What to Say (and Not Say) to Someone in Recovery

A guest contribution by Renee W. for Centres for Health and Healing.

The words that helped me—and the ones that didn’t—after six years sober.

A few years ago, not long after my one-year sobriety milestone, someone looked at me across a dinner table and said, “So… do you think you’ll ever be able to drink again, just socially?”

They didn’t mean harm, it was probably just curiosity, maybe even misplaced hope, but it felt like an attack. But I remember that uncomfortable swirl of feelings I hadn’t quite found language for yet…Shame, frustration, and a weird sense of being misunderstood, even by people who cared about me.

I changed the subject, but inside I was screaming: This isn’t about willpower. This isn’t something I’ll graduate from. I don’t want to go back to the version of myself that needed alcohol to cope, to numb, to disappear.

Now, as I prepare to celebrate six years of sobriety this May 26, I’ve had time, plenty of it, to reflect on how the words people say to us in recovery can stick. Some words feel like balm. Others hit a pain you didn’t even know was still raw.

If you love someone in recovery, or even just want to show up with a little more grace and empathy, here’s what I’ve learned about what helps, what doesn’t, and how to truly support the process.

What to say to someone in recovery (that actually helps)

“I’m proud of you.”

Six years in, this still hits me every time. It never gets old to be seen, especially for something that took grit that most people never witness. Whether the person you love is a week, a month, or 20 years into recovery, remind them that you see their effort and that it matters.

“You don’t have to go through this alone.”

So many of us felt like burdens before we ever got sober. We learned to isolate. We built walls. Saying this—and meaning it—can crack open a space where connection can grow.

“I don’t understand everything you’re going through, but I’m here.”

This one’s gold. Don’t pretend to get it if you haven’t lived it. That doesn’t make you less helpful. It makes you more honest. And we can tell when you’re being real.

“What’s been helping you lately?”

I love when someone asks this without making assumptions. It gives me permission to talk about the things that are working or admit if nothing is working right now.

“How can I support you right now?”

Our needs change. What helped me in year one is different from what I need now. Some days, I want to talk, and other days, I want to be left alone. This question shows that your support is flexible, not conditional. It tells us you’re listening, not assuming, and that matters a lot.

What not to say (even if you mean well)

“Just don’t drink/use again.”

Ah, if only it were that simple. I wish people understood that addiction isn’t a behaviour problem, it’s so much deeper. It’s a mental, emotional, and often spiritual unraveling. This kind of phrase oversimplifies something that nearly killed me.

“Haven’t you been sober long enough to have one?”

No. And please don’t say this to anyone, ever. Addiction doesn’t work like that. One drink isn’t just one drink for us. It’s a gateway back to a version of ourselves we fought hard to leave behind.

“I always knew you could do it.”

This can be weird, especially if you weren’t around during the hard parts. Even if you were, this statement can feel more about your confidence than my process. Instead, try: “I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked for this.”

“So, are you cured now?”

Addiction isn’t the flu. It’s something I’ve had to learn to live with, not erase, and it’s always lurking in the shadows. I still have triggers. I still have days when the voice of old habits whispers louder than usual. Recovery is ongoing.

“I don’t get it. You had such a good life.”

This one stings. Because from the outside, things did look fine. But addiction doesn’t care about your job title, your family, or your privilege. It sneaks into the cracks where pain hides, and we don’t even see it coming.

What we hear (even if you don’t say it that way)

Sometimes it’s not the words; it’s the vibe. I’ve heard plenty of comments where the intention was good, but the impact was… not.

You say: “I can drink without a problem.”
I hear: “I’m distancing myself from your struggle. I don’t want to sit in it with you.”

You say: “Still going to those meetings?”
I hear: “Shouldn’t you be fixed by now?”

You say: “It’s all about balance, right?”
I hear: “You think I could moderate if I just tried harder.”

You say: “At least you weren’t as bad as some people.”
I hear: “You don’t really see how much pain I was in.”

You say nothing at all.
I hear: “Your recovery makes me uncomfortable.”

Here’s a secret: silence can be louder than anything. If you’re not sure what to say, just say that. “I don’t know what to say, but I care.” That kind of honesty is comforting and much better than most polished cliches.

Notes from the inside: Things I’ve learned (and hope you’ll remember)

You’re not my therapist or sponsor.

Please don’t try to fix me. Don’t try to analyze me. Just be my friend. The safest people in my life are the ones who walk with me, not ahead of me holding a flashlight I didn’t ask for.

Boundaries are not rejection.

I might not come to the wine-and-cheese night. I might leave early if the vibe feels off. That’s not me being rude. It’s me protecting my peace. Respecting that means everything.

Not all healing is pretty.

Recovery isn’t a makeover story with a beautiful “after.” Sometimes it’s me crying in my car after a normal conversation that triggered something. Sometimes it’s awkward, messy, and slow. And no, I don’t always want to talk about it.

Apologies are great. But actions are better.

If you hurt me when I was drinking, or when I stopped, your “sorry” is a beautiful start. But please let it be just that: a start. What I really need is consistency.

Learn with me.

You don’t have to become an expert on addiction. But reading an article, listening to a podcast, or going to a family support group says a lot. It tells me you care enough to try.

Words that have stuck with me

Here are a few things people have said over the years that I carry with me. These are words that didn’t just sound nice but helped me feel safe:

• “You don’t have to pretend around me.”
• “I’m proud of how far you’ve come, and I’m with you no matter what.”
• “You’re allowed to feel what you feel.”
• “You’re not too much. You’re human.”
• “You never have to earn your right to be cared for.”
• “I’m in this with you, even when it’s hard.”

And sometimes, support has shown up in smaller ways:

• A friend texting, “Meeting tonight? Want me to save you a seat?”
• My husband picking up my favourite tea after a rough day instead of asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
• Someone simply sitting next to me in silence when I didn’t have the words to explain why I was overwhelmed.

If you say the wrong thing…

You will. Everyone does. I’ve said the wrong thing plenty of times to other people in recovery. It’s about being honest and humble enough to notice.

If you mess up:

• Apologize.
• Don’t over-explain or turn it into a guilt dump.
• Let the moment breathe.
• Keep showing up.

You don’t need the perfect words. You just need to stay close. I promise that matters more than getting every word right.

Final thoughts

Six years into sobriety, I still remember the sting of words that didn’t land well and the warmth of words that did. Language has power because it can make someone feel seen or unseen. Safe or ashamed. Whole or broken.

If someone you love is in recovery, know this: your presence means more than “getting it right.” We don’t need you to walk on eggshells. We just want to know you’re walking with us.

So say the thing. The clumsy, honest, human thing. The “I love you.” The “I’m here.” The “How can I help?”

Those are the words we remember.

Centres for Health & Healing is here for you

At Centres for Health & Healing, we believe recovery is a community effort. Whether you’re the one doing the healing or walking alongside someone who is, you don’t have to figure it out alone. We’re here with real support, for real life.

Reach out anytime to learn more about our family resources, therapy options, and personalised care that meets you where you are.