On Friendship
Do you think you’re a good friend?
When’s the last time you texted or called them? Said “I love you” or gave them a hug - