In elementary school, my best friend and I made a promise that we would stay friends even until high school. Well, I’m in my second semester of senior year, and that friend is nowhere to be found.
Nine-year-old me would most certainly be crushed, but nine years later, while our friendship crosses my mind every once in a long while, I am no longer crushed.
You see, there’s the kind of change you wish upon yourself when you’re not satisfied with your appearance, like how I wished my black hair were blonde or brown or how I wished I were taller. And then, there’s the unexpected change that happens without you even realizing, the kind of change that friendships go through when you soon find yourself not looking for them in crowded rooms or when they stop reaching out first — when both your lives go on, and all you can do is reminisce and let go.
While my appearance remains the same, regardless of the color I dye my hair, my relationships seem to be susceptible to change.
I spent so much time trying to figure out the “why.” I felt so bothered that maybe it could have been my fault. And maybe a part of it was, but ultimately, the blame couldn’t be placed because I realized that no matter how hard you try to hold onto something, nothing is immune to change. We were no longer the people we were when we first became friends.
Some people are only meant to be in your life for a little bit. It could be to teach you a lesson or to help you become the best version of yourself. Either way, I had to come to terms with the fact that dwelling on what I lost instead of what I gained was only hurting myself.
Even though I no longer have some friends in my life, that doesn’t mean I have to forget all the good times we shared together, the laughs we had, and everything they taught me. Because losing them didn’t mean I had to lose myself as well. In fact, it allowed me to learn more about myself.
It even gave way to new friendships, allowing more space for people who genuinely care for me — friendships with people who are some of the closest in my life.
Outgrowing a friendship is a hard thing to put into words. It’s losing someone who once knew everything about you. It’s saying goodbye to small routines that felt like second nature. And it sometimes even means remembering them longer than you’ve known them.
This one loss — this one change — will continue to happen. But for me, consistency became a choice that I could make when change does happen: the choice to stay when things get hard, the choice to be there for my friends when it matters, the choice to be consistent in my relationships, but not to expect that consistency will stop change from happening.
Accepting change is a necessary process in our lives; while difficult, it’s something that I’ve learned to allow. My life looks a lot different from the way it did when I was nine — from the way I think to the people I surround myself with — but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I’ve allowed myself to grow, even if that meant outgrowing people.
