Growing Up, Growing Apart?

01. what an outgrown friendship taught me in my twenties

I used to believe that friendship was born pure from the heart, never keeping score, never counting costs. There were no ties of blood, nor professional obligations, yet we chose to stay anyway.

I thought it was the simplest relationship to build, a space where we could simply enjoy each other’s presence, without needing anything from one another or carrying any weight of expectations. Because of those ideas, I used to proudly tell everyone that I had many circles of friends and gave my wholehearted efforts to keep all those connections alive. In most of them, I was carrying all the excitement. The one who initiating, planning, making the bookings then waiting on everyone, taking everyone’s pictures, documenting the memories, even handling the payments and split the bill. I came to realize I was carrying the weight of the connection all by myself the whole time. I thought being the one who held everything together was my way of showing love. But along the way, I came to realize that I might have been wrong and I found out some of the friendships I treasured the most were actually just transactional, or even entirely one-sided.

Don’t get me wrong, I always pour genuine effort into my friendships, and for a long time, I assumed that everyone did the same. I thought being the ‘easygoing’ one would keep the friendship comfortable for everyone. So, I kept crossing my own boundaries and principles just to hold on to people who couldn't even respect or tolerate the lines I drew for myself. Yet, the moment I finally tried to step back to protect my peace, I was met with questions that made me doubt my own heart. They asked if I didn’t care about the friendship anymore, pointing fingers at me as if I were the only reason the whole group became awkward. It took me a while to realize that this was just a subtle form of guilt-tripping.

People loved hanging around because it was convenient for them. I appeared unproblematic, always ‘happy’, never complained, and always reliable. What they saw as effortless happiness was actually me trying my best to choose joy and keep things light. But as I looked at the connections I was trying so hard to protect, I had to be honest and ask myself a question I had been avoiding for a very long time: am I really happy?

The truth was, I wasn't. I was completely exhausted. I realized I was holding on to a version of friendship where I was never valued for who I was, but only for the purpose I served and the convenience of making things easy for everyone else. I assumed that putting in extra effort would always be enough to sustain the bond, only to end up disappointed when it wasn’t. It took a few silent realizations for me to see the truth: the moment I stopped taking the initiative, the connection faded, somehow I became the one who ‘walked away’ and lost them all.

When this happens across multiple friendships, it’s easy to blame myself and start wondering if I was the problem all along. Lately, a thought has been crossing my mind about my role in these dynamics, “Am I being too dominant?” “Do I always want to take the lead and never give anyone else a chance?” But when I look back, I know that wasn’t it. I would actually be thrilled if someone else took the reins, offered their ideas, or did more than just agree/disagree without bringing anything to the table. I never wanted to be the driver of the friendship, I wanted us to be on the journey together. All I ever wanted was a genuine, two-way connection.

I won’t deny that outgrowing people hurts and letting go of what I thought we had left a heavy ache. But I’m learning to accept the bittersweet truth that every season has its people, and every circle has its season too. Perhaps we were compatible back then because we grew up together and shared the same feelings. But now, our priorities and life goals have been shifted along the way, which is why the connection has started to feel more transactional.

Yet, deep down, my goal is no longer about having a lot of friends, but being selective to maintain my social energy, investing only in connections that are real and far from transactional, whether with old bonds or new faces. I’m honestly exhausted by friendship drama, adulthood is already confusing and overwhelming enough. I know that adult friendship is hard for everyone, not just for me. We see each other less, we plan further in advance, and we all have another life to keep going. But it feels so much harder when no one else initiates, as if keeping the friendship alive has somehow become my job and it’s my fault if we can’t make it work anymore. I hope my friendships can be low maintenance, a safe space where the effort flows both ways, rather than a source of exhaustion from always having to initiate the connection.

I know it’s easier to said than done, but we don’t need to meet every single day or constantly update each other life. On any random day, I just hope my friends will check up on me, invite me just to lie on the grass in silence, take me out just for ice cream talk, or simply remind me that they’ve got my back. In return, I will genuinely tell them that they can always count on me, too. I want that certainty of knowing that whenever I need them, they will be right there to listen and help. I want us to feel genuinely excited whenever we finally make time to see each other.

More than anything, I pray that they will always be safe and sound, even if we have outgrown our time together. I pray that we all grow well and find our happiness, no matter where we are or what paths that we take. At the end of the day, it’s no longer just about managing my social energy, but protecting my peace of mind. I hold no anger toward those transactional friendships. In fact, I’m grateful, because I know that somehow, they have built me into the person I am today. And for that, I choose to bear no bitterness.

Moving forward, I hope my sincerity will never feel like a burden to others, nor will it be taken for granted without being reciprocated. It took me twenty-five years just to realize that being kind should never mean sacrificing my boundaries. No, I don’t mean to stop being kind in those kinds of friendships. I understand that human connection can be somewhat transactional at times, and that’s totally okay. Kindness is beautiful, but so are boundaries. I still can be a caring person without burning myself out just to keep others warm. I just hope that someday, we will find a way to keep connections alive mutually, where no one has to end up feeling drained or exhausted.