Is It a Boundary — Or Are You Still Trying to Control the Outcome?

This week something happened that got me thinking. And I've been turning it over ever since, because I think it gets right to the heart of something so many of the mothers I work with are struggling with.

As some of you may know, our grandson lives with us we have full custody of him, so this is just our normal life — me,Nana, my husband, Popa and him, and all the beautiful chaos that comes with raising a young child. And this week we've been working on screen time. Which, if you've ever tried this with a child, you will know is a process.

What I've been doing is this: I give him a five-minute warning before it's time to get off the device. And then when the five minutes is up, he has to get off. And if he doesn't? I turn it off.

Now. Is that a boundary? Or is that a rule?

I've been sitting with that question. And the more I sit with it, the more I think — this is exactly the question so many mothers are wrestling with. Just in a much harder, much more painful version of it.

What rules actually are — and why they stop working

Rules are designed to direct or control another person's behaviour.

With children, that's not only okay — it's the job. Part of what it means to love a child through their development is holding structure when they can't hold it themselves yet. Rules exist because children are still learning to self-regulate. They need guidance, limits, and someone to say — time's up, devices off, and mean it.

When I turn off my grandson's screen, I'm not being cruel. I'm acting in his best interests because he can't yet fully manage this himself. I have genuine authority in that relationship — he's a child who lives in my home and depends on me. That authority is real, and it's appropriate.

But rules require enforcement. They require your energy, your vigilance, your follow-through. And most importantly — they require that you actually have the power to enforce them.

That is the piece that changes when your child becomes an adult.

When your child is an adult, you no longer have authority over another autonomous person. You can't turn off the device anymore. You can't enforce a curfew. You cannot make them go to treatment. You cannot make them stop using.

And when you try — when you set what you're calling a boundary but it's really a rule designed to direct their behaviour — two things tend to happen.

First: it doesn't work. Because you don't actually have the power to make it work.

And second — this is the part that really matters — your wellbeing becomes completely dependent on what they choose to do. If the rule breaks, you're back in the same chaos you started in. Nothing has actually shifted.

The subtle but massive shift

Let me give you an example. Because this is where the real clarity lives.

A mother says to her adult child: "You can't use drugs in my home."

On the surface, that sounds like a boundary. It's firm. It's clear. She's drawing a line.

But watch what happens when we look underneath it.

If the focus is on what her son or daughter must do — stop using in the house, follow the rule — then this is still a rule. It's still about their behaviour. And the moment they break it, she's back in the same impossible position. What now? Does she follow through? Does she back down? Either way, she's lost.

But here's what a boundary underneath that same situation might actually sound like:

Do you feel the difference?

It's subtle. But it's enormous.

The first version is about them. The second version is about her. The first depends on what they do. The second depends on what she is willing to do.

This version is actually hers to hold. It doesn't depend on what her child chooses. It depends on what she needs, what she can sustain, what she is willing to do to protect herself, her home, her values.

Boundaries still often involve action. If the drug use continues, the boundary might become: you can't stay here while this is happening. And that might look exactly like a rule from the outside. But the orientation is completely different.

Not as punishment. Not to force recovery. Not because "hit rock bottom." But because — she matters too.

Those two things are not opposites. But so many mothers I work with have been living as though they are — as though loving their child well means there's nothing left over for themselves. As though caring for themselves is somehow a betrayal.

It isn't. It never was.

The part nobody usually says out loud

I want to say something that most boundary conversations leave out entirely.

Sometimes mothers are still trying to control outcomes through their boundaries.

Not because they're doing something wrong. Because they're scared.

There's a quiet internal voice that says: if I hold this line perfectly, maybe the chaos will end. If I say this in exactly the right way, maybe they'll change. If I stop giving money, maybe they'll hit rock bottom and finally turn things around.

That is incredibly human. When someone you love is suffering, every part of you is scanning for something — anything — that might make it stop. That's not weakness. That's love under enormous pressure.

But here's the problem. When a boundary is emotionally dependent on your child changing — when the whole point of it, underneath, is to make them do something different — you are still trapped inside their choices. The moment they don't change, the boundary collapses. Because it was never really about you. It was still about them.

Not: I'm doing this so that you will change.

But: I'm doing this because I cannot continue in this situation and remain well. And your recovery is yours. Your choices are yours. And I love you enough to stop trying to own them.

The grey area — because it's always there

I want to be honest: this is not as clean as I've just made it sound.

In real life, in real families — especially when addiction and mental health are involved — the line between rules, limits, boundaries, and influence is not always clear. And I don't want to give you a framework that has you second-guessing every decision you make. So let me name some of the grey areas.

Safety. Sometimes what looks like a rule is actually about genuine safety. Yours, your child's, other people in the home. A limit around immediate danger or violence is different to a limit around discomfort or fear. Both might be real. But they're not the same.

Fear versus values. There's a difference between a boundary held from fear and a boundary held from values. Both might lead to the same action. But they feel different in your body — and they hold differently over time. A boundary held from fear tends to collapse or escalate. One held from values tends to stay steadier, even when it's hard.

Influence is real. I don't want anyone to walk away from this thinking — well, nothing I do matters. That's not what I'm saying. The way you show up, the steadiness you bring, the connection you maintain or rebuild — these things have real influence. That's not the same as control. But it's not nothing, either.

Not all adult children are in the same place. An adult child in acute crisis who cannot function is not the same situation as an adult child who is making choices you disagree with but who is fundamentally able to care for themselves. How you navigate limits legitimately looks different depending on where your child is.

None of this is simple. And if anyone is selling you a simple version of it, I'd be cautious.

Coming back to my grandson

Turning off the device? That's a rule. And it's completely appropriate. He's young. He needs structure. I have authority in that relationship and I'm using it in service of his wellbeing. There's nothing wrong with that.

But if he were an adult? The action might look exactly the same from the outside. But the orientation would need to be completely different.

Not: how do I make him do what I need him to do.

But: what do I genuinely need here, and what can I actually hold — regardless of what he chooses?

That is the shift. From control to self-responsibility. From their behaviour to my response. From losing myself inside the chaos to standing steadily within it.

And one last thing — for anyone sitting here worrying that they've been getting this wrong.

You will do things that are more about control than you realise. You will set what you think is a boundary and it will turn out to be a rule. You will hold on when you meant to let go. You will let go when you meant to hold on.

That is being human. That is not failure. The goal isn't to get this perfectly right. The goal is just to keep looking at where you're actually standing. To stay curious about your own motivations. And to keep coming back to the question — is this about me, or is this about them?

That's the work. 

Until next time, take care x