Dear Therapist,

For 20 years, I have made an effort to reach out to two close friends from high school. I’ve texted to make plans whenever I’ve visited our hometown (none of us lives in the same place). I’ve sent Christmas cards. Our families all know one another. Sometimes I’ve visited my friends’ parents when I’ve passed their houses while walking my parents’ dog. Everyone’s life moves on, but I caught up with my friends when I could. These were old friends, people I could fall back into sync with even after years because of our shared history. Or so I thought.

Last year I found out that one friend I’ll call Jess was getting married when I saw the wedding invitation on the coffee table at my other friend’s house. The invited friend (I’ll call her Jane) told me the wedding was very small. I felt left out, of course, but I let it go.  

Jane got engaged a few months later. The wedding is in four months, but I haven’t been invited. I invited both Jess and Jane to my own wedding five years ago. Neither one came, and at the time I didn’t think anything of it. People are busy, and they would have had to travel.  

Now it seems to me that these women who I thought were my friends—close friends!—just weren’t that interested in my wedding, or apparently in me either. It seems certain that Jess will attend Jane’s wedding, just as Jane attended Jess’s last year. And neither one invited me. Or even made an excuse about whatever the constraints (if any) were. Even a lie would have been a gesture.  

I feel like I stepped onto an elevator and there was no floor. I am devastated. I thought my formative years were characterized by supportive relationships that had stood the test of time. But I was wrong. My friends moved on. They kept each other in their orbits and forgot all about me.  

I have never really had “friend drama” and it won’t be starting now, either, because I’m not asking any questions about this. There is nothing either of them can say to mollify me. Their actions speak for themselves.

When you read the midlife-friendship advice columns, they’re all about “Reach out! Be the one to make plans! Don’t keep score!” I reached out. I was flexible. I didn’t take things personally. It didn’t work. I’ve been dumped by my friends. And you can’t make new old friends.

Anonymous

Dear Anonymous,

You write that nothing your friends might say would mollify you because you feel that their actions speak for themselves. But because you wrote to me about your distress, I’d like to offer another perspective.

The short version is: I suspect that your assumptions about these friendships aren’t quite accurate—and it’s these assumptions, more than what your friends have done, that are causing you to be in such great pain.

Let me explain. I understand how excluded you feel, and how not being invited to either of their weddings made you question the decades-long bond you believed you shared. In your mind, you were a good friend who nurtured these relationships, and you made a consistent effort to show how much you valued having these women in your life. Now, however, not being invited to their weddings makes you wonder if your friendships were a sham, and if the warmth you felt toward these women has been, unbeknownst to you, completely unreciprocated.

Of course, the sting of being left out is human and understandable. But the larger meaning you’ve attached to normal feelings of rejection is getting in the way of seeing the full and nuanced scope of these friendships clearly.

Let’s back up and consider some context. I don’t know what your dynamics with these women were like in high school, but in any friend group, and especially groups of three, typically not everyone will be equally close. Some people just connect more naturally with each other, and these differing levels of connection don’t make the other friendships in the group less worthwhile. The fact that you have all kept in touch for the 20 years since graduation is a testament to the strength of the connections that you do share. Someone can like you very much but not feel as close to you as she does to someone else, and that shouldn’t in any way diminish your relationship and the enjoyment that this long friendship brings to your life.

Even if you were all equally close when you were younger, many friendships change after high school for a variety of reasons: distance, different interests, life paths that leave you having less in common. Much of what bonded you as teenagers—shared experiences, mutual friends, similar daily routines—might not be relevant anymore, or enough to keep a friendship together. But yours have endured, just in a new form.

It sounds like you understood and felt comfortable with the changing nature of friendships when neither Jane nor Jess came to your wedding. Perhaps you were disappointed not to see them but, as you said, you “didn’t think anything of it.” You didn’t react the way you’re reacting now, which is to question your entire friendship with both of them. At the time, you were probably more concerned about whether people more active in your adult life would be there to celebrate with you, so the absence of your high-school friends didn’t devastate you.

Learning that you weren’t invited to their weddings changed your perspective retroactively. You interpreted this to mean that they lacked interest not only in being at your wedding, but also in you as a person. I’d like you to challenge that assumption. There’s no evidence that Jess and Jane don’t want to be your friend or that they’ve “forgotten all about you”—in fact, you were visiting with Jane at her home when you saw Jess’s invitation. If these women didn’t want a friendship with you, they wouldn’t see you at all. You say you’ve been “dumped” by your friends, but they haven’t gone anywhere.

You’re also assuming that because they didn’t explain why you weren’t invited—you say you’d even be more satisfied with a lie—this means they don’t care about you. I want to suggest instead that they might have avoided mentioning not inviting you in order to spare your feelings—because you do matter to them. Similarly, when you saw the invitation to Jess’s wedding, Jane explained that it was a small wedding so you would understand that this wasn’t a rejection. Wedding guest lists can be tremendously difficult to navigate, and with two extended families and friends on both sides, lines have to be drawn such that people will inevitably be excluded.

The part you’re having trouble with is acknowledging that there are different kinds of “close” friends. Some are considered close because you came together at a formative time in your life, and nothing can replicate that bonding experience. Others are close because you’re involved in one another’s lives in a significant way in the present. Still others are close because despite seeing one another only every few years or decades, you easily pick up where you left off.

You’re right that “you can’t make new old friends,” but you don’t have to. Sure, you could declare the friendships over and pull away because you’re hurt, but that doesn’t sound like what any of you want. Instead, now is a good time to look at the big picture over these 20 years, consider what you value in these friendships and want for their future, and share that. You might say to one or both of these friends, “I’m thrilled that you’ve found your partner, and I’d really love to meet your new spouse next time we’re in the same town.” Or: “I know you’re not able to invite me to your wedding, but I’d still love to be a part of your life in the future, and it would mean a lot to be included in celebrating whichever milestones make sense as our families grow.”

In doing so, you’d be nurturing these friendships by having the flexibility to accept that friendships are fluid over time.

Clearly, these women matter to you, and I believe you matter to them. Right now the only thing standing between you and these friendships is your own hesitancy to embrace them.

Dear Therapist is for informational purposes only, does not constitute medical advice, and is not a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician, mental-health professional, or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. By submitting a letter, you are agreeing to let The Atlantic use it—in part or in full—and we may edit it for length and/or clarity.