The Best of Grapevine, Vols. 1,2,3. Группа авторов

I may suffer a slow burn for a few minutes after my date has pulled away just as I am courageously about to kiss her goodnight; even God turns me down more often now. But (and here is the miracle) I continue to try; I persist in the face of defeat. I can risk being rejected now, because I no longer have to feel resentful and depressed when it happens.

      Soon, I expect to celebrate my sixth AA birthday. Some of the people I will be with on that day will be those I found the courage to reach toward. I will be doing work that is interesting and fulfilling and came only after many setbacks. Most important, if my Higher Power points out that my desires do not happen to coincide with his will, I can accept gratefully and continue the great search a day at a time.

      V.C., Venice, Calif.

Ever Been on a Dry Drunk?

      April 1962

      After ten years of exposure to the AA program, I still experience that periodic phenomenon referred to as the “dry drunk.” To my own amazement and everlasting gratitude, the last seven of those years have been a period of uninterrupted sobriety. This fortunate condition has certainly been brought about by a Power infinitely greater than my puny capabilities. I believe that the times of the greatest danger of self-destruction during these years were those when I, consciously or otherwise, attempted egotistically to take over the reins of my life and tried to exercise total control over my own affairs.

      This usually resulted in a dry drunk. What is a dry drunk? The following description is based on a personal viewpoint, but is also supported by those ideas which I have heard expressed at many meetings.

      An alcoholic appears capable of emotional extremes ranging from feelings of unbounded elation to depths of dark despair. As an imperfect but perhaps helpful analogy, we might compare the personality of an alcoholic with a weather map: A dry drunk is an emotional storm. The emotions of an alcoholic can fluctuate much in the manner of weather fronts.

      When all seems to be comparatively well for the recovered alcoholic, his general feeling of well-being is like a “high-pressure” weather area. This is a large mass of cool, dry air, usually accompanied by clear, blue skies and lots of pleasant sunshine. As long as we try to carry the message to others, attend meetings regularly, and seek God’s guidance every day, we are frequently gifted with a sunny, love-filled spirit—our own inner high-pressure area.

      You know, of course, that the weather changes: day by day, little by little, the cool, stimulating air may be replaced by uncomfortable, oppressive, moisture-laden air. There develops a turbulence and confusion in the atmosphere, similar to the turbulence and confusion in the mental atmosphere of an alcoholic on a dry emotional jag.

      This is why we are cautioned against fatigue. Take a particularly difficult day with a sufficient number of negative events, mix in normal amounts of twentieth-century stress, give this dose to a fatigued alcoholic and you have a nice dry drunk in the making. Of course we can help it along by skipping lunch, rushing at a double-time pace all day long, and engaging in the doubtful luxury of such emotions as anger and worry.

      I learned that, in my own case, I was more likely to become irritable and confused toward the end of the work week, when accumulated tensions and lack of rest were at their worst. Things looked darker on Friday than they did on Monday morning. In time, I was able to realize that the things which seemed so important on Friday were really minor, and that such an outlook was due mostly to my failings and not to circumstances.

      We all realize that there are ways of modifying or preventing dry drunks. A dry drunk is basically an illustration that we have much progress to make in our application of the AA program.

      The antidote is contained in the Twelve Steps. We should seek ways to help other members—even a simple telephone call to inquire about a fellow member can shake us loose from our exaggerated self-concern. No one can express love and self-pity at the same moment; showing concern for others helps us to see how foolish we have been, how we have literally trapped ourselves in the familar mental “squirrel cage.”

      When nothing else avails, we can say, “Today I am sick.’’ Of course, this does not mean physically sick, but refers more to a spiritual disorder—a separateness from God as we understand him. During an emotional bender, the admission that we are powerless over our own rampant thoughts, and that our lives are even more unmanageable than usual, is an act which equates with Step One.

      I believe a dry drunk is a period of temporary insanity for the sober alcoholic. Step Two says: “Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.’’ A dry drunk is a self-imposed separation from others and from God. We try to run on our own current, like a battery without a generator, which soon runs down and becomes quite dead.

      Step Ten—the Step of continuing personal inventory—should certainly be emphasized following a dry drunk. We should attempt, in a spirit of humility and deep reflection, to see clearly where we were wrong. It helps to discuss these failures with other members, in order to crystalize our mistakes and prevent their recurrence. A series of unexpected conditions may have helped to bring about our emotional upheaval; this does not justify it, but only indicates that we are in definite need of further spiritual development.

      Perhaps, in the last analysis, a dry drunk is mostly a childish tantrum, an interval of immaturity, a regression to those frantic drinking days of self-will run riot. Nevertheless, it can still be a perilous period for the alcoholic struggling for recovery. I know that there have been dark days when a will infinitely greater than my own has been responsible for my sobriety.

      M.E., Dayton, Ohio

Those Depressions–Make Them Work for Good!

      August 1948

      Most of us have them, I guess—those depressions that attack us without warning and apparently without adequate cause. I am sure they are not limited to alcoholics; but for us, they are dangerous, much more dangerous than they are to the average nonalcoholic, for they induce a craving, not necessarily for liquor, but for the effect of liquor.

      I remember reading an article some time ago about mood cycles. I think it said that the mood swing for an average normal person took place in a matter of fourteen to eighteen days, as a rule. It advised us to keep track of our feelings—that is, if we wake up feeling unaccountably happy and go through the day in that frame of mind, mark it down on our calendar, and see how long it is until we have another such day. Do the same with the sad days.

      This might be an interesting experiment and prove helpful enough if it were not for the fact that our mood swings are wider than those of the average person. Our sad times are sadder; our happy periods, perhaps because we have gotten used to doing without them, cause an elation that is unrealistic and almost as dangerous to us as the depressions. We make plans that are out of all proportion to our abilities, at least without years of sustained effort.

      We are not too long on sustained effort, and when a few stabs in the direction of our goal, whatever it may be, don’t produce immediate results, we are prone to give the whole thing up.

      To make these violent changes in mood safe for ourselves, I think we will have to do something about them, turn them to account in some way. I wouldn’t know what to do about the elations except to pull ourselves down out of the clouds by main force and go out and do something active instead of daydreaming—do something that is within the realm of possibility and keep on doing it until we have accomplished something concrete. At such times, our self-confidence is high, and we are likely to do a good job.

      Our depressions vary in length and intensity—at least, mine do. Sometimes, they are deep indeed and last as long as a month. Sometimes, they are less severe, and I get over them in a few days. Dark or light, they are distressing, unproductive times, when life seems like a very dull business. Even AA loses its reality. I go to meetings and come away bored and dissatisfied. If it is a discussion meeting and I contribute any optimistic thought, I listen to myself cynically and think, ‘Why don’t we stop kidding ourselves? We’ll never really amount to anything. We missed our chance long