When I first heard the phrase “give it away to keep it,” I nodded along like I understood it. It sounded right. It sounded wise. It sounded like one of those things you’re supposed to agree with in recovery.

But if I’m honest, for a long time I didn’t really know what I was giving away.

I thought maybe it meant knowledge. Or advice. Or some kind of spiritual wisdom I’d picked up along the way. And sure, those things get shared. But the longer I stay sober, the clearer it becomes that in its most basic form, what I’m really giving away is time.

Time is the one thing I can’t get more of. I can always make more money. I can rebuild relationships. I can recover from a bad day. But time, once it’s gone, is gone. And that’s exactly why it matters.

Service shows up in my life as time spent at meetings, even when I’m tired. Time spent picking people up and driving them to a recovery meeting when it would be easier to stay home. Time spent answering calls at inconvenient hours, when someone else is scared, restless, or close to making a bad decision. Time spent sharing honestly in a meeting instead of staying quiet and comfortable.

It also looks like time spent with sponsees. Sitting down and walking through the program together. Listening. Answering the same questions more than once. Talking through fears, resentments, and doubts that I remember having myself. That time is filled with stories of how I lived before I got sober, what I did to get sober, and what I continue to do to stay sober today.

None of that is efficient. None of it fits neatly into a busy schedule. And none of it is convenient.

If I’m being honest, my natural instinct is to protect my time. Before sobriety, my time revolved around me—what I wanted, what I needed, what I felt like doing in the moment. Even early on in recovery, I still looked at my calendar and energy level first. I wanted sobriety, but I wanted it to fit neatly into my life.

What I’ve learned is that sobriety doesn’t stay alive when it’s treated like an accessory. It stays alive when it’s treated like a responsibility.

Giving my time in service isn’t about being a hero or saving anyone. It’s about staying available. When I give my time, I’m saying that my sobriety matters more than my comfort. I’m choosing to be present instead of protected.

And that choice changes me.

Every time I give my time to another alcoholic, I’m reminded where I came from. I don’t get to rewrite my past, but I do get to reuse it. The fear, the chaos, the failed attempts to stop—none of that is wasted when it helps someone else feel less alone. That reminder keeps me grounded. It keeps me honest. It keeps me sober.

There’s also something important I’ve noticed over the years. When I start pulling back from service, it’s usually not because I’m overwhelmed. It’s because I’m drifting. I stop answering calls as quickly. I skip meetings more easily. I tell myself I’ll get back to it when things slow down.

That’s never worked out well for me.

Service isn’t something I do once I’m spiritually fit. It’s one of the ways I stay spiritually fit. Giving my time keeps me connected. It keeps me outward-focused. It interrupts the quiet return of self-centered thinking that always shows up before trouble does.

I don’t always feel like being available. Some days I’d rather be left alone. But sobriety has taught me that willingness matters more than motivation. I don’t wait until I feel generous to give my time. I give my time, and generosity follows.

That’s the part I didn’t understand early on. I thought “give it away to keep it” meant giving something I already had plenty of. What it really means is giving something that costs me something. And somehow, that cost turns into protection.

I don’t stay sober by holding on tightly to my life. I stay sober by opening it up.

When I give away my time in service, I keep what was freely given to me. Not just sobriety, but perspective. Gratitude. A sense of purpose that doesn’t depend on how my day is going.

Time is the currency of service. And every time I give it away, I get to keep what matters most.

There’s lots of recovery 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 after you do some work, it’ll change your life.

Change Your Truth, Change Your Life.

Haler Smith