After twenty-five years of shared history, laughter, and landmarks, I never imagined writing a goodbye to a friendship that once felt unbreakable. Yet here I am, acknowledging a truth that’s been slowly taking shape for years: we are divorcing each other as friends. Not in anger, not in some dramatic explosion, but in that quiet, undeniable way relationships sometimes end — the way a tide pulls back from the shore until you finally realize the water that once carried you both is no longer there.
Growing apart is rarely one big moment. It’s a hundred small ones that accumulate like dust until suddenly you notice the room has changed. I tried, in my own ways, to sweep it up —consistent check-ins, arranging meetups which the other party canceled over and over again at the last minute, broken promises to make more effort. But effort only works when it’s mutual, aligned, and honest. Somewhere along the years, our energy stopped meeting in the middle. We began moving through life on different frequencies, each of us building worlds that the other couldn’t quite fit into anymore. And while that’s no one’s fault, it was becoming our reality.
This experience has made me reflect deeply on what friendship truly is. A real friendship is not just time served; it’s presence, reciprocity, and a willingness to grow both together and separately. It’s being able to show up as your evolving self and still be recognized. It’s honesty even when it’s uncomfortable, accountability even when it’s messy, and grace when life gets complicated. Friendship isn’t a museum of old memories — it’s a living relationship that requires nourishment. When that nourishment stops, the bond inevitably begins to fade. My therapist stated that friendship is truly a ship that travels from the friend to the other friend, carrying the love and connection, community and support back and forth between the 2 parties.
Over the past 10 years, I watched my former friend on social media, having coffee with her close friends, celebrating birthdays, music festivals, and intimate dinners with her friends and family in her area. I called and texted for months at a time, only to have a response text when I put a series of question marks or a "Hello?" after a multitude of communications. I can count on my 2 hands the number of times I was invited to her home, or invited anywhere, actually. I consistently reached out, only to be ignored because she was too busy, too wrapped up in her worries (her words, years ago), but then seeing the smiles and festivities with others. She and her family were present at many get togethers which I have invited her to, or hosted, at my home and out and about. I don't have enough digits to count them. I had been trying to get together with her during my recovery periods from my 8 surgeries these past few years. I'm laying in the bed for months at a time, and she could not even pick up the phone to check in on me. After much rearranging, she and her daughter came over one time 2.5 years ago for a wonderful afternoon visit. I'm in great discomfort, yet I had to invite her, to host and prepare for her.
The wake up call for me was when I texted, once again, that I would cross the bridge to come see her in her neighborhood, if she was not able to come to SF to see me. I would take off a day of work (again) to make it happen. The night before our set date, only after I checked in for the 5th time that day to confirm, did I receive a response. She stated that she had a photo shoot the next day, and would hang out afterwards. So, I gave up my work day to be with her, and she knew this months ahead of time. She picked up a last minute gig having her photo taken. She could not give me a time or location after many queries as to where and when to meet. The time got later and later in the day. I was just going to head over to the other side of the Bay, and just wait for her somewhere. Am I just gullible? Stupid? My husband stated that the Universe was pushing me to not meet up with her. She could not commit to cancelling or to meeting. No specific address or time to meet was given, as she was evasive. I pulled my car over and called my spouse. He stated, "You probably would have been waiting in a parking lot somewhere for hours. Honey, just come home."
I texted her these truths, and once again, taking the high road, cancelled on her, as she was still on her photo shoot, AFTER the time we were supposed to meet. I asked her to let me know when she could truly meet up in the next few months, for sure, for sure. Then the silence. No communication at all. I expected she would have been able to communicate what was going on, how she came to have to take a job last minute, or perhaps communicated earlier. The silence was a sign that the former friend had been (once again) focused on herself and her needs, my therapist said. I came late to the realization that she was her friend, and I was her friend.
Life has a way of clarifying our priorities, especially when the shit hits the fan. Crisis reveals who can sit with you in the darkness, who listens without judgment, who shows up without prompting. It also reveals who cannot. As we each faced our own storms, the gaps became harder to ignore. Our responses to hardship pulled us onto different paths, shaped by different values and expectations. And while it hurts, it also illuminates what we need, what we can offer, and what we can no longer pretend still fits.
This isn’t a story of villains or victims — just two people whose lives no longer align in the ways that matter most. Letting go doesn’t erase the decades of joy, lessons, and love. It simply acknowledges that the version of us who once walked side-by-side no longer exists. And that’s okay. Sometimes the kindest, most respectful act is releasing a bond that’s been stretching thin for far too long. Instead of clinging to a past that no longer reflects our present, we’re choosing truth, autonomy, and the possibility of growth — apart.
