When should you break up with a friend?

Ending platonic relationships can be just as messy (if not more so) than ending romantic ones — but sometimes it's necessary

Photo by Marah Bashir on Unsplash

Trigger warning: This post briefly mentions suicidal ideation.

The summer of 2018, I met Leah. Our paths first crossed at a 3-day orientation before a service project we’d be completing. Instantly, she stood out from everyone else in the room.

Leah spoke slowly and intentionally, and bore a pensive expression as she listened to others. She also possessed an air of mystery, like someone made of stone, to which one had to chisel to reach the center. We bonded quickly over our shared South Asian ancestry, affinity for travel, introversion, and love of reading.

Throughout the summer, we hung out frequently. In the initial loneliness of moving to a new city, Leah became a much-needed companion for me.

“I should warn you about something,” she said the first time we met, a sly smirk spreading across her face. “I don’t do small talk.”

Where have you been all my life? I thought.

Over the next couple of months, a bond blossomed between us. We went to escape rooms and nightclubs and even a vegan Thanksgiving potluck. I found myself laughing more, feeling a sisterly connection that I hadn’t experienced with someone new in a long time. Our conversations often veered into the philosophical and existential. Leah had a deep yearning to understand the human psyche; to delve into the uncomfortable. She had big dreams of changing the world.

I was used to people beating around the bush; of sugarcoating to protect my feelings. But Leah didn’t shy away from calling me out.

“You know, you don’t have to be so positive all the time,” she said to me once in my living room, her thick brows furrowing.

I was taken aback. “I guess it’s all I’ve ever learned,” I replied, my face growing warm with shame.

Photo by Sam McNamara on Unsplash

“Being positive in inappropriate situations can seem dismissive, you know,” she said with a shrug. “Sometimes it’s okay to just say, ‘That sucks.’ Because many things in life do.” She then sent me an article on the dangers of toxic positivity.

For the first time in our relationship, I felt offended. I wasn’t accustomed to such directness from anyone, let alone a friend. Maybe this is what mature friendships are about, I thought to myself. So, I read the article and made an inner note to be more mindful of what I said around her. 

Though we enjoyed each other’s presence, I soon found that being Leah’s friend came with its own demands. She often alluded to her toxic living environment, her family’s complete invalidation of her physical and emotional health challenges.

Leah told me how anxiety-inducing and infuriating it was to live with her family — to have her every move, every decision closely guarded. She’d long been saving money to move away from home, to New York City, and didn’t plan on telling her relatives. Dual forces of concern and joy swirled inside of me. I worried for her safety if her family found out. But I felt hopeful at the prospect of freedom being within her reach.

As the months passed, the boundary between Leah and me began to fade. The scales had shifted from a place of ease and relative equilibrium. She relied on me more and more — for emotional support, but also to spend the night at moment’s notice because of fights at home. Though I obliged to her needs, I pulled away, slowly sealing off the part of myself that I’d revealed to her. She only inched closer.

We’d entered a game of tug-of-war. Leah would reel me in, only to get hurt by something I said (or failed to say). Then she’d loosen her grip, spawning me to pull her back in. I needed her for validation as much as she needed me for the safety I provided.

Red flags had long arisen, waving vehemently in my face alongside flashing lights. “You’re like medicine to me,” Leah had said to me one day over a text exchange. Yet I found such words as evidence of my worthiness as a friend, not as a warning that dangerous waters lay ahead.

Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Leah pulled off her move to New York City, and I agreed to store several of her belongings at my house. “I’ll bring them up when I visit,” I promised her, yet a knot in my gut told me these were empty words.

By this time, the winter of 2020, I was walking on eggshells. I attempted to set a boundary — something I’d never done, with anyone — telling Leah I had emotional limits to what I could handle. She’d agree, yet we’d soon find ourselves where we’d started. I felt as if I couldn’t say anything without triggering her in some way. And she couldn’t interact with me without depleting my emotional resources.

There was no running from the truth: this friendship had long run its course.

I didn’t want Leah to feel like I failed her, though. And I didn’t want to feel like I’d failed myself. I’d always needed to be needed; to be the “saver.” This pattern had also shown up in my romantic relationships, and a few other long-standing friendships. There had been previous platonic breakups in elementary and middle school. But with this one, the stakes felt higher. 

At last, the day came.

Leah and I had gotten into another argument and I’d reached my breaking point. After discussing the situation with a friend and my therapist, I drafted up a long message to send Leah. I started with the positives — how much I enjoyed spending time with her, how much I valued her wisdom and insights. Then I mentioned the ongoing boundary issues, telling her it was a friendship I no longer had the capacity for. I aimed to end on a good note, once again affirming how much I appreciated her.

I stood in the stairwell of my house, my eyes struggling to focus as my head spun. My heartbeat reverberated into my ears, while my throat tightened, as if being clamped by a pushpin. I had to do it. I could no longer stand the whiplash from the emotional roller coaster. Without hesitating a second longer, I stared down into my phone and pushed send.

I exhaled, releasing nearly two years of bottled-up tension. Then the unexpected happened. 

