There’s a common story in the A.A. community that resonates deeply with me, and with many families who are on the journey of supporting a loved one through addiction or mental health challenges. It’s called “Drop the Rock.” The idea is simple, yet incredibly powerful: Imagine yourself swimming toward a brighter, healthier future, but you’re weighed down by a heavy rock. This rock represents long-standing beliefs, fears, and expectations that you’ve carried with you for years. And until you drop the rock, you’ll continue to struggle, unable to move forward with ease.
For me, that rock was the vision I had of who my son needed to be and what his success would say about me as a mother. I thought that if he got better, if he became the person I envisioned, then I would finally feel like I had done my job right. But that belief was heavy, and it was dragging us both down.
The Long-Standing Beliefs We Carry
We all carry beliefs about ourselves and our loved ones. Sometimes, these beliefs are so ingrained that we don’t even realize they’re there, quietly influencing our thoughts, emotions, and actions. For many parents, especially those of us who have watched our children struggle, those beliefs might sound something like this:
If my child is doing well, I’m a good parent. If my child is struggling, I must have failed somewhere.
It’s my responsibility to fix things for them.
If I just try hard enough, I can get them to change.
I believed that if I could guide my son toward recovery, if he could find stability, it would prove that I had been a good mother all along. And while this belief might seem like it came from a place of love, it was actually rooted in my own flawed story. A story that I wasn’t enough, that I had failed, and that I was somehow responsible for every twist and turn in his life.
How Those Beliefs Were Formed and Reinforced
These stories don’t come out of nowhere. They are formed over time—shaped by our experiences, the expectations of others, and the things we tell ourselves. As parents, we often carry a deep sense of responsibility for our children’s well-being. From the moment they’re born, we take on the role of protector, nurturer, and guide.
But when our children start to struggle, that sense of responsibility can twist into something unhealthy. For me, I had to confront the ways in which I had tied my identity and worth to my son’s choices and behaviors. Every time he stumbled, I felt like it was a reflection of my shortcomings. And with every failure, my belief in my own inadequacy grew heavier, reinforcing that I wasn’t doing enough or being enough as a mother.
These beliefs became a loop in my mind, and they shaped my interactions with my son. Instead of offering support from a place of love, I found myself trying to control his recovery, thinking that if I could just do more or push harder, things would change. But all it did was push him - away.
The Desire to Return to the Past
When our loved ones are struggling, it’s natural to long for the past. We want to go back to when things felt easier, when our relationships were smoother, and when we weren’t weighed down by worry and fear. I often found myself longing for the days when my son was younger, before addiction took hold, before everything felt so uncertain. I wanted to rewind to a time when I believed I could still shape his future.
But the desire to return to the past is another rock that keeps us stuck. Clinging to what was prevents us from accepting what is and moving forward in a healthier, more realistic way. The truth is, we can’t go back. Our relationships and our loved ones have changed, and the path to healing requires us to face that reality, not fight against it.
Setting Realistic and Healthy Expectations
Part of dropping the rock means setting realistic expectations—not just for our loved ones, but for ourselves. As much as I wanted to control my son’s recovery, I had to learn that his journey was his own. I could offer support and love, but I couldn’t force him to follow the path I had envisioned.
Setting healthy expectations meant recognizing that my son’s success or failure wasn’t a reflection of my worth as a mother. It meant understanding that recovery is a winding road, with progress and setbacks along the way. And most importantly, it meant releasing the idea that I could, or should, control the outcome.
By letting go of the unrealistic expectations I had for myself and my son, I was able to approach our relationship with more compassion and less judgment. I stopped focusing on what should be and started accepting what was, which allowed us both to breathe a little easier.
The Importance of Accepting Change
Change is hard, especially when it comes to relationships. As I worked on dropping the rock, I had to confront the fact that my relationship with my son would never be exactly what it had been before. There had been hurt, disappointment, and struggle, and those things left their mark on both of us.
But here’s the thing about change: it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Accepting change in our relationship allowed me to see the strength that had come from the struggle. I saw my son’s resilience in a new light, and I started to appreciate the ways in which we both had grown through the challenges. Instead of holding on to the vision of who I thought he should be, I began to love and support him for who he was—a person on his own journey, figuring it out one step at a time.
Letting go of the past and embracing the present allowed us to rebuild our relationship on a foundation of mutual respect and understanding. It wasn’t perfect, and it never will be, but it’s real. And that’s enough.
Dropping the rock isn’t easy. It means letting go of long-standing beliefs that have shaped our thoughts and actions for years. It means releasing the need for control, accepting change, and setting healthy boundaries for ourselves and our loved ones.
For me, dropping the rock was about letting go of the story I had written about who my son needed to be in order for me to feel like I had succeeded as a mother. It was about recognizing that his journey didn’t define me and that my love for him didn’t require me to carry the weight of his life.
If you find yourself swimming against the current, weighed down by expectations, fear, and control, I encourage you to consider what rocks you might be carrying and why it's so hard to put them down.
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