The Love Is Still There. The Ease Isn't Always - On friendship, life stages and growing older
This feels like quite a vulnerable piece to write.
I recently contributed to a Psychologies magazine article about friendship drift and reconnecting with old friends. While reading the finished piece, I realised there was more I wanted to say.
More about what happens when friendships slowly drift apart in the first place.
As a therapist, I hear versions of this story from clients all the time. Friendships that have changed, stretched, faded or become more complicated as life has unfolded.
As a human being, I've lived it too. Because many adult friendships don't end with a dramatic fallout. There isn't an argument, a betrayal or a friendship "break-up" ( I don’t know about you but in school my friends and I did sometimes ‘break up’ with each other and I found it truly heart-breaking) More often, they lose their energy and aliveness quietly over time which can actually be harder to make sense of.
Many of my closest school friends are married with children. For a long time, I was single. Today, I'm happily partnered, but I remain childfree. I love these women with all my bones. They've seen me through heartbreaks, career changes, the death of my dad, numerous house moves and some of the most important moments of my life.
Yet if I'm being honest, there have been times when I've felt like the odd one out.
When we're together, there are conversations about school admissions, children's friendships, family logistics and the daily realities of parenting that I simply can't contribute to. There is a shared language and experience that I don't have.
Sometimes I find myself listening more than participating. Sometimes I feel like a guest in a conversation rather than one of its speakers. I ‘other’ myself and perpetuate this cycle by going a bit quiet, not sharing about my life which can feel a bit less significant in comparison and just listening.
And I suspect I'm not alone.
When Different Lives Create Distance
One of the challenges of adult friendship is that our lives don't always unfold in the same way.
Some people marry young. Some don't marry at all. Some become parents. Some desperately want to and can't. Some choose not to. For others it's a complex mix of circumstance or ambivalence or timing.
Some people have demanding careers. Others prioritise family life. Some move away. Some stay rooted where they've always been. As we get older, our friendships are often required to stretch across increasingly different life experiences.
The love can still be there. But the ease isn't always.
The friendships that once relied on proximity, spontaneity and shared experiences now require more intention. More understanding. More flexibility. And sometimes, despite everyone's best efforts, distance creeps in. Not because anybody has stopped caring but because life has changed.
The Resentment We Don't Like To Admit
There is another layer to this that feels even more vulnerable to write about.
Sometimes I've felt resentful. Not because my friends have done anything wrong but because family life understandably changes priorities.
When friends have young children, flexibility often sits with the childfree friend. I travel to them. I work around nap times, school schedules and family commitments. Their needs understandably come first. Most of the time, that feels completely reasonable. Occasionally, though, a small voice inside me wonders why my needs seem more negotiable.
It's not something I'm proud of but simply something I've noticed. Something I’ve been able to reflect on in shared spaces with other women who maybe sit outside the more ‘traditional’ path. Something I’ve heard in the therapy room.
And I wonder how many other people carry similar feelings without ever saying them out loud.
The Friendship Conversation Nobody Talks About: Money
Then there's money. Oof! Another topic that often sits not-so-quietly beneath the surface.
As adults, our financial circumstances can become vastly different. A dinner that feels perfectly affordable to one friend can feel stressful to another. The pre dinner cocktail. The expensive bottle of wine as opposed to the second cheapest on the menu . The luxury holiday. The assumption that everyone is comfortable spending the same amount.
Nobody is trying to exclude anyone. Yet money can create a subtle emotional distance.
I've found myself hesitating before saying yes to plans. Wondering if I can justify the expense. Feeling embarrassed about being the person who doesn't want to split the bill equally. This isn’t because anyone has judged me but because I've judged myself. And that feeling of being "less than" can gradually erode connection. It's often easier to decline the invitation than to admit you're worried about the cost.
Friendship Is Built On Reciprocity
Esther Perel describes friendship as "the most free-choice relationship we have... there are no vows, only reciprocity."
Unlike family relationships, friendships don't come with obligations. We choose them, and we continue choosing them.But reciprocity becomes more complicated when our lives look very different. We still care but we have different demands on our time, energy, attention and resources.
The challenge isn't usually a lack of love. It's finding ways to remain connected despite the differences.(And let's face it, if you’re a woman in your 40’s reading this you are likely to be generally bloody tired!) It’s easier to perhaps reach for your local mates than the oldies who now live 20 miles away.
Making Space For New Friendships
There is another side to this story.
While some friendships have stretched and changed as our lives have taken different directions, I've also found myself forming new friendships in recent years with people whose lives look a little more like mine.
People who are childfree. People building businesses. People navigating similar questions about relationships, freedom, finances, purpose and what it means to create a fulfilling life outside of traditional milestones.
These friendships are incredibly precious to me and not because they replace old friends, but because they meet me where I am now. In fact, these newer friendships have alleviated the pressure on the old ones to fulfill all my friendship needs.
As I've got older and dare I say a bit wiser, I've realised friendship isn't an either/or.
We don't have to choose between cherishing the friends who have known us for decades and making room for new people who understand our current chapter.
There is something so beautiful about being loved by people who knew you when you were sixteen. And there is something equally beautiful about being deeply understood by people who are walking alongside you today.
Perhaps the goal isn't to keep every friendship exactly as it was. Perhaps it's to allow our friendship circles to evolve alongside us.
To honour the history whilst remaining open to what is emerging. To keep choosing connection in all its different forms.
A Final Thought
The older I get, the more I realise that friendship isn't just about finding people you love.
It's about learning how to love people through change.
Sometimes that means accepting that a friendship looks different now than it did ten years ago. Sometimes it means grieving the loss of a version of a friendship that no longer exists. Sometimes it means having honest and confronting conversations. And sometimes it means recognising that someone can still matter deeply to you even if they no longer occupy the same place in your life.
Writing this, I'm aware that some of my friends may read it.
I hope they know this isn't a criticism of them. It's simply an honest reflection on the complexity of maintaining close friendships as our lives take different paths.
In fact, writing it has reminded me just how grateful I am for the women who have walked alongside me through so many different chapters of my life. The friendships may not always look the same as they once did, but the love remains.
Adult friendships are beautiful.
They're also complicated.
And perhaps we don't talk about that enough.