What “Creating the Fellowship You Crave” Really Means in Recovery

When I first came into AA fellowship, I thought just being there was enough to make me feel connected. I figured the sense of belonging would happen automatically — that somehow, by sitting in a room full of sober people, I’d instantly feel part of the group. But that wasn’t my experience at all.

Even after I stopped drinking, that old feeling of being different didn’t magically disappear. I still caught myself thinking I didn’t belong, even surrounded by people who said the same things I used to think in the dark. I’d sit quietly, nodding along, but on the inside, I was still that same awkward kid trying to figure out how to fit in.

Before I got sober, I had no idea what real friendship in recovery looked like. My life was full of what the Big Book calls “a host of fair-weather friends.” Those people weren’t bad people, but those friendships were shallow at best. We were all using each other to feel something — excitement, escape, distraction — anything but real connection. The truth is, they weren’t adding anything to my life, and I wasn’t adding anything to theirs. The whole thing was built on a lie: that as long as we were laughing, drinking, and getting into trouble together, it meant we cared about each other. But once the fun stopped, so did the friendships.

When I finally put the bottle down, I learned that the kind of fellowship I’d been chasing didn’t exist in that old life. The people I drank with disappeared, and for a while, that left a painful gap. I didn’t know how to make friends without alcohol doing the talking for me. I’d go to meetings, sit in the back, listen, and hope someone would come talk to me. But fellowship doesn’t work that way. You can’t sit back and wait for belonging to find you.

Eventually, someone told me, “If you want to feel part of, start acting like you’re part of.” It sounded simple, but it took time to understand what that meant. I started helping put chairs away after meetings. I said hello to the person sitting alone, even when I felt uncomfortable. I got to meetings early just to talk to people, even if it was small talk about the weather or traffic. It was awkward at first — I didn’t know how to do normal conversation without a drink in my hand — but over time, something started to shift.

I began to realize that building relationships in AA happens outside of meetings too. I’d go to dinner with a few guys after a meeting or grab coffee on a Saturday morning. Sometimes we’d hang out at someone’s house and watch a game or a movie. I remember the first time I laughed so hard at something a sober friend said that my stomach hurt — that kind of laughter I used to think only existed in bars. That’s when I started to get it: this is what it means to create the fellowship you crave.

On page 164 of Alcoholics Anonymous, it says, “See to it that your relationship with Him is right, and great events will come to pass for you and countless others.” That’s not just about spirituality — it’s about connection. When I put my relationship with my Higher Power first, I naturally start showing up differently for other people. I’m less focused on what I’m getting from them and more on what I can bring. And the funny thing is, when I focus on giving, I end up feeling more connected than I ever did when I was trying to take.

The program teaches that real AA fellowship isn’t about socializing — it’s about spiritual action. It’s built on honesty, service, and shared purpose. When I’m carrying the message, reaching out to a newcomer, or simply being there for someone having a rough day, that’s when I feel most alive. It’s not because I’m doing something big; it’s because I’m no longer alone in the struggle.

Over time, I started to see what true friendship in recovery looks like. These weren’t people who only wanted to hang out when things were good — these were friends who would show up when life fell apart. They were people who told me the truth even when I didn’t want to hear it. They prayed for me when I didn’t know how to pray for myself. They helped me move, listened when I was angry, and sat with me when I didn’t have the words to explain what was wrong. That kind of friendship is rare, and it’s the kind of AA community the Big Book promises when we live by spiritual principles.

When I think back on the life I had before recovery, the difference is night and day. Back then, everything revolved around taking — taking attention, taking comfort, taking escape. Today, it’s about giving — giving time, listening, showing up. Somewhere along the way, that shift happened, and it wasn’t because I suddenly became more social. It was because I finally stopped trying to control how people saw me and started trying to be useful instead.

Fellowship is God’s way of reminding me that I’m not meant to do life alone. Every time I reach out, whether it’s a phone call, a coffee, or just asking someone how they’re really doing, I’m participating in something sacred. That’s how we keep the lifeline of recovery alive — one honest connection at a time.

If you’re struggling to feel part of AA, don’t wait for the fellowship to find you. Create the fellowship you crave. Start small. Ask someone to grab coffee. Volunteer to make coffee. Sit next to someone new. That’s how it begins. The fellowship you crave is waiting to be built through action, not waiting.

Today, I’m surrounded by people who truly know me — not the version I tried to sell the world when I was drinking, but the real me. I wouldn’t trade that for anything. What I have now is deeper than friendship; it’s family.

There’s lots of AA meetings available to attend in-person or virtually. If you’re struggling with drinking, seek out the help you need, you can’t do it on your own. I know I couldn’t do it on my own and still can’t.

Find a sponsor that will take you through the steps as outlined in the book. You’ll see more of the truth about who you are and eventually it’ll change your life.

Change Your Truth, Change Your Life.

Haler Smith