Veronica Vodka a.k.a. “The Other Woman”
November 26, 2018
It’s painful to watch what’s happening to my husband. Some days I still live in disbelief, clinging to the hope that he’ll bounce back that God will work a miracle and everything will change in an instant. But that hope is growing quieter. The reality feels heavier.
I’ve come to call Vodka “Veronica,” like she’s the other woman in his life because that’s exactly what it feels like. I catch myself wondering, What does he see in her? Why does he crave her so deeply? What about me isn’t enough? She’s like a tall, cool glass of water to him—refreshing, familiar, and irresistible. She’s seductive, adapting to whatever mood he’s in. She stays up late with him. She follows him everywhere. Every night, she’s there: quiet, smooth, and comforting. I know he thinks about her constantly. Even when they’re apart, she waits patiently. No matter the time, no matter what it costs, she’s always within reach. She doesn’t talk back. She never challenges him. She numbs his pain, erases his shame, and makes him feel powerful. With her, he never has to apologize. She never asks for anything except his loyalty. And he gives it to her, over and over again. To him, she’s freedom. No boundaries. No judgment. No consequences he can’t drink away. She helps him escape from the emotions he doesn’t want to face, the wounds he refuses to heal. She’s his refuge, his sanctuary.
The war that is raging inside him is like armwrestling, but with himself. The narcissist and the addiction are at war in him, and I fear the addict will win because the narcissist will never let him admit he had a problem. He’ll fight for her, protect her, and go to any length to make sure she’s never out of reach. If she’s empty, he’ll get more no matter the hour, the weather, or the risks. And if I dare to say anything about her, he defends her fiercely, even denies her existence. She’s untouchable, irreplaceable.
But Veronica isn’t cheap. She’s costing him everything our marriage, our peace, our future. And the scariest part? I think he’s willing to pay that price. If I gave him an ultimatum “me or her” I believe he’d choose her. Or worse, try to keep us both. She came into our lives quietly. But over time, she’s destroyed nearly everything. She’s stolen my husband, robbed my sons of their father, and cheated my grandbabies out of their “G.” He thinks she loves him but she’s here to destroy him. I’ve tried to kick her out, time and again. But she always finds her way back. And the day she took over, I lost him.
Living with him and Veronica is like living with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I loved Dr. Jekyll. But Veronica? She prefers Hyde. And lately, he’s the one who shows up more often meaner, louder, more volatile every time. When the drinking starts early, I brace myself. If it starts at noon, the nightmare begins early. If it starts at 6 p.m., it’s unpredictable. If it starts at 9, I might be spared the worst. Every night, I retreat to my room my safe space. I shut the door, layer up, and armor myself with sweatshirts, socks, an eye mask, and headphones. I try to drown it all out.
Some nights, I consider surrendering. Admitting defeat. Letting Veronica have him. I just pray she doesn’t kill him first. I keep myself busy to cope salon, gym, church, clients, the boys, their friends, and the grand babies. Running clears my mind and heart, if only for a while. It’s the only place I feel free.
When Dr. Jekyll lifts that first drink, Mr. Hyde isn’t far behind. And the damage is devastating. The names. The cruelty. The verbal beatdowns. I’ve been called every vile thing you can imagine. And the next day, I try to talk to the man I once loved only to be met with blank stares or total denial. It’s maddening. On the outside, I look put together. But inside, I’m crumbling. Beaten down. Lost. I feel like Alice spiraling through Wonderland—except this rabbit hole leads only to darkness. I started writing in a “Conflict Resolution” notebook a lifeline. A place to pour the truth, even if no one reads it. Especially him. It’s the only place I can scream silently and try to make sense of the chaos. And still, some tiny part of me hopes. Hopes he’ll wake up. Hopes he’ll choose me. Hopes love might win. But deep down, I know:
Veronica may have taken him, but she can’t have me. She doesn’t get to steal my voice, my peace, or my future. I’m still here. And I’m starting to believe I deserve more than being collateral damage in someone else’s war. Maybe the miracle I’ve been praying for… isn’t about him changing. Maybe the miracle is me.
Rachel! Xoxo