Before you send things like that, think it through, she wrote. You know how fragile my mental health is, and honestly, your words made me feel suicidal.

Suicidal. The word burned through my mind like an inferno. My skin dampened with sweat. 

Panic flooded me as my line of sight grew fuzzy. Should I call her local police? Should I call my therapist? Should I call Leah?

Photo by Jae Park on Unsplash

A few frantic text exchanges later, my therapist assured me that Leah was trying to make me feel guilty. I remained on edge, worried that the next news I’d hear of Leah would involve an obituary. How could I have let this happen?

Leah apologized over the next couple of days, even asking to resume a friendship. But any semblance of a foundation had long crumbled. A newfound lightness — one I hadn’t realized I was lacking — overcame me. I needed room to breathe; to replenish my headspace with people and pursuits that brought me joy.

Several months later, a friend of Leah’s came and retrieved the belongings I’d been storing, officially solidifying the platonic breakup. 

The Aftermath

For a long time, I clung to resentment. How could Leah take advantage of my time and energy that way? How could she take up so much space in the friendship? I also reflected on all of the positive aspects of the friendship. She’d taught me a lot about mental health and accompanied me on all kinds of adventures. Alongside the relief, I also felt grief — I wished things didn’t have to end the way they did.

As I sat with the situation in the coming weeks, a harsh but essential truth revealed itself. I had to acknowledge my own role in what had happened — not in a blaming way, but from a place of self-compassion: Looks like I have quite a bit of my own work to do.

I had to accept a harsh truth. I’d ended up in codependent relationships and relied on people like Leah to prove my innate worthiness as a friend, as a human being. I’d bent myself this way and that because I’d lacked the person whose validation mattered most: my own.

Photo by Shifa Sarguru on Unsplash

Lori Gottlieb, psychotherapist and the author of Maybe You Should Talk To Someone, sums it up best. “So many of our destructive behaviors take root in an emotional void, an emptiness that calls out for something to fill it.”

Which emotional voids needed to be filled within me? What was I so desperate for — or unaware of — that these patterns kept repeating themselves? How could I take greater ownership of what happened in my relationships, rather than deflecting the blame externally?

When Should a Friendship End?

Society has all sorts of advice about ending romantic relationships, but the domain of friendships remains fuzzy. For many of us, friendships are sacred. Often, our platonic relationships last years, decades, a lifetime if we’re lucky. So the thought of ending them, even if we no longer feel uplifted and nurtured, can seem out of the question.

Some friendships will naturally fade with time, distance, and the natural evolutions we undergo. Others, however, seem to stretch on though they no longer bring us joy. I believe the decision to end a friendship should always be discussed with a trustworthy — ideally objective — third-party person. But I also think that any friendship that’s become a source of ongoing stress — that doesn’t improve after attempts to discuss issues — should be reconsidered.

Friendships that are carried out from a sense of obligation aren’t true friendships. Our friends are meant to be our biggest cheerleaders while also trusting us to discuss their hardships and heartbreaks. They should respect our boundaries. Though there will be times when we give more of ourselves — after a death, divorce, illness, or other major loss — friendships should nourish us and not leave us drained.

Though I’ve had to end another friendship after the one with Leah a couple years back, I’d say that my friendships are overall the healthiest they’ve ever been. It’s taken a while, but I’m better at sensing when the vibe feels off. And I’m grateful to have many people in my life who provide an unconditional sense of stability and support. Still, I wish Leah well, as with all of my other former friends.

I haven’t discussed what it’s like to be on the receiving end of a platonic breakup because I can’t fully speak to that experience. But if you’ve been through — or are going through it — from the other side, I feel for you and hope you know that your side of the story matters, too.

May you be surrounded by abundant amounts of love. You deserve it.

Until next time,

Brina

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🌹Reflection

Take stock of your current friendships. How many of them make you feel seen, heard, and accepted as you are? Are there any that feel draining or as if they’re fading? What qualities do you admire most in your friends?

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🎨 Creativity Corner

• Article: “Platonic Breakups Can Be Necessary—Here’s How To Do It With Minimal Hurt Feelings, According to Relationship Experts” (I wrote this piece for Well+Good in 2022 after going through another platonic breakup and received plenty of helpful advice from mental health professionals)

• Poem: “Wild Geese” by Mary Oliver (I recently read this in a poetry class I’m taking and love the overall messages of acceptance and hope it conveys)

• Book: Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott (full of wit and tough love, this book offers loads of advice for writers from an esteemed author who’s just trying to figure it out herself)

• Song: “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac (a timeless favorite)

• YouTube Video: “The Lies of Modern Friendships, Social Anxiety and Loneliness” by Lana Blakely (wise, relatable, and thought-provoking reflections on the different types of friendship)

• Substack read: “The unspoken grief of when friendships end” by

  Nova Reid
  (this heartfelt piece touches on disenfranchised grief, the type of grief that society doesn’t acknowledge, which often accompanies platonic breakups)

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🐶 Prem’s Take on Friendship

“Everyone wants to be my friend. But if they’re not gonna give me cuddles or treats… no, thanks. Also, cats are an automatic ‘no.’ #sorrynotsorry”