Sick of trying to keep old friendships alive, Kate Langdon has let some go.
As you hit the midlife milestone a lot of big changes seem to happen: career upheavals, relationship hurdles and final whistles, shifts in wants and needs and goals, along with bountiful unwelcome changes to the body, of course. For the first time in many people’s lives they can see the end of the runway – and their own mortality – and this can bring about some bold decision-making and seismic shifts of our inner tectonic plates.
It’s often a time to question some facets of life and to have a deep-dive about what you want your remaining years to look like. It can also be a time to question the value of certain relationships in your life and, in some cases, to let some go.
Recently, I’ve come to the rather confronting and also sad realisation that I no longer have a meaningful relationship with two of my dearest and oldest friends. We’ve been friends since we were teenagers, approximately 35 years and they are people I assumed I would always be good friends with, for so long as we were both alive.
I can’t pinpoint exactly where or when we drifted apart. It has happened slowly over recent years, a gentle fade out. It’s not because we have taken different paths in life, or because we don’t live close to each other, at least I don’t think it is. I tend to think that good and healthy friendships are capable of surviving such things as distance and difference.
However, for the past several years, and probably for much longer if I’m honest, these particular friendships have largely been sustained by my effort – and mine alone – to sustain them. By checking in or suggesting a catch up, by providing support when it’s needed, and I just don’t have the energy or bandwidth to keep this up anymore.
It’s gutting to admit that we are simply not close friends any longer. It’s a form of grief I’m experiencing, I guess. Grieving for someone and something that has been such a big and influential part of my life. Grieving for the connection, the history, the many wonderful memories that we share. Aside from my family, these two friendships are the longest relationships I’ve had. I guess in a way I am also grieving for an old me who no longer exists.
To me, friendship is like a see-saw balancing act. There are times when one of you is supporting the other person in the air, and vice versa. Give and take, up and down. But I feel like I’ve had my arse scraping the ground with these particular friends for a long while now, without getting any time in the air. This might be on me – I’m not one to ask for help from anyone if I can avoid it – but surely these friends should know this about me by now?
I’ve contemplated if there is more I could be doing to keep these friendships alive. There probably is but, to be honest, I’m sick of trying. I’ve also wondered if perhaps these people no longer want to be friends with me… and I am simply a very slow learner.
Psychologists identify lots of reasons why friendships end, or should be ended. Like a breach of trust, hurtful or controlling behaviour, a violation of boundaries, a divergence of values, or because the friendship is emotionally draining.
The seldom times I do see these friends I always enjoy their company and it’s always fun; we laugh, we reminisce, we have a great time together. There’s no negativity and I don’t feel diminished or drained in their presence. There are no obvious red flags. But plenty of friendships also fizzle due to a lack of reciprocity.
I know that culling friends, especially in midlife, is nothing unusual. Time becomes scarcer if you simultaneously have children still at home, a career, and aging parents. It often feels like there aren’t enough hours in the day (despite waking at 5am because you can no longer sleep for more than five fucking hours). If you have been a person who has a tolerance for drama and negativity then this often evaporates in midlife.
Look, I understand that letting friendships go can be healthy – and even for the best sometimes – but it still sucks when you’ve been friends for so long and assumed you always would be. It hurts, badly.
Sadly, it doesn’t feel to me like there is any other form in which we can remain in each other’s lives in a meaningful way. When you have been such intimate friends, and for so long, it’s tricky to make the transition from this to sometime-friends, or even acquaintances. It feels wrong. It feels like a lie. And I’m a terrible liar.
Some psychologists wisely state that friendship is a choice. I like this. And I guess it’s time for me to choose friends who are willing to balance the see-saw with me.
