Introduction, One piece of paper
I taught myself how to start a gas grill at 56 years old. The saying "You can't teach an old dog new tricks" comes to mind. Or, as my Mother would often also recite regarding the unbelievable, "They shoot horses, don't they?". My mantra- "I can fucking do this!". Which, by the way, enables one to accomplish almost anything after surviving domestic violence. "One", meaning me. I am a Survivor of 15 years of domestic violence and narcissistic abuse.
As an Ex-wife, Mother, Grandmother, Life coach, Performer and Survivor, I can tell you that none of these titles define "me" daily. I am just me, Amy "Fabulous" Lechelt. The one thing I do know for sure is that I will be presented daily with a bevy of sliding glass doors and the changing of my fashionable hats at a moment's notice. Yes, there are days when the door appears locked with no key, even bolted shut, but that's for another chapter. No matter, somehow I have managed to find that shiny key to this thing we called "life", time and time again, if with nothing more than sheer willpower and courage (and a wonderfully understanding French locksmith, neighbor, and landlord).
First and foremost, I will not fail, or rather- give up on myself. What would this possibly achieve except more self-pity and victimhood, which is never a long-term successful game-player in this gloriously ridiculous life! Don't misunderstand, I'm not saying I haven't had to stop from crying uncontrollably and throwing myself into a fit of disappointment or fear (maybe, insert here- cheese fries, disgusting cigarettes, and well, wine!). After all, we are all perfectly imperfect human beings. In allowing for that understanding, I have learned that my imperfections, mistakes, choices, and misfortunes have taught me exactly what I needed to propel forward and become a survivor. Even if I wished in moments, as I lit another death stick or reached for another bottle of a jammy Sangiovese, that I didn't need that one more "life lesson". I am reminded of that "one thin mint" sketch from Monty Python. I hate to disappoint, but the fact is- none of us will explode, nor implode.
Thus, full circle, getting back to the gas grill. I remember this balmy Chicago summer eve like it was yesterday. I wanted to bbq salmon by myself. It was during the first summer after I left my perpetrator, haunted by lingering thoughts of how I could muster up the courage to successfully throw myself into the river, just below that grill that was now staring at me on my balcony. Thankfully, my sanity, still somewhat intact, took control, and I thought - "I'm gonna figure out how to light this damn grill." So, with seasoned salmon on the counter, I screamed out my mantra! Possibly my dog, Vino, may have been a bit startled by my exclamation?! No matter, guess what I found? There were instructions on that ugly burnt orange bbq grill that my ex and I won in a raffle that I had decided I must keep. That is until I sold it. Bygones! I somehow still find it amazing that these days, even if there are no handy instructions to be found, I can find empowerment simply by going to The Google! Mmm…delicious salmon and asparagus perfectly BBQ'd by ME!
This lesson was just one of the many smaller lessons I have learned over the past four years as a newly single woman "of a certain age", sans Ex, "Harry Basta". One of the biggest lessons was how co-dependency could be debilitating, even destructive, to oneself-when not aware of it. For me, I had been crossing that damaged bridge almost my entire life. Until one day, it collapsed. My co-dependency and lack of self-worth was the perfect invitation for my choice of husbands (Yup, you read correctly- plural.) Not to mention the fear of leaving my ex-perpetrator, Harry. It was the perfect playground for a narcissist. Okay, here we go… let's ignite the BBQ, shall we?! What the burning hell, why limit myself to a blog when I can write a book?!
