With only two people missing, this picture contains every woman I’ve called best friend over the span of my entire life. The longest friendships have lasted 19 years, while the shortest occurred over the last 8 years and survived a “break up” in between.
Instagram mirrors the real world in that it holds plenty of space to dote on or fret over romantic partnerships. However, there’s less room to discuss what happens when friendships sour… when dynamics change… and time has its way with someone that you thought was a forever friend. Where’s the handbook for navigating that kind of heartbreak?
As far as I know, one doesn’t exist. This has left me maneuvering like a frightened kid in the dark on some days. Like, I know the layout of this space… this friendship… but all the edges have seemingly hardened and suddenly pose a threat.
I was barely in my 20’s the first time I realized that one of my dearest friendships had lost its familiarity. Having spent high school within a clique of girls… the ranks began to fizzle out, and going off to college was slowly shifting my views. Armed with a bunch of feelings I didn’t have the emotional intelligence to express, I just knew that the friendship began to feel more hard landing than safety net.
However, I was not explicit in addressing this feeling. Instead, I let the space between us have its way until it seemed to overemphasize itself whenever we reconnected. Gone were the days of knowing each other’s innermost thoughts and giggling about the mutual understandings that accompany this type of knowing. In its place was an odd dance… our relationship had become that beloved outfit I refused to acknowledge no longer fit.
In its place were childbirths… and weddings… and more moving… and more life experiences that emphasized the ways we no longer relied on each other. And I was okay with that. The sting had gradually softened and been replaced with new friendships that fueled me in a different way.
And just like a new lover… these new friendships seemed to redefine everything I thought I knew about what I wanted in this kind of partnership. Where my friendships were once marked by shared adventure and trauma bonds, I began to know a companionship rooted in simple pleasures and self-development. It made my previous friendships feel like puppy love even though that didn’t lessen their imprint.
But how do you make sense of that without plucking on someone’s hearts strings? How do you say that I don’t love you any less, but what I’ve come to desire from this relationship has shifted? Well, the not so simple answer is that you say it. You put words to the feelings and trust in the sanctity of the union you’ve spent time grooming… and growing… and outgrowing, even. And you hope the foundation leaves room for you to be honest while also honoring yourself.
Similar to caring for a wilted plant, you don’t hang onto what’s rotting. You prune it and see what’s left to salvage. It either returns to growing… or leaves more room on your shelf. And either way, it is a loss. Something that you once held space for has been removed and likely mandates your mourning. So, you feel it. And it’s the feeling it that can easily become all-consuming. But what good is a friendship if losing it doesn’t amount to some type of grief? So, you hold space for that, too. And if you’re lucky, it’s later replaced by something altogether different… or something just a bit more fitting.
It is hard to discuss the terrain of friendship without wanting to wrap it in a bow, but the packaging isn’t always pretty. And still, that doesn’t make it any less of a gift. Even if you lose it.