It's as though I feel even more dejected because she wasn't even your typical "other" woman.
It wasn't as though I'd never been around an alcoholic in my lifetime. My grandfather became one when he became elderly. At least I think he "became" one, maybe he was born a dry-alcoholic until his elderly years.
In any case, I had experienced "alcoholic-family-disfunction" and was well versed in the 12-step program and the process of addiction.
So, imagine my shock when, after a few years of marriage, I recognized that I had married an alcoholic. Further, and I'm going to slip-this-in-here: This wasn't the first time I had been in an alcoholic love relationship.
I was destroyed, AGAIN. I loved so many things about this man and wanted him to realize his problem and get help.
So, I decided before I was going to walk away forever, I'd give our relationship one last chance by going to visit him as well as his family.
His family and friends in his hometown are extremely important to him and an integral part of his life. But, what an eye-opener for me! At every family or friend gathering (dinner, card game, board game, watching football) there was MUCH alcohol involved.
In fact, from my perspective, drinking was the main event at all of these functions. I even watched one of his family members drink so much that I felt empathetic nauseousness.
The realization that alcohol was such a large part of him and his culture, lifestyle and purpose for living KNOCKED-ME-UPSIDE-THE-HEAD. He and many members of family and friends were afflicted with alcoholism. He was in denial and so, probably, I divorced him.
But now, I'm really struggling with the grief of the loss of love and of what (when I let my imagination run away) could have been. I am trying so hard to just sit and watch my grief and gain wisdom and strength through this absolutely SAD and torturous experience.
Rationally, I know the grief will soften. But this process is incredibly painful, and the stabbing blow of being in yet another alcoholic relationship tears at my self worth and has me wondering about my mental capacity for making partner choices.
It's as though I feel more dejected because she wasn't even your typical "other" woman. She was worse! Her name was BOURBON.