On Losing Friends
Reflections on how growing up also means growing out of certain friendships.
Illustration by Ally Hart
I always thought I'd be one of those people whose friendships lasted ages. You know, the people who say we've been friends since middle school! Since kindergarten! She's like my sister! But as I've gotten older, I've realized just how rare those friendships may be.
I had a best friend from first to eighth grade. The legend goes that we were both walking around alone on our first day of school, both friendless, when we bonked heads on the playground and from then on were inseparable. Spontaneous sleepovers, secret pacts, experiencing countless firsts together. We swore we'd be each other's maids of honor, best friends 'til the end.
Then she moved away at the end of the 8th grade. She hadn't gotten into the high schools we had planned for, and so her dad found a job elsewhere and they moved. Now, Thousand Oaks and Pomona are only about an hour apart (on a good traffic day), but for friends who couldn't yet drive, it was an eternity away. I visited only once, and had to watch from social media as she got into drugs and alcohol abuse. We haven't spoken since (except for her recent comment on an Instagram post of mine to "stay safe honey !” Thanks, girl).
Still, as our friendship fizzled out, I was already adjusting to high school. I had made new friendships and strengthened exiting ones from middle school. THESE friends surely would be my new bridesmaids, right?? We divulged all our not-so-secret crushes, passed notes during class, got our drivers licenses together. I had my share of “bffls” across a few different friend groups and always had a place to sit at lunch.
Until I didn't. Some time during senior year, I started to notice one group drifting away from me more and more. I blamed myself, of course. Was I not cool enough? Not funny or athletic enough? Maybe I spent too much time with my other friends and didn't try hard enough to keep these friends. I was ashamed I hadn’t made the cut. It especially hurt as one of those girls was truly a best friend at the time. Our parents were friends — her parents still wave to me whenever we see each other at church — and yet she left me out to dry, didn't bother to fight for our friendship. Throughout freshman year of college, the few times we talked were forced and strained. Eventually, we just stopped talking altogether.
As I really came into my own in college, though, I drifted away from that friend group's interests and immaturities. I convinced myself it was for the better that we weren't friends anymore. We simply grew out of each other's friendship.
I found comfort in both my new college friends and my old high school friends, the ones who stuck with me through the transition from high school to college. These high school friends were my ride or dies - the ones I spent countless late nights with, the ones I visited every time I was home, the ones who grew into adulthood with me.
I thought I was set. I thought I had this core group of friends with me for life, for real this time. But I suppose they didn't feel the same, as during this time of quarantine and social distancing, they declined to include me in their Zoom happy hour hangouts. I was in shock. "Again???" I thought to myself. I've been excluded from a friend group again? The old thoughts returned: it's my fault for not reaching out more, my fault for not checking in enough, my fault for not realizing I was merely on the outskirts of this friend group. Only after I said something was I included, yet with no apology or acknowledgment of my previous exclusion in sight.
***
I’ve seen a number of posts throughout this time of social distancing and lockdown about grief — how it’s manifesting itself into our new daily lives and how “that feeling” we’re experiencing is grief. I read the headlines thinking that I didn’t have much to grieve, feeling extremely blessed to live with a boyfriend who takes care of me and keeps me sane. But I guess this is my thing to grieve now, the loss of years long friendships as I knew them. The loss of connections, the loss of a stability I thought I held with these people. I've been cut out of friend groups at basically every stage of my life — it's hard not to wonder what flaw of mine deserves or provokes that.
Losing friends isn’t on the same level as losing a sibling, say, or a significant other. And true, I’ve ended friendships myself. Either way, you still can’t help but think back on everything you’ve shared, everything you gave to those friendships and how those things are now stuck in the past, no longer meant for your future.
I could never have expected my friendship track record to look like it does. But unexpected things happen — that’s how life goes. And if anything, I find myself being extra incredibly grateful now for my best friends who have supported me for the entirety of our friendships, truly through both the best and the worst. They’ve helped me realize what actual good friends are and pushed me to be the best friend I can be, too. Y’all know who you are. Cheers to finding each other and not having lost each other. Yet.
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