Do Friendships Expire❓

This is a question that has chased me through so many seasons of my life. I find myself coming back to it, again and again, especially in moments of transition; after a move, after becoming a mom, or simply when I notice that the people I used to feel so close to suddenly feel like strangers.

I’ve often wondered: do friendships really expire? Or are they simply meant to last for certain periods of our lives, like seasons that come and go? Perhaps people enter our paths to serve a purpose, to teach us something, to walk with us during a specific chapter—and then, just as naturally as they appeared, they move on.

That realization can be painful. There are friendships you imagine will last forever, ones you want to hold onto tightly. But life has a way of showing us that not all relationships are meant to be permanent. And when we resist that truth, when we try to force a friendship to continue long after it has run its course, it can start to feel heavy. What once brought joy begins to feel like a burden. Little things that never used to bother you suddenly irritate you. You find yourself questioning whether the connection is still real, or if you’re just holding on to the memory of what once was.

Throughout my life, I’ve experienced both kinds of friendships: the ones that last decades and the ones that fade away. I still have a few childhood friends who, to this day, feel like home to me. I’ve also made sisters out of friendships formed in college. Those are precious. But if I’m honest, the majority of the people I’ve called “friends” at different times in my life have drifted away. Sometimes the separation came with pain. Sometimes it came with confusion, wondering if I had done something wrong, or if they had. And sometimes it just happened quietly, almost without notice, because our lives naturally went in different directions.

Recently, I’ve been reflecting on this even more deeply. There were friendships I once believed were unshakable, people I thought I would walk with for life. But lately, the connection is gone. Conversations that used to flow effortlessly now feel forced. Being around them feels draining instead of energizing. Instead of leaving with joy, I leave feeling empty. I notice how guarded I am with my words, how careful I feel I must be—because somehow, whatever I say seems to be wrong, and whatever I don’t say is wrong too. That’s not friendship anymore; that’s survival.

At my age, I also find myself asking: how does one even make new friendships at this stage of life? Real, meaningful ones—not just surface-level acquaintances, but friendships that go deep. Friendships that are not horizontal, where we stay on the same safe level, but vertical—where we help each other grow, question, explore, and reach higher. The kind that nourish the soul and challenge us to be better. Those are rare. And honestly, I sometimes wonder where to find them.

There was a time, a few years ago, when I thought I had found them. More than friends, I thought I had found a family. It happened in a church here in the U.S. At first, I gave my whole heart to those relationships. I opened myself up, longing for connection, especially as I was navigating the challenges of being a single mom. But over time, I noticed the truth: I was never fully embraced. Behind the smiles and the “God bless you’s,” there was always judgment. I was excluded from plans. Secrets were kept from me. I was quietly pushed to the side. And the most painful part was hearing hurtful comments about my status as a single mom, comments that left scars on my heart. For years I stayed, hoping things would change, hoping that if I gave more, they would finally accept me. But eventually, I realized: those “friendships” were not friendships at all. They were wounds disguised as community. So I chose to walk away, to leave them in peace, because holding onto them only made me feel smaller and more broken.

So here I am, still sitting with the question: do friendships expire? Maybe the better way to see it is this; friendships don’t always expire, but they do evolve. Some grow with us, others fall away. Some arrive like waves, refreshing and powerful, but then they recede back into the ocean. A rare few remain steady, like the shoreline itself.

The lesson, I think, is not to measure the worth of a friendship by its length, but by its depth while it lasts. Even the friendships that end teach us something. They help us grow, they reveal parts of ourselves, they accompany us for a season. And then, when it’s time, we have to learn to let them go; with gratitude for what they gave, and with peace that not all things are meant to be forever.

Because maybe friendships don’t truly “expire.” Maybe they simply do what they were always meant to do: they serve their season, they shape us, and then they release us into the next chapter of who we are becoming.

✨ At last, if our paths crossed, thank you. Thank you for the lessons, for walking with me through this crazy journey called life. Thank you for being there—whether it was only for a season or from day one until now. Thank you for your friendship. And above all, I hope I was a good friend to you too.