When Friendships Fade (and Why It Hurts at Any Age)
Hey there.
Can we talk about something that doesn’t get enough attention, but quietly hurts… like, really hurts?
The way friendships can change. Or fade. Or just… go quiet.
Whether you’re a kid, a teen, in your 20s figuring it all out, or well into adulthood with calendars full of responsibilities, the pain of drifting from someone you care about doesn’t really get easier. It’s that quiet ache when someone stops reaching out, when the texts slow down, when you're always the one checking in—or when you realize neither of you are showing up the way you used to.
And I just want to say: if that’s been happening for you lately, you're not alone—and what you’re feeling is valid.
Why It Hurts So Much
Friendships aren’t just “extra” relationships. They’re often our chosen family. Our people. The ones who saw us through breakups, late-night panics, growth spurts (emotional and literal), and years of evolving selves.
So when those connections shift—maybe someone pulls away, maybe life gets busy, maybe nothing dramatic even happened but something feels… different—it can feel like grief. Because in many ways, it is.
And you don’t have to justify that to anyone. Just because you didn’t have a big falling out doesn’t mean your heart isn’t feeling the loss.
This Happens at Every Age (Yep, Even to Grown-Ups)
One thing I’ve learned—both personally and as a therapist at Abbey Rose Therapy—is that friendship grief doesn’t follow age rules. Here's how it can look across life:
When you’re a kid: Friendships are your whole world. A friend moving away or suddenly liking a different game can feel like your universe is breaking.
As a teen: Friends are your lifeline. They help shape your identity. When those bonds shift, it can feel like you’re losing part of yourself.
In your 20s: Life moves fast—school, jobs, moves, new relationships. Sometimes the people you were once inseparable from start to drift. It’s jarring.
As an adult: Time becomes scarce. Priorities shift. People get busy with work, families, or just trying to stay afloat. But even knowing that doesn’t make it less painful when someone doesn’t show up for you anymore.
And sure, maybe we’re “mature” enough to understand why people grow apart… but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting.
It’s Not Just About the Friendship
When someone pulls away, it often pokes at deeper fears we carry:
Did I do something wrong?
Am I not worth the effort anymore?
Was I imagining how close we really were?
We start questioning ourselves instead of realizing that sometimes… life just happens. Seasons shift. People grow in different directions. And still—it’s okay to miss what you had. Missing someone doesn't mean you’re stuck in the past. It means you valued the connection.
Let’s Be Honest—It’s Really Hard Not to Take It Personally
Even as a therapist (hi, I’m Abbey, an AMFT in Redondo Beach), I feel the sting of friendship changes, too. Human connection is so deeply tied to our sense of worth and safety. And when it shifts, it can bring up all kinds of old stories like:
I’m too much.
I’m not enough.
I’m always the one holding things together.
In therapy, I help people explore those stories—not to shame them, but to gently ask: Are these stories true, or just familiar? Together, we make space for more compassionate truths. Like: You showed up. You cared. You tried. That matters.
Some Soft Ways to Care for Yourself Through This
If you’re feeling the heaviness of a friendship changing, here are a few gentle things you can try:
Write them a letter (but don’t send it).
Let it all out—what you miss, what hurt, what you wish they knew. Sometimes your heart just needs to speak, even if it’s in a journal.
Grieve what was.
You don’t need a funeral to honor the end of something meaningful. Light a candle. Look at old photos. Cry a little. Smile at the memories. It's okay to say goodbye—even if the person is still technically in your life.
Remember who you are outside the friendship.
It’s easy to feel lost when someone who "knew you so well" fades away. Reconnect with the parts of you that existed before and beyond them.
Reach out—if it feels right.
Sometimes people drift not out of malice, but overwhelm. A simple “I miss you. Would love to catch up soon” can re-open a door. And if they don’t walk through it? That’s hard—but also clarifying.
Let new rhythms in.
Not all friendships have to end. Some just evolve. Maybe you don’t talk every week anymore. Maybe you become “once-in-a-while but always meaningful” friends. That’s okay too.
You’re Allowed to Mourn. And You’re Allowed to Keep Loving, Too.
Losing touch with a friend doesn’t mean the connection wasn’t real. It doesn’t erase the joy, the belly laughs, the inside jokes, or the ways you grew because of them.
You’re still worthy of deep, nourishing connection. Always.
If this is something that’s been especially heavy for you lately, know that you don’t have to carry it alone. As a therapist, I hold space for this kind of grief often. And at Abbey Rose Therapy, we work from a narrative therapy lens—helping you explore the deeper story behind the pain, and write new ones rooted in strength, softness, and self-trust.
You’re not too much. You’re not too sensitive. You’re human. And human hearts? They feel things deeply. Especially when they’ve loved well.
With so much care,
Abbey, AMFT