Have you ever divorced a friend? How? I want to hear from you.
Sincerely,
KJ Landis
Growing apart is rarely one big moment. It’s a hundred small ones that accumulate like dust until suddenly you notice the room has changed. I tried, in my own ways, to sweep it up —consistent check-ins, arranging meetups which the other party canceled over and over again at the last minute, broken promises to make more effort. But effort only works when it’s mutual, aligned, and honest. Somewhere along the years, our energy stopped meeting in the middle. We began moving through life on different frequencies, each of us building worlds that the other couldn’t quite fit into anymore. And while that’s no one’s fault, it was becoming our reality.
This experience has made me reflect deeply on what friendship truly is. A real friendship is not just time served; it’s presence, reciprocity, and a willingness to grow both together and separately. It’s being able to show up as your evolving self and still be recognized. It’s honesty even when it’s uncomfortable, accountability even when it’s messy, and grace when life gets complicated. Friendship isn’t a museum of old memories — it’s a living relationship that requires nourishment. When that nourishment stops, the bond inevitably begins to fade. My therapist stated that friendship is truly a ship that travels from the friend to the other friend, carrying the love and connection, community and support back and forth between the 2 parties.
Over the past 10 years, I watched my former friend on social media, having coffee with her close friends, celebrating birthdays, music festivals, and intimate dinners with her friends and family in her area. I called and texted for months at a time, only to have a response text when I put a series of question marks or a "Hello?" after a multitude of communications. I can count on my 2 hands the number of times I was invited to her home, or invited anywhere, actually. I consistently reached out, only to be ignored because she was too busy, too wrapped up in her worries (her words, years ago), but then seeing the smiles and festivities with others. She and her family were present at many get togethers which I have invited her to, or hosted, at my home and out and about. I don't have enough digits to count them. I had been trying to get together with her during my recovery periods from my 8 surgeries these past few years. I'm laying in the bed for months at a time, and she could not even pick up the phone to check in on me. After much rearranging, she and her daughter came over one time 2.5 years ago for a wonderful afternoon visit. I'm in great discomfort, yet I had to invite her, to host and prepare for her.
The wake up call for me was when I texted, once again, that I would cross the bridge to come see her in her neighborhood, if she was not able to come to SF to see me. I would take off a day of work (again) to make it happen. The night before our set date, only after I checked in for the 5th time that day to confirm, did I receive a response. She stated that she had a photo shoot the next day, and would hang out afterwards. So, I gave up my work day to be with her, and she knew this months ahead of time. She picked up a last minute gig having her photo taken. She could not give me a time or location after many queries as to where and when to meet. The time got later and later in the day. I was just going to head over to the other side of the Bay, and just wait for her somewhere. Am I just gullible? Stupid? My husband stated that the Universe was pushing me to not meet up with her. She could not commit to cancelling or to meeting. No specific address or time to meet was given, as she was evasive. I pulled my car over and called my spouse. He stated, "You probably would have been waiting in a parking lot somewhere for hours. Honey, just come home."
I texted her these truths, and once again, taking the high road, cancelled on her, as she was still on her photo shoot, AFTER the time we were supposed to meet. I asked her to let me know when she could truly meet up in the next few months, for sure, for sure. Then the silence. No communication at all. I expected she would have been able to communicate what was going on, how she came to have to take a job last minute, or perhaps communicated earlier. The silence was a sign that the former friend had been (once again) focused on herself and her needs, my therapist said. I came late to the realization that she was her friend, and I was her friend.
Life has a way of clarifying our priorities, especially when the shit hits the fan. Crisis reveals who can sit with you in the darkness, who listens without judgment, who shows up without prompting. It also reveals who cannot. As we each faced our own storms, the gaps became harder to ignore. Our responses to hardship pulled us onto different paths, shaped by different values and expectations. And while it hurts, it also illuminates what we need, what we can offer, and what we can no longer pretend still fits.
This isn’t a story of villains or victims — just two people whose lives no longer align in the ways that matter most. Letting go doesn’t erase the decades of joy, lessons, and love. It simply acknowledges that the version of us who once walked side-by-side no longer exists. And that’s okay. Sometimes the kindest, most respectful act is releasing a bond that’s been stretching thin for far too long. Instead of clinging to a past that no longer reflects our present, we’re choosing truth, autonomy, and the possibility of growth — apart.
Have you ever divorced a friend? How? I want to hear from you.
Sincerely,
KJ Landis
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