How AA Reacts When You Decide To Leave. What AA Says When You Quit.
- chphurst
- Nov 22
- 7 min read
According to my medical source, WebMD, a dry drunk is a term that was coined by Alcoholics Anonymous for someone who has quit drinking but hasn’t dealt with the issues that led to the addiction in the first place. They refer to it as a state of “white knuckling,” right on the edge and substitution of the addiction of alcohol for other destructive addictions. Many toxic personality traits develop with this dry drunk syndrome including anxiety, mood swings and bitter resentment of those who intervened to get you sober.
Oh my. According to the critics of The Anti AA Concept, I’ve been a dry drunk for seventeen years. I had no idea. I’ve been living in this awful state of dry drunkenness for almost two decades. I don’t know how I’ve been making it. But luckily the critics also state that the rooms will be there when I relapse. I’ve only got a few decades left on this terrain so I guess I’ll just sit on the edge of that rolling wagon until fate takes me and I inevitably fall off.
I can’t tell you how many times I have been named a victim of this dry drunk syndrome from those few who actually remain sober long term in Alcoholics Anonymous yet can’t seem to ever detach from AA to simply go on with their lives. The outcry is largely the same as one who leaves a fundamentalist church whose pastor yells on his way out the door that you were never a real Christian or when your life falls to shambles, we’ll be here. Largely in the same realm as the intelligent rebuttal of not uh issued from the mouth of a five-year-old.
But in fairness, I did a self-assessment. After all, maybe I do have dry drunk syndrome and had it all these years, which will happen if you don’t bind yourself to a lifelong contract of attendance and belief to the mantras of AA.
First symptom of the dry drunk is wanting to be the center of attention. Well, not really. I am mostly retired and keep to myself living in foreign lands. I am extremely selective of who I let into my inner circle and probably wouldn’t be going out of my way to gain this attention from others. So far so good.
And the list continues on. Feeling like you are always the victim. Hmmm . . . I can’t say I suffer from this one either. I was half retired by fifty and at fifty-seven am largely completely retired from being a physical therapist. I am in great physical shape and have all sorts of time to pursue these social media type of endeavors. So, no, I pretty much feel unbelievably blessed by the universe, especially while living in third world countries where one can witness real victims just by walking to the grocery store.
Having trouble communicating with people. Well, I can’t have that one. When I do contract in the realm of physical therapy, I have to communicate effectively every day. As a matter of fact, I have to be really good at it. I have no fear of public speaking and have given minor seminars on various physical therapy topics so I think I am ok here.
Mood swings that range from depression to extreme happiness. Well, yeah, when I was drinking heavily this was true. I had depression about eighty to ninety percent of the time. But see, AA, I started my emotional recovery program of meditation, Tai chi and yoga on top of my fitness routine. I would say I have a depressive personality. And I have mostly resolved it with clean diet, fitness and the activities above. The last time I measured my depression it was seven percent of the time in this early retirement. So, I’m going to give this symptom a hard no.
Fear that you can’t change. But I did change. I got in incredible shape, eat well, minimize caffeine, lost the cigarettes and holistically re-created my entire being. I even wrote a book for others on how to reinvent Self. So, nope, I don’t have this one, AA.
Anger and resentment toward family and friends who intervened with my drinking. No one did. You see, AA, I understood that the only person who can change my life is myself. I never bought into surrendering to a higher power. I asked it for strength but shook hands with the giant Magic Elf that the burden was on my shoulders. I had to choose if I would walk with it or not. And I’m pretty pleased with myself, actually, that I decided to continue to carry it on the trail.
Frustration over time wasted with alcohol abuse. Not really, AA. Hell, two self-help books came out of my thirteen years of alcoholism. The rest is a journey. Sometimes the trail is level and smooth and other times it is uphill through jagged rocks. And sometimes you wander off the trail altogether. It is all part of life so no, AA, I don’t cry over that long-dried milk I spilled decades ago.
Believing that sobriety is boring. What? Sobriety has less drama by leaps and bounds but boring? Not at all. Again, I work out two out of every three days and engage in my emotional mind workout with activities already mentioned. I explore the world. Since my sobriety I have hiked the 2,660 mile Pacific Crest Trail. I trained in my long-time art of Muay Thai kickboxing for an extended period—in Thailand. I have visited all the castles and temples in Prague, Ukraine, Cambodia and other Asian countries. I smoked a Tough Mudder—when I was forty-six. I wrote five books. I learned to invest in the stock market, long and short term and continue to have financial freedom because of this endeavor. I learned Spanish and am currently learning Tagalog as at this writing I am in the Philippines. In two weeks, I’m going to go on a multiday trip to their beach in Argao and see the waterfalls. I’ll also walk up a few volcanoes and visit a Taoist temple. If I do take the periodic contract, it will be in Alaska on one of the islands in the southeast, where I’ll spend the off hours climbing mountains, walking across glaciers and gazing at fjords. Uh, no, I’m not bored at all, AA.
Romanticizing past alcoholic life. Um . . . no. It’s a part of my life that was fun at times, bad at others but always revolved around chaos. It’s in the past. I am not an addict any longer and that life is buried deep in the history books.
Not acknowledging the problems substance abuse caused. Seriously, AA? The whole reason I quit is because I did acknowledge all those problems my alcoholism caused. What kind of screwed up logic is that coming from the rooms?
Feeling jealous of those who are showing signs of a healthy recovery. Actually, I am doing the opposite as well as a few others in the social media world, who are rescuing people from the cult of AA. You see, AA, your rooms aren’t healthy. Not physically and definitely not emotionally. Regurgitating your past is horrible for your self-esteem. I am certainly not jealous of anyone in your rooms. And I love it when I hear about others who turned their life around after giving up the addiction and reinventing themselves as I did.
Believing you always know what is best. I know what is best for me. And I can make a pretty fair assessment of the Alcoholics Anonymous program by your eighty percent failure rate. I don’t have to say your program doesn’t work. The data says it for me. And the idea that you can’t ever leave if you are in that minority group that does abstain from alcohol long term? That is absurd, plain and simple.
Refusing to accept constructive criticism. I don’t acknowledge any criticism from anyone who propagates a failed program. I don’t acknowledge input from people who live in negativity and are not taking care of themselves physically and emotionally. I learn from others who are advancing themselves as I am. Those who pursue excellence. That is the input I acknowledge. I accept constructive criticism—just not from an AA member.
Do you know why Alcoholics Anonymous members call me a dry drunk in the comments? Because it infuriates them that someone can reinvent his life without their help. It angers them that I take the air right out of their hot balloon. They see someone who doesn’t go to meetings, never did one single step of their twelve, won’t listen to their mantras and then publicly calls them out on the massive failure rate that their program earns every day and they become enraged. Then they throw out the typical standard clichés in which cults are known to utter. They know deep down their lives are in disarray. They know they are afraid to live without the shackle of AA that was placed on them the first weeks of their sobriety.
Look at my life, AA. I am healthy and in a state of great physical shape at fifty-seven. I have side interests that keep me busy in my very early retirement. Actually, I have the world at my feet and captain my own ship. And it really bothers you, AA member, that I did it all without one ounce of input from your rooms.
It is up to you to decide what your life is going to resemble once you break the friendship with John Barleycorn. I suggest not spending it in the toxic program of Alcoholics Anonymous. They keep calling me a dry drunk. If that is true, then I advise everyone to pursue the dry drunk life as since I quit alcohol, my life has been nothing but fantastic.
And to reinvent all of your planes to progress forward check out:
John Barleycorn: taken from Jack London's memoir of his alcoholism. John Barleycorn: First published, 1913
Comments