I lost three friendships in my adulthood, and the experience has collectively created a sense of indifference in me.

The emotional implications of entering friendships and watching them crumble has thoroughly made me question if adulthood friendships are actually worthwhile. 

Friendship failure #1

The first failed friendship was with a girl named Amy who I connected with when I first moved to Las Vegas. We had a few mutual friends from college and we lived 10 minutes apart.

We enjoyed going to going out together and having dinners together.

We bonded over our similar body insecurities and the fact that our dating lives were incredibly toxic at the time.

But sometimes, I felt overwhelmed in the friendship because she needed constant attention and validation.

She would get upset with me if I took too long to text back or if I made plans with other people.

Dealing with her clingy and needy tendencies was draining me, so I started distancing myself.

It all blew up one night when I was supposed to join her for another typical evening at a nightclub.

I made plans to meet another friend later on that night, and Amy didn’t appreciate that I “double booked” myself.

My intention was to spend a couple of hours with Amy before leaving for my other plans.

Keep in mind that we were 24 years old, living in Las Vegas. My typical evening plans ranged anywhere from 10 pm until 3 in the morning. I could have easily split my night. Still, she was furious with me.

The night ended badly, and I drastically pulled back from the friendship at that point. I think she felt me pulling back too because she matched my energy.

We exchanged super dry “Merry Christmas” texts when the holidays rolled around a few months later, just to be polite.

It was obvious that the friendship was over.

We never outright said we were done hanging out with each other – but we never made plans to see each other again. And that was the end of it.

Friendship failure #2

The second failed friendship was with a girl named Hannah. I met her while planning my wedding when I was 27.

She owned a jewelry business and we first connected when I started shopping for wedding day pieces about a year before my wedding day.

We vibed so amazingly that every time we got together, we had the best and deepest conversations about self-improvement, spirituality, personal growth, and more.

A couple months into our friendship, she asked me if I’d be a brand ambassador for her business by posting content on social media while wearing her custom jewelry.

She told me she’d gift me the prettiest pieces of jewelry for FREE every month until my wedding day, as long as I was willing to talk about her jewelry collection on social media so her business would gain more traction.

Of course I agreed, and I was extremely excited about it!

As my wedding day got closer, I contemplated if I should ask her to be one of my bridesmaids because we had grown so close.

However, I ultimately didn’t ask her because I already had eight bridesmaids in my wedding lineup, which felt like a lot.

After the wedding, our hangout sessions started dwindling, primarily because I was no longer posting jewelry content to promote her business.

I still tried to invite her to a few hangout sessions every once in a while, but about six months after the wedding, she started completely ignoring all of my text messages.

I wasn’t quite sure why it was happening, but I came to the conclusion that she might’ve been uncomfortable about some of the “unapologetically childfree” content I was posting on social media.

For more context, I decided I wanted to live a childfree lifestyle and I’ve been open and honest about my journey and mindset.

I’ve never taken digs against others who choose to become parents, but I can see how some of my content might rub parents the wrong way.

My thoughts have always been that if I can support my friends who’ve become parents, why can’t they support me for choosing to remain childfree?

I dole out likes, comments, and support to my friends who post pics of their kids on social media. But when I post childfree content, that sentiment simply isn’t returned.

Since Hannah is a mother, I questioned if my childfree content made her feel too uncomfortable to associate with me anymore.

I also post content praising my husband, because although we’ve had our fair share of issues over the years, he’s always been a loyal and loving partner to me.

Our finances have fluctuated BIG TIME, but he makes sure the bills are paid, he buys me flowers consistently, he pays for my spa treatments, and more.

He opens my car doors, he takes me on date nights, and he shows an interest in things I’m passionate about.

I’ve been told that when I post about him on social media, I occasionally come across as “braggy.”

The reality is that I spent a long time praying and manifesting to end up with a man like my husband – and I’m excited to reveal my excitement about him to the world.

Our marriage is FAR from perfect, but sharing some of the highlights is something that brings me tons of joy.

I questioned if the content I was posting about my husband was rubbing Hannah the wrong way also.

That’s because I started noticing that she was seeing my posts on social media without liking any of them.

Her name would pop up as a viewer, but she wasn’t liking, commenting, or supporting anything I posted — and that felt awkward and cringy to me.

It felt like she was looking at me, solely to JUDGE me without supporting anything… so I removed her as a follower.

It wasn’t just with my childfree or husband content she was doing this with, either. It was everything I posted for a good few weeks before I removed her.

