When A Friendship Fades: What To Do With All That Lingering Hurt

Sometimes we don’t get closure. That doesn’t mean we can’t find peace.

Photo by Flipsnack on Unsplash

The other day, I found myself checking and rechecking a text thread. I didn’t really understand why I kept repeatedly looking at the same brief conversation until I finally got very quiet and thought about it.

The thread was with a longtime friend who, over the past ten years, had increasingly dropped out of sight. She’d occasionally (and enthusiastically) suggest we make plans, only to disappear and ignore texts. For the past few years, despite my attempts to connect, she’d only reach out on holidays and birthdays with vague, check-the-box messages.

Last week, I received just such a text on my birthday:

“I know things aren’t great between us and that’s on me
but I’m wishing you a happy birthday and a happy, healthy year.”

Where to begin?

The compassionate side of my heart said, Be grateful! She reached out! It’s an olive branch! Don’t judge! You don’t know what she’s got going on… She’s probably doing what she’s able…

But the hurt side of my heart? I’m not proud, but it kept asking, Seriously? She’s assuaging her guilt by sending you 23 words on your birthday? How many more crumbs are you willing to take?

Being the word nerd I am, I picked her sentence apart.

“I know things aren’t great…” (Hey! An acknowledgement!)
“…and that’s on me…” (Do I sense an apology coming?)
“…but…” (There it is. The ultimate invalidator.)
“…I’m wishing you a happy birthday and a happy, healthy year.” (Sounds breezy. Almost like we’re still close.)

I didn’t want to analyze the language—but I couldn’t stop. She admitted the distance, offered no explanation, then closed with faux-normalcy.

Was I being too critical? Overthinking? Why did this message still have such a hold on me?

I let it go. For a day.

Then a week passed, and there I was again—re-reading, re-checking, scanning for clues.

Why??

Photo by Tim Mossholder on Unsplash

So, today, I decided to do a little sleuthing, and what I found gave me some peace of mind. Maybe you’ll find it helpful, too.

What’s Up With The Checking Behavior?

Turns out, it’s not just me.

That checking/rechecking loop is a stress response—a nervous system stuck trying to make sense of what doesn’t make sense. It’s often triggered by:

• Ambiguous loss (like when friendships just…end without explanation)

• Powerlessness (feeling ghosted or blindsided)

• Perfectionism (Could I have done something differently?)

• Hypervigilance (bracing for more hurt)

Instead of shaming yourself if you spiral (as I did), consider this:
That urge to check is your brain saying, “I want to feel safe and certain again.”

Here’s how to help it do that. Instead of shaming yourself for checking, reframe it as your brain saying: “I want to feel safe and certain again.” And then ask: How else can I give myself that safety and certainty?

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3 Ways to Break the Loop

Once I realized I was stuck in a thought loop, I could start the process of addressing it. I learned some practical ways we can support our minds and our hearts in situations like this.

1. Create a “Hard Folder” or Digital Archive

Move any painful text threads into a folder marked something like “PAST.” You can even screenshot and save them to a document with a note at the top that says:

“These messages hurt me, but they do not define me. I’ve acknowledged the pain and I’m choosing to move forward.”

Then delete the threads from your phone. You’re not erasing history—you’re creating boundaries.

2. Set a Timer for Grief

If the feelings come up, let them. The harder we resist tough feelings, the more power they tend to have. Stop playing tug-o-war with your feelings and, instead, let yourself experience them, raw as they are. The key is to give yourself a container—say, 10 minutes. Feel your feelings fully. Journal, cry, rage, punch a pillow, walk fast. Then, take a breath and do something sensory to ground yourself (tea, music, a candle, a dog snuggle).

3. Give Your Sadness a Character

I found that this can be surprisingly powerful. Name the sad, looping part of you—maybe “Tender me” or “Young me” or “Truth Seeker.” Let her speak, then let Present me gently respond with strength, love, and boundaries.

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And Please: Don’t Always Assume You’re the Problem

Yes, it’s important to reflect on your part in any conflict. But also: Some people simply don’t have the emotional tools—or willingness—to do the hard, honest work of connection.

When someone avoids the discomfort you’re willing to face, it’s not a reflection of your worth.

Sometimes, we’re not just mourning a person—we’re grieving the potential of the relationship that never was.

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What I’ve Decided

I’m not “crazy” for checking that thread. I was seeking answers.

Now, I’ve archived it. I’ve named the pain. I’ve honored it.

And, I’ve since replied:

Thanks for the birthday wishes.
I’ve worked really hard to move forward from the pain of our silence, and it hasn’t been easy. I’m being very intentional about who and what I let into my life right now.
Wishing you peace.

Your Turn

Have you ever had a friendship slowly fall apart—and not known what to do with the ache?

Did you try to revive it? Archive it? Analyze it to death?

How did you find peace?

I’d love to hear your story. Comment below, or hit reply if this is landing in your inbox. Let’s hold space for one another—and for the friendships we’re learning to let go.