How Carrying the Message in My Daily Life Strengthens My Own Recovery

When I first heard people talk about carrying the message, I thought it only meant sponsoring someone or sharing my story at a meeting. I assumed it was something I would “do” once I was more experienced, once I had time, once I was qualified to teach others. What I didn’t realize then was that I was already carrying the message everywhere I went—sometimes silently, sometimes simply by showing up and living differently than I used to.

These days, I see that carrying the message isn’t just what happens inside a meeting room. It’s what happens when I go to work, the grocery store, or out to dinner. Every interaction is a chance to live by the AA principles that changed my life—honesty, humility, kindness, patience, and willingness. Whether I realize it or not, my attitude and behavior tell the story of recovery long before I ever open my mouth.

When I was drinking, I lived in extremes. I was either trying to impress people or pushing them away. I wanted to look like I had everything under control, even when I didn’t. My actions told a story of self-centered fear and resentment. Sobriety has been about rewriting that story—one quiet moment at a time.

Today, carrying the message happens in subtle, everyday ways. It’s when I choose honesty at work, even if it costs me something. It’s when I pause instead of reacting in anger. It’s when I show grace to someone who’s struggling, knowing that I’ve been there myself. I don’t need to quote the Big Book to live its lessons. Sometimes the most powerful example of recovery is the calm presence of someone who’s walking the spiritual path—imperfectly, but sincerely.

That’s the beauty of service in everyday life: it doesn’t have to be loud or formal. My Higher Power can use me in the checkout line just as easily as in a meeting. When I smile at a stranger, hold the door open, or simply treat people with patience, I’m sharing the hope that change is possible. Those small moments ripple out farther than I’ll ever know.

The Big Book tells us in Step 12 that we try to “practice these principles in all our affairs.” For a long time, I treated that like a suggestion for when things were going well. But what I’ve learned through this daily recovery practice is that it’s especially important when things aren’t going my way. When life gets busy, stressful, or uncomfortable, I can slip back into old habits—controlling, blaming, isolating. That’s when I need the Steps most. Living the 12 Steps in those moments keeps me grounded. When I pause before reacting, I’m practicing Step Ten. When I take a breath and ask for guidance instead of pushing my own will, I’m practicing Step Eleven. When I offer kindness instead of criticism, I’m practicing Step Twelve. I don’t have to “work” the program in separate compartments from the rest of my life. Recovery is life now. Carrying the message in my daily routine isn’t about preaching or pretending to be perfect—it’s about remembering that my behavior is a reflection of the grace I’ve received.

One of the biggest surprises in sobriety has been realizing how much carrying the message strengthens me. The more I live this way, the stronger my recovery becomes. It’s like a spiritual feedback loop—what I give away comes back multiplied. There are days I start out restless, fearful, or disconnected. Then someone crosses my path who needs help, or maybe just a smile. When I take a moment to be of service, the fear lifts. The restlessness fades. That’s no coincidence. My experience has shown me that self-centeredness is the root of my disease, and service in everyday life is the antidote. When I shift my focus outward, I feel God working through me.

This doesn’t mean I walk around trying to “fix” people. I’ve learned that’s not my job. My only job is to stay willing—to keep showing up with an open heart. Some days, that might mean answering a newcomer’s call. Other days, it might mean listening to a coworker who’s having a bad day. Every time I choose empathy over ego, I’m reminded that this new way of living really works.

The longer I stay sober, the more I realize that spiritual growth in sobriety isn’t a straight line—it’s a series of small awakenings that happen when I least expect them. Growth doesn’t always come from sitting in meditation or reading literature (though those things help). It often comes from how I handle life on life’s terms. I once thought recovery meant being serious all the time. But now I know it also means being available, lighthearted, and grateful. When people see that peace in me—the kind I never had before—they sometimes ask what changed. That’s when I get to tell the truth: it wasn’t me. It was a Power greater than myself working through the Steps, the fellowship, and simple acts of service.

And that’s how the message keeps carrying itself. I don’t have to push it. I just have to live it.

The Promises say that “we will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us.” I used to think that meant knowing what to say. Now I understand it’s more about how I behave—how I handle myself when no one’s watching. Whether I’m at work, in traffic, or out with my family, I try to remember that I represent more than just myself. I represent recovery. I represent hope. That’s a sacred responsibility, and it keeps me accountable. When I’m tempted to take the shortcut, lash out, or isolate, I think about the newcomer who might be watching from afar. Maybe they’ll see something different in me—not perfection, but peace—and realize they can have it too.

That quiet accountability strengthens my own sobriety tools. It keeps me honest, humble, and grateful. It reminds me that recovery isn’t something I do part-time. It’s a full-time way of living.

When I was drinking, I didn’t feel connected to anyone or anything. I was either pretending to belong or hiding from the world entirely. But today, when I live out the principles of AA in ordinary places, I feel connected everywhere. Every interaction is a chance to be useful, every day an opportunity to demonstrate grace. That’s how carrying the message in daily life strengthens me: it keeps me present, grounded, and aware that I’m part of something greater than myself. I’m not just staying sober—I’m participating in the flow of recovery that started long before me and will continue long after.

I may never know who notices, who’s helped, or who finds hope in seeing a changed life. But I do know this: when I live the message instead of just talking about it, I stay close to the Power that made recovery possible. And that’s the real gift—freedom through service, peace through practice, and connection through action.

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