I never got closure about why she decided to ghost me.

From my perspective, I was grateful beyond words that Hannah offered me so many pieces of free jewelry in preparation for my wedding.

I wanted to maintain my friendship with her because her generosity meant the world during my otherwise stressful wedding planning era.

She was someone I could trust. She was someone I turned to when I needed to vent about drama with my fiance, wedding cost shenanigans, family disputes, and beyond.

But something I did or said (whether it was about the childfree content or something else) turned her off from wanting to text me back. It still makes me sad to think about.

Friendship failure #3

The third semi-failed friendship was with a girl named Jillian who I met at crochet club.

When I was 28, I signed up for crochet classes at the library. One of the first girls I connected with at crochet club was Jillian, and we hit it off after our first conversation.

We were both passionate about crocheting, and we described the different clothes and accessories we wanted to make. Her artistic talent inspired me greatly.

We met for drinks at a lounge inside Red Rock Casino and ended up sharing the most in-depth conversation for four or five hours one night.

I genuinely don’t think I’ve ever energetically or emotionally connected with someone as deeply as I connected with Jillian that night.

Her life experiences, our shared belief in the Law of Attraction, and our mutual passion for expressing ourselves through the art of crocheting made me feel like I was in the right place at the right time to meet her.

Our friendship only continued snowballing in a beautiful direction for about a year — until the 2024 election.

I myself am a Soulaani woman who grew up in a predominantly white suburban neighborhood in California.

I’m well-versed in reading the vibes that emerge while being friends with white people.

Over the years, I’ve learned how to field micro-aggressions, and I’ve developed discernment about who actually has my best interest.

I had zero doubt in my mind that Jillian would vote in the interest of human rights since I saw her as a loving and thoughtful girl with the biggest heart ever.

After all, she was my friend.

However, I uncovered that she voted in a way I didn’t expect AT ALL in the 2024 election.

This revelation was especially painful because it felt like she – and half the country – voted in support of a convicted felon who openly disrespects women and blatantly hates people of color.

On top of that, I kept seeing the same resounding message from others on social media… “You can’t say you love someone and then vote for people who will hurt them.”

Those words kept bouncing around my head.

Voting blue in this election meant you voted to fight back against oppression, sexism, racism, bigotry, selfishness, close-mindedness, and non-progressive thinking.

Voting red meant the opposite. Red voters co-signed with the country being led by a convicted felon who ragingly disrespects women and boldly hates people of color. The reality of that is quite sickening and disturbing.

When I spoke to Jillian directly about her vote, I felt her individual reasons for voting the way she did were valid.

We agreed to maintain our friendship, despite our differing political views.

However, the feeling in the pit of my stomach that churns with sadness, disappointment, and disgust has never fully gone away.

I feel disillusioned when I think of her. I feel jaded.

Deep down, I love her as my friend, of course.

Still, it’s been challenging (if not completely impossible) for me to look at her the same as I once did.

Peaceful about minimizing my adulthood social circle

Now, at 29 years old, my perception of friendship isn’t what it once was. I question if it ever will be again.

Presently, I feel peaceful about NOT exerting my energy in different directions with various people all the time. This way, I don’t necessarily have to worry about being disappointed anymore.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned to find beauty and peace in isolation because I genuinely adore my own company. 

I’m married, and I love hanging out with my husband, but I also REALLY find joy in doing my own thing. 

When I was younger, I feared the idea of minimizing my social circle and losing out on having a friend group.

Now, I revel in the idea of it.

I appreciate staying snuggled and warm in my bed while scrolling on TikTok and BlueSky.

I love going to local coffee shops with free Wi-Fi and yummy pastries where I can write articles, novels, and poetry on my laptop.

I love taking myself to dance class. I love spending time at the beach and watching the sunset.

I love binge-watching shows that are interesting to ME without worrying about anyone else’s input on which show I should turn on.

I love ordering my favorite foods and desserts without worrying about someone else’s cravings.

I love going to events and leaving as soon as I’m personally ready without checking in with friends about an agreed-upon time that we can leave together.

I love blasting my favorite music and singing at the top of my lungs in solitude without changing the song based on someone else’s preferences.

These are things I absolutely adore when I’m solo and enjoying my own lovely company.

I know that having solid friendships is a beautiful thing, but I also enjoy living life on my own terms without focusing on inviting friends to be part of every little thing I do. 

After seeing three friendships (that I poured my heart and soul into) crumble before my eyes in my twenties, finding peace in my minimized social circle has become a more exceptional way to live.