Ask A.J. is Slate’s advice column on addiction, recovery, and how to hate yourself less. Submit a question here. It’s anonymous!
Dear A.J.,
What helps you with your “emotional sobriety”? I’ve found not drinking to be relatively easy (after bingeing and blacking out on booze for 20 years), but dealing with life without pouring whiskey all over my feelings—that’s been a challenge. How do you not become a “dry drunk”?
—Can’t Stop the Music
Dear Can’t Stop,
This is a question that plagues so many newly sober people who have put down their booze but have traded it for constant agitation and world-weariness. Before we start, let’s get some traditional interpretations for both “emotional sobriety” and “dry drunk” that will not require readers to power through the 12-Step Program in the next five minutes to understand this column.
Bill Wilson, the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous, coined the term emotional sobriety, which, in simple terms, can be defined as inner peace. After many years without a drink, Wilson experienced a bout of depression which almost drove him to a disastrous relapse. Then he wrote Emotional Sobriety: The Next Frontier, which, in my opinion, is the one piece of AA literature that is the most valuable to nonalcoholic civilians.
Now, dry drunk is a term that I believe people are more familiar with. It’s a way to describe an alcoholic who may no longer drink but still exhibits noxious and destructive behavior. What’s the point of not drinking if all your friends and family find you an insufferable dickhead and no longer want to hang around with you? It’s a puzzle, for sure.
In order to deal with life without pouring whiskey all over your feelings, you have to—have to—stick with your routine of things that make you feel like a good, balanced person. Ideally, you do all the sometimes-sort-of-boring maintenance stuff before things get out of whack. I believe the best way to avoid drunk dryness is by attending AA meetings, doing the steps, sponsoring, etc. If you commit to a 12-Step program and do it the way you’re supposed to, you’ll likely keep your worst instincts in check. If not AA, you need some kind of practice that keeps you grounded, and on top of that, you need to take care of your physical self. I know that when I haven’t been to an AA meeting or the gym or when my sleep is off or I’m eating cheesecake for dinner, it’s probably too late.
Then, from there, it’s only a matter of time before my emotional sobriety is in the toilet. Here are some patterns of behavior that are always surefire signs I’m completely off.
Yes, I’ve kicked that little droid monster across the kitchen floor. Not proud of it—and I do not recommend it, as those things are deceptively heavy.
And once I’m violent toward the Robovac, I know there’s a good chance I will embarrass myself by acting truly horrid toward a human being soon after that. I mean, I won’t kick anyone, but I can definitely end some friendships when I’m in that mode.
You probably have your own version of these warning signs. When you start seeing them, the key to avoiding overload is to do some game planning. First, let’s identify all the things that may activate your discomfort: the way your boss blatantly undermines you on Zoom calls in front of your co-workers, your mother-in-law’s opinions about your parenting, the exorbitant cost of Oasis tickets even though they don’t change their set list—whatever it may be.
That way, you’ll know when you’re headed into a situation that could potentially cause the worst version of you to show up and wreck the place. And if you do practice the 12 Steps, remind yourself that if you act out, you’re destined to have to make amends if you take something too far. (If you don’t practice the 12 Steps, well, you probably don’t want to have to explain to HR why you yelled on a Zoom call either.)
Then, you have to recenter, before/after heading into one of those challenging situations. For me, the best things that slow down my brain and keep me grounded are pretty simple and obvious: meditation, Brazilian jujitsu, and long walks with a weighted vest on. (I know—don’t judge.) When I’m consistent with those, I’m softer and more considerate of others. But exercise, mindfulness, putting your phone down and playing with your dog, whatever you like to do—those tools are there for you at any time. You can always choose to turn to them instead of acting out.
The other cooling-off method I like is popular in Buddhism, found in nearly every Pema Chödrön greatest hits compilation. Whenever you feel hatred, replace it with love. (This is also a popular refrain from the St. Francis prayer, which is a fantastic decompressive go-to at boiling point.) If you’re going to go that route, you must make sure it’s genuine and not in that condescending Southern aristocratic bless-his-heart way, because that attitude leaves a heavy weight on your soul as well.
Here’s a great prayer I’ve learned over the years that, when I’m on my A game, I begin my mornings with and carry with me throughout the day: “Let your thoughts be my thoughts, let your words be my words, let your actions be my actions.”
The word your in the prayer doesn’t necessarily have to refer to God or a higher power. Still, it does have to be whatever brings out the best version of you—the most rational version of you. It’s crucial that you can flip the switch over to that version of you as quickly as you can to the worst version. Stopping drinking is only the beginning here; the most challenging part is not letting your drunk escape. But I think you know this already. Just put the extra effort into reminding yourself of it every day.
