Friendship is something we’re rarely taught how to grieve. We’re told it should last, that history counts for everything, that the people who’ve known us the longest will always be there. And when friendships end – especially in midlife – the loss can feel confusing, destabilising and deeply personal.
This piece is based on my own experience. I’m sharing it for neurodivergent women who may be quietly questioning themselves after friendships have changed, drifted or broken down during menopause, recovery or other major life transitions.
When long-term friendships begin to shift
Long-term friendships often feel secure because they’ve survived time. Shared memories create a sense of permanence and safety. But as we move through midlife, the demands placed on friendships increase. Hormonal changes, identity shifts, loss, diagnosis and recovery all ask relationships to stretch.
Psychology consistently links friendship with improved mental health, but the quality of connection matters more than longevity. Some friendships adapt as we change. Others struggle when the version of us they were built around no longer exists.
That doesn’t make those friendships false or meaningless. It simply reflects the reality that relationships are shaped by who we are at the time we form them.
Sobriety and the quiet reshaping of social life
Choosing to live a sober life altered my friendships in ways I didn’t anticipate. Some people felt uncomfortable. Invitations slowed and then stopped. Social rituals changed, and the ease that alcohol once provided disappeared. Looking back, I can see that alcohol had been doing a lot of the connecting. Without it, some friendships had little left to sustain them. Letting those connections go didn’t always hurt, especially when drinking had become the main bond.
At the same time, recovery brought new friendships with people who understood honesty, vulnerability and growth. These connections were rooted in truth rather than performance, and they felt different in my body – steadier, safer, more real.
If friendships have changed since you stopped drinking, that isn’t a personal failing. Sobriety often reveals which connections were built on shared habits and which were built on shared values.
Menopause and the unmasking no one prepares you for
Menopause affected far more than my body. Memory, focus, emotional regulation and resilience all shifted. The coping strategies I’d relied on for years began to unravel.
For neurodivergent women, menopause can expose traits that were previously masked. Forgetting plans, showing up at the wrong place, miscommunications and emotional sensitivity can suddenly become visible. Internally, this often brings shame and self-doubt. Externally, it can be misread as carelessness or lack of effort.
Friendships can feel strained during this phase, particularly when understanding and patience aren’t mutual. If you found relationships harder to maintain during menopause, you are not imagining it. Your capacity was changing, and that matters.
Neurodivergence and the hidden rules of friendship
Many neurodivergent women care deeply about being good friends. We invest emotionally, value honesty and assume openness is safe. What we’re often missing are the unspoken rules that govern adult friendships – rules about consistency, flexibility, reassurance and repair that are rarely articulated.
When those rules are unknowingly broken, the fallout can feel sudden and bewildering. It’s common to replay interactions, to search for the moment everything went wrong, and to conclude that we are somehow the problem. Sometimes there is learning to be done. Sometimes misunderstandings sit on both sides. Sometimes two people are simply overwhelmed at the same time. Caring deeply and struggling socially can exist together. Questioning your ability to be a good friend often reflects how much you value connection, not a lack of it.
The friendship that hurts the most
Some friendships fade quietly. One of mine ended in a way that broke my heart.
This was the friend who had seen me at my best and my worst. The highs, the lows, the confessions and the shared truths. We could speak freely, without fear of judgement or offence. I believed there was nothing unsayable between us.
The timing made the loss harder. I was navigating menopause, newly diagnosed ADHD, medication changes, bereavement and the vulnerability of launching a business. I was sensitive and raw. She was struggling too, though in ways she chose not to share with me.
I grieved deeply. I talked it through in therapy, with friends and family. I analysed everything. I searched for certainty and closure that never fully came.
Not all friendships end with clear explanations. Sometimes both people are stretched beyond capacity. Sometimes silence grows where conversation once lived. That doesn’t erase what was real or meaningful about the bond.
A smaller circle and lingering doubt
In midlife, many women find their social circles becoming smaller. Energy shifts, tolerance narrows and priorities change. I now have a small group of friends and acquaintances, each valued in different ways.
And still, doubt can creep in. Do they genuinely like me? Are they staying in touch out of obligation or kindness? Would they choose me if they didn’t feel they should?
These thoughts are common after rejection, loss and years of masking. They are often signs of nervous system fatigue rather than truth. Being hurt doesn’t mean you are unlovable or difficult. It means something mattered.
What I’ve come to believe
I no longer think friendship is defined by how long someone stays. I think it’s defined by whether a connection can hold honesty, change and repair. Whether it allows space for who we are becoming. Whether it feels emotionally safe rather than emotionally effortful.
Some friendships cannot make that journey. Losing them hurts. Grieving them is necessary, and it doesn’t mean you failed.
If you are a neurodivergent woman navigating menopause, sobriety or profound life change, you are not broken at friendship. You are adapting to a new season of yourself. And not everyone will be able to meet you there.
A gentle invitation
If this resonates, you’re not alone. Many women are quietly carrying grief around friendships that mattered deeply and ended without resolution. Sometimes the most healing thing is realising that your experience makes sense. So please talk about it; connect with people who understand or with a coach or therapist who understands the challenges of midlife and neurodivergence.
If you’d like to explore how working with me could provide you with the space you need to make sense of your own experiences, please book in with me for a free discovery call.