I had a very close friend in high school who always called me their "rock." We are so lucky if we have that person who will stay up until 4 a.m. on the phone, listening and giving whatever advice they could. They keep you grounded, comfort you in (any) times of need, and keep you from going off the edge. They are there for you.
But I think very thoroughly in terms of analogies. My mind works in the ways of parables, and through that, I have discovered why sometimes a rock is something that may hurt you more than it helps. Thinking literally, if a rock is on the sea floor and is helping keep a person down in one place, it never moves. The person never leaves that space of water, warmed by experiences both good and bad, but so familiar that they never grow beyond it.
The rock is their comfort and theirs, but it is just a rock. There to listen and keep them in the safety of their own comfort, without the capabilities of showing them the way to move on.
Some of us are rocks, and some of us cling to them. But some of us are anchors under the false name of a rock.
An anchor is the same on the surface level as a rock. They hold a person in the place they are meant to be and keep them from drifting in the confusing, scary, endless depths of the sea. But they are more than a heavy hunk of metal at the bottom of the ocean, keeping the ship in place.
They can rise a bit above the sand and drift in the currents a bit themselves. They can raise themselves out of the water and venture to places they have never been. An anchor knows what it is comfortable with, to sit at the bottom of the sea in familiar waters is easy, and all it would have to do was stop moving, stop learning. But, it continues to journey on, for what would life be without experience and some hardship?
Yes, it may have dents. It may have barnacles and small remnants of past hardships evident on its surface, but its chain holds strong, and it does not sit at the bottom of the sea, unmoving. It prevails, and while it fulfills its own purposes, it supports the ship (or person) attached to them.
An anchor does not hold down the ship when it knows it needs to move on. Whether it is a breakup, a time of grieving, or any hardship that a person goes through, the anchor holds them in place just long enough for comfort and support, but when it is time to move on, the anchor helps lift them out of the sand at the bottom of the sea, and to venture to new waters ahead. But the rock, the rock stays in its familiar waters, now only marinating in the emotions and hardship floating like debris in the water around it. The rock does not move on like the anchor does to help.
Now, there is a time to be a rock and a time to be an anchor, as well as a time to find both. But if someone wants to move on or help a person move past their hardship, they must help them out of the sand. Into the waters that may be colder, that may be a little bit more intimidating, but what lies beyond them is the experience of life. How boring would it be to know only what is around you and what is comfortable? How boring would it be to know only the waters around you?
Realizing this, you may have realized that you are indeed an anchor and have been mistakenly called a rock. Or, you are realizing that the one you thought was your anchor was actually a rock. If this person to you is only there to comfort and does not attempt to pull you out of the heavy sand, consider this: which are they? Which would you rather have? The familiarity of whatever hardship you face and wallowing in it, or the small bit of nervousness of exploring infinite waters with none of the debris from the past hindering your wake?
With all of this, you can choose whether you want to lift yourself from the sand. But on a barren ocean floor, sometimes it is much easier to swim with the support of someone else, someone you love, especially if they know the waters well themselves.
