The impact of friendship break-ups is too often overlooked

In the last few years, I’ve lost a couple of people who were deeply important to me. Not through death, but through the more ambiguous kind of loss where they remain just out of reach –friendships damaged or disintegrated beyond repair that I once believed were for life.

Some of this, I believe, was the hangover from the Covid-19 pandemic, a period which seemed to accelerate change in many of us, so much so that we ended up at entirely different destinations.

I can rationalise all of this, but that didn’t stop it hurting like hell. I spent many days agonising over what had happened – if I could have done more; if it was all a reflection on my own inherent deficiency. And I cried. Ugly cried. From the darkest depths of my soul, as if nothing would ever be right again, I cried.

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This is a common part of life, but oddly it’s one that’s overlooked in many discussions of the human condition and the different forms of grief we experience throughout our lives.

Heartbreak from the end of a romantic love is the stuff of legends. Box office hits and TV favourites hook us in with stories of love that wasn’t made to last, inviting us to weep right along with our heroes as they find themselves alone and desolate once again.

From country classics to emo ballads, every music fan has their pick of break-up anthems to get them through their own relationship woes. Everyone knows that sobbing into your pillow at least once from the loss of a great – or terrible – love is a rite of passage, and that you might just have to go through it a few times before you find “the one”.

But when it comes to the end of platonic friendships – arguably something that most of us will experience more times in our life than a romantic split – there is far less guidance out there on how to manage the loss.

The end of a friendship can be difficult to navigate emotionally (Image: Canva)

Perhaps this comes from a conviction that real friendships will, or should, last forever. Maybe it’s a belief that the pain of losing a friend is never quite as acute or all-consuming as getting dumped by the love of your life.

Neither of these assumptions are really fair though, so maybe it’s time we give friendship heartbreak the attention it deserves.

The first time I lost a friend I really cared about, I was 12 years old. I had gone to a different secondary school from most of my primary friends, and a group of tyrannical little girls had ordered my best friend since nursery to cut me off, cold turkey.

I tried calling his house and he only hung up, again and again.

I was crushed.

Still, that paled in comparison to how it felt to lose friends as I got older. Somehow, as harsh as that instance might have been, I knew that it was normal – expected even – to lose old friends and make new ones as you transitioned from childhood into the teenage years.

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As an adult, losing a friend feels like a failure. At least, it has felt that way for me and I think a big part of that is because it’s not something we often speak about openly and honestly.

When I was 16 and a girl I was close to broke off from our friend group and made a point of rejecting me because I was gay, I was confused and conflicted.

I was angry with this person, but I also missed her. I had an answer, of sorts, for what had happened, but I felt a haunting lack of closure because this didn’t add up to the person I thought I knew.

I don’t believe I ever articulated those feelings to my other friends at the time, despite the fact that they might have been experiencing something similar. I certainly didn’t articulate them to the friend who had spurned me.

Truthfully, I think we all had to pretend that we weren’t hurt, because revealing such pain would mean admitting we cared. What a sad survival instinct to have developed so young – but it’s one that seems to define so many adult friendships.

This unspoken oath of silence regarding friendship heartbreak can make it even harder to process than a romantic split but the two experiences share a lot in common.

For instance, when a close friendship ends abruptly or it becomes clear that the other person does not reciprocate your interest in continuing the relationship, it can inspire a sense of shame that it hasn’t worked out.

If it’s hard telling your family or friends that a partner has broken up with you, the embarrassment of telling them a friend doesn’t want to spend time with you any more can be even worse.

And whether you’ve had an irreparable falling out with a friend or a slow progression of difficulties that have pushed you further apart, it can be challenging not to apportion blame to yourself or the other person. I have put myself under great pressure in the past to sustain friendships that no longer felt good, or found myself angry that the other person didn’t seem to want to try.

It is well understood that two people might just not be a fit as romantic partners, or their lives and mentalities might end up in such different places that the relationship simply can’t work any longer.

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When it comes to platonic connections, though, a common refrain is that true friends are forever. Where, then, does that leave the room to appreciate the impact that a friendship has made on your life, while also acknowledging that it has run its course?

We should be able to give ourselves and others the grace to accept the end of friendships as we would the end of a romantic partnership, without letting go of the good memories we’ve shared.

But coming to this place of understanding isn’t easy. It seems many of us are still bound by that childhood promise to never reveal just how much we care when friendships end, which only makes the loss more difficult to navigate.

Friendship occupies a strange place in our culture, in that we are simultaneously expected to maintain these relationships while never granting them the same significance as romantic ones. There is a clear hierarchy in how we are supposed to prioritise our relationships – romantic, familial and then platonic friendships.

In reality, friendship can be just as impactful as romantic love, and losing a friend can be just as devastating as losing a partner.

Perhaps if we started by recognising that, we might be ready to extend empathy to ourselves and accept that it is OK to grieve the loss of a friendship – even one that wasn’t made to last.