More than Heartbreak

Why do friendships sometimes hurt more than romantic breakups? It’s a question I found myself asking after losing a best friend multiple times, once during the pandemic and again in my senior year of high school. I’ve had my share of romantic relationships, but when your best friend walks away, it feels different, deeper, and heartbreakingly personal. 

For one, we tend to hold our closest friends on a pedestal. They become the ultimate foundation of our social worlds because we seek out people who reflect parts of ourselves. Best friends know us on a deeper level without any romantic expectations, and they become like found family. Losing them is more than a breakup; it’s a rupture in the emotional support system we rely on. Best friends are the ones you share secrets with that you wouldn’t tell a partner. We gossip, laugh, make silly decisions, and fantasize together. Sure, you can do some of that with a romantic partner, but it’s not the same. At the end of the day, no one understands you like your bestie. 

During the pandemic, I learned the value of friendship the hard way. As isolation separated me from my best friend, her true nature began to reveal itself. What started as minor boy drama spiraled into something bigger, turning our squad against me. I felt betrayed, hurt, and foolish. We had grown up together, been inseparable, and even looked alike. However, we were going through life in very different ways. I questioned why I hadn’t seen the signs, convinced myself I was the bad person she made me out to be, and sank into a deep depression. It was one of the loneliest and darkest times I’ve ever known. Even years later, I still dread feeling that way again. 

Eventually, I matured and found a new best friend. We clicked instantly, and even though high school was rough, she made me feel like I always had someone in my corner. She was honest, calling me out when I needed it, and I realized how much I needed that kind of friendship. She wanted me to grow, not just be a temporary part of her life. But high school stress, college fears, and new relationships made things complicated. One day, she sent me a long message saying she didn’t want to be friends anymore. I was on the phone with my boyfriend, but I didn’t care. I cried uncontrollably, had a panic attack, and clung to every memory we shared, desperate to convince myself it wasn’t real. I pictured her as my maid of honor, the aunt to my future kids, the friend I’d grow old with. 

Thankfully, my mom encouraged me to ask for a face-to-face talk. If I really loved her, I had to fight for our friendship. So I did. I went to her house, listened to her side, apologized, and shared how important she was to me. I cried and admitted I hadn’t said it enough before. We realized we had taken each other for granted, assuming our friendship was unbreakable. We had secrets, gossip, and trauma between us, but we never communicated the things that hurt. Bottling it all nearly broke us. Writing this still hurts a little, but I’m so grateful she’s still in my life. In fact, I should call her.

I share this because, as painful as it is, many of us will face this kind of loss. So please, reflect on your friendships, friends, family, partners, and pets, and make sure they know you care. Losing someone while they’re still around hurts more than anything. Have the hard conversations, listen deeply, and be willing to change. 

Remember, not every friendship lasts forever, and that’s okay. People grow apart, especially as we figure out who we are and what we want. But if you want to keep someone in your life, it takes effort, such as reaching out, saying you miss them, and explaining why you’ve been distant. Friendship is work, but it’s the kind of work with doing.