On the (sometimes painful) way friendship changes in mid-life
Watching two friends grow away from me has been painful, but mid-life is also showing me so much about what I need from, and can offer, my closest friends
Yesterday Dash and Lester made costumes for a playfight in the back yard with their friends who live on our street. Dash painted a dustbin lid with Captain America colours, and pieces of camo were fashioned into battle clothes. For a couple of hours the kids stalked each other, jumping out from behind hedges and picket fencing to battle with broom handles and sticks. Their playfight (note:play) spilled out of our garden into the alleyway running behind the house. From our kitchen, I could hear the excited peaks of their voices. Their friendships felt solid, and very fun. Afterwards they all came in and watched The Simpsons, eating cold pizza, their elbows in one another’s laps, as they huddled together at one end of our sofa. Watching them, I hoped that through time and across an ocean, their friendship might last into adult life.
Watching the fun they were creating together reminded me of why friends really, really matter. I think they matter more than ever, right now, as the world convulses. I thought of this a lot over the weekend, after feeling physically sickened watching Zelensky and those vile bullies; my first reaction after seeing it was to call one of my closest friends, since I needed to be reminded what loving kindness is, and to actually experience, via the sound of her voice, the good feelings friendship brings with it, like empathy, connection, loyalty, reassurance, humour, love.
I’m fifty in less than two months, and I don’t think my friends have ever mattered to me as much as they do now. I cherish my friends and rely on them so much, but over the last decade, some friendships have shifted and rearranged themselves in surprising ways. Holding onto friendship in mid-life, I’ve learned, is a fragile thing to do and social media means we have a window, albeit a blurry one, into other people’s lives. It’s hurt, witnessing two of my oldest friends grow closer to one another while turning away from the once-close friendship we shared. I feel excluded from their world, which I hear about from mutual friends, then see in glimpses on social media.
Being rejected by an old friend, without an apparent falling out, is a particularly strange pain. It really hurts, especially as I’m genuinely unsure of what I’ve done. Maybe I’ve done nothing. Am I being paranoid, I ask myself? Am I imagining this? Was it me? Did I do something? Or is this simply what happens to some friendships in mid-life? Do certain relationships, which we might have assumed would be there for life, simply float away, without real explanation?
Moving to a new country, in my late forties, has also made me realise more deeply what we need and want, and in return give and reciprocate, in friendships…