.
We were engaged on November 11, 2002, and after a grueling three months apart (to conceal our happy ending from the public and the media), we were ecstatic to start our life together—a life of true reality, not one that included an entourage of cameramen and producers.
I’ve been around for more than forty years and I am certain that happily ever after isn’t always glamorous. It has nothing to do with whether you can afford or fit into a dress right off the runway. It isn’t based on how many times you’ve had your hair and makeup done, what you get paid (or not) to do with your time, how many square feet your house is, or the number of invitations you’ve had to talk to Larry King, Diane Sawyer, Barbara Walters, or Ellen DeGeneres.
Away from the cameras, away from the spotlight . . . everything was different. I can’t tell you what happened to Cinderella and her prince after their fairy-tale ending, but in the case of Ryan and me, happily ever after was about building a home and a family and a peaceful life together. Our off-camera lifestyle now includes a daily balancing act of work and play, a house in need of constant tidying, bills to pay, mail to open, kids needing Mommy and Daddy, a dog who could probably use a bath and some belly rubs, and a marriage that needs just as much attention, if not more, than everything else on my long list of things to do.
Happily Ever After: The Life-Changing Power of a Grateful Heart Page 1