Parallel Recovery - Supporting the Journey of Families
I remember a time when I had convinced myself of a story. It wasn’t a good story; in fact, it was one of the most painful ones I’ve ever carried with me. It was about my son. I began to play a tape over and over in my head that told me he didn’t want to get better. I told myself that he didn’t care about his family, and even worse, that he didn’t care about himself enough to do the work to change.
That story dug its claws into me, and I began to believe it. I believed that every decision he made, every time he struggled, was because of this deep-rooted indifference. I became fixated on this narrative and couldn’t see past it. It wasn’t just damaging to me; it put a wall between me and my son. And I began to realize something even more painful: that story I’d created wasn’t just hurting me—it was hurting him, too.
The thing is, when we latch onto these thoughts, we often mistake them for truth. They grow roots in our minds, feeding off our fears, insecurities, and past experiences. We can end up trapped in a cycle, believing stories that aren’t necessarily grounded in reality.
But here’s the real kicker—thoughts aren’t facts. They’re just thoughts.
Thoughts vs. Thinking: What’s the Difference?
A thought can be something that pops into our heads almost out of nowhere. It’s the voice in our mind that says, “He doesn’t care,” or “This will never get better.” These thoughts might feel so real in the moment, but they aren’t inherently truths—they’re just brain activity. It’s easy to let these fleeting ideas take root and shape how we see ourselves, others, and the world around us.
Then there’s thinking. Thinking is when we start engaging with those thoughts. Instead of simply letting them float by, we grab onto them and start weaving them into the stories that shape our lives. We start to ruminate, spiraling down a rabbit hole of “what ifs” and “if onlys,” and before we know it, we’re living inside this narrative we’ve created.
When I was caught up in the thought that my son didn’t care, I wasn’t just having a fleeting thought—I was turning it into a belief. I was feeding it with every little bit of evidence I could gather, convincing myself that this was the truth. But it wasn’t. It was just a thought. And that’s the tricky part of it all—our thoughts can feel so real that we believe them without question.
Observing Thoughts Without Believing Them
One of the most powerful things I’ve learned is that we don’t have to believe every thought that pops into our head. We have the ability to observe our thoughts as they are—just thoughts—without letting them define us or the people we love.
It’s kind of like watching clouds float across the sky. They come and go, shifting in shape and size. Some are dark and heavy, others are light and fluffy. But no matter how big or ominous a cloud might look, it doesn’t stay in the sky forever. Thoughts are the same—they pass if we let them.
When we step back and become an observer of our thoughts, we give ourselves the space to challenge them. Is this really true? Is this thought helping me, or is it causing harm? We begin to see that not every story our mind tells us is based on reality. Sometimes it’s just our fears and doubts talking.
The more I engaged with the thought that my son didn’t care, the more I hurt myself, my relationship with him, and him as well. It became a self-fulfilling prophecy because when you believe someone doesn’t care, you start treating them like they don’t care. And how does anyone react when they feel like they’re being misunderstood or undervalued? They pull away. They withdraw, and they behave in ways that feed the narrative.
But when I started to see that thought for what it was—just a thought—I was able to loosen its grip on me. I started questioning it. What if my son did care, but he was struggling to show it because of his own pain? What if his behavior wasn’t about indifference, but about feeling overwhelmed and lost?
By shifting my perspective, I was able to break free from the destructive story I’d created. I stopped engaging with that toxic thought and started to rebuild trust and compassion in our relationship.
Rewriting the Narrative
The stories we tell ourselves have power—but only if we let them. By learning to observe our thoughts without letting them dictate our beliefs, we can stop the cycle of self-fulfilling prophecies that cause so much damage.
I know firsthand how destructive these thought-spirals can be, but I also know that we can choose to rewrite the narrative and change our story. It’s not always easy, and it takes practice, but recognizing that a thought is just a thought is the first step. And in that space between thought and belief, we have the power to choose a different story—one grounded in compassion, understanding, and truth for ourselves and our people.
Because sometimes, the real truth isn’t in the thought—it’s in the love we have for each other, no matter how difficult things get. And that’s a story worth holding on to.
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