Grief is an odd acquaintance. It tends to arrive uninvited, unwanted, and unprompted, but can also introduce you to some of the most soul-altering truths. It’s a face I’d recognize easily at a funeral or in a devastating breakup text. But somewhere between a recent self-discovery spiral and a late-night listening of Taylor Swift’s Midnights album, grief has shown up for me in a much quieter, less obvious form: outgrowing childhood friends.
These aren’t the school friends you shared one traumatic group project with, but the deeply innocent ones. You know, the ones tied together by matching best friend necklaces and Silly Bandz bracelets (ah, the nostalgia). Where backyard confessions on a trampoline were some sacred secret, and telling each other everything felt so easy. I grew up believing those kinds of connections were unshakable—until randomly, without intention, they were.
You try to stay in touch throughout the awkward pimple-patch-less years of adolescence and anxiety-riddled adulthood, but somewhere down the line, texts sit unanswered for a little longer, the conversations lose their spark, and the views you once shared now stand on total opposite ends of the spectrum. You’ve changed in all of the best ways a growing person can, but now, your new foundation has cost you old friends.
It’s a bittersweet truth I hadn’t really thought about—and one I probably wouldn’t have, if it weren’t also for an awkward run-in with these old faces. Nevertheless, the feelings of the encounter hit me right in the face and forced me to reflect on outgrowing childhood friends. So, now it’s here, with you, that I’m diving into what it continues to teach me about identity, adult friendship, and self-discovery.
What outgrowing childhood friends has taught me
Losing them doesn’t mean you’re losing yourself
Falling out of childhood friendships is a kind of ache that feels utterly familiar to those other reckonings with grief, but in a way that still isn’t talked about enough. It has all the emotions of heartbreak and loss, but with a much quieter presence that never really announces itself until it’s already changed you. It isn’t just about outgrowing a friend; it’s also about losing the purest versions of yourself in the process.
“Growth will always cost you something, and sometimes that cost is the painful loss of friends who once knew you most.”
I grew up in a very conservative family. It shaped literally everything—my values, my friends, my weekend activities, even my hobbies. But as I grew older and ventured from home for the first time, something shifted. The world looked different, my weekends looked different, and suddenly, my friendships did too. The people I grew up with—the ones I once shared everything with—now felt so far from where I was standing. And underneath it all, I carried this heavy, unshakable guilt for letting that happen.
Maybe making friends is easier as kids because our sense of self is still being molded—there’s nothing really to get in the way. But as my path started to solidify, some friendships started to feel awkward to keep up with. My values started shifting, and the friendships started to feel less natural and less safe than they used to. Hanging out with them now felt like revisiting an older version of myself that didn’t really want to be visited anymore. It was like driving past my old high school or finding pictures of my haunting Bieber side bangs phase—horrific. It wasn’t really that my friends were the problem; it was more the friction between the person I used to be with them, and the person I am now.
Falling out doesn’t make you selfish
It’s taken me a lot of time to accept that drifting apart wasn’t a failure, but rather something inevitably human. Someone once told me that grief is a symptom of leaving a part of you behind. Outgrowing friends isn’t a selfish rejection—it’s a reflection of you coming into your own. Grief carries growing pains. And even if the ache of it lingers, I try to remind myself it’s OK and not selfish to continue to choose myself in the process. Growth will always cost you something, and sometimes that cost is the painful loss of friends who once knew you most.
I never expected that an attempt to heal myself would also mean losing childhood friends, but sometimes it just does. And yes, it sucks when self-discovery puts people you loved in the crossfire of your first therapy session or newly discovered passions. But, honestly, it’s more exhausting to fake it than it is to resist the grief you’ll inevitably feel. And grief, as much as it hurts, has a sneaky way of evolving you in the long run.
“It wasn’t really that my friends were the problem; it was more the friction between the person I used to be with them, and the person I am now.”
Of course, it’s easy for me to say “but it’s OK” than to feel it undoubtedly—especially when I’m still forced to run into these old friends from time to time (nothing like passing the salt to your former bestie at a dinner party!! fun!!). In an ideal world, I could move on unattached. But maybe the even bigger shift is learning to face those old versions of myself without flinching. Maybe that’s its own kind of therapy.
Nostalgia can bring you peace
Growing up with friends who knew you inside and out is one of life’s sweetest experiences. The cringeworthy music video reenactments with zero awareness of anxiety—magical. Those basement dance parties where our most unfiltered selves thrived—spiritual. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever experience a friendship that pure again, and that truth carries its own kind of grief. But it also carries a nostalgia that is sweet to revisit through conversation and awkward duck face selfies I’ll randomly find on my phone.
The memory of it—and the person I was in those friendships—brings a quiet kind of peace that’s just as soft as the grief itself. The late-night gossip, the innocent confidence we hyped each other into, still lingers in unexpected ways. Some days it sneaks up on me in the form of a Taylor Swift Midnights session at 1 a.m. while I have my moment of enlightenment, and the urge to dance around my bedroom feels like revisiting that old sisterhood I once knew. Even if things look different now, I like to think of the nostalgia itself as a gift that’s just as precious as the friendship once was.
How I’m healing while fostering new friendships
Reminding myself that newer friendships are a reflection of growth
New friendships don’t necessarily replace the ones I outgrew, but they do reflect the person I’m becoming, and the girl I bravely left to be her. Leaning into more connections that inspire and support me can be a healthy way of honoring that personal growth journey, while also building a community that feels more authentic and energizing to who I am now.
“New friendships don’t necessarily replace the ones I outgrew, but they do reflect the person I’m becoming, and the girl I bravely left to be her.”
Whether it’s trying a new workout class, joining a running club, or any other new hobby that bring me random spirts of joy, I try to remind myself that the more I invest in things that lights me up, the more I’ll attract new kinds of people who might inspire, challenge, and support me in ways that better align with my values.
Resisting the pull back to my past self
If you’re like me, running into old friends you’ve outgrown is pretty much inevitable. And sometimes, when I do see them, that muscle memory kicks in. I will catch myself laughing at the same jokes or muting parts of who I am now just to keep things familiar.
But noticing that autopilot response is half the battle for me. The other half is resisting it, even when it feels super awkward (and it always does), to avoid slipping back into an old version of myself. For example, instead of trying to pretend I still love being super outdoorsy or that I still go to church, I try to be honest in a way that fosters a mutual respect. My answers to any questions they might ask about what I have been up to don’t have to erase the bond we had, but I also don’t have to shrink myself down just to keep the old flame alive, either.
Giving myself time to form connections that are just as deep
I do believe there’s an innocence in childhood friendships that just can’t be replicated, but outgrowing them doesn’t mean you lose the chance for a deep connection with a friend altogether. Being open to new people who see me, elevate me, and respect my current values is an exciting flex of growth. It may take time to meet and connect with people in that unfiltered way we know with childhood friends, but I’m OK with that. I know that when I do find those people, it will be no less special—and often, even more grounding as an adult.
Madigan Will, Assistant Editor
As an Assistant Editor for The Everygirl, Madigan writes and edits content for every topic under the digital media sun. As the oldest of four siblings, she enjoys utilizing her big sister persona to connect and inspire readers—helping them discover new ways to maximize their everyday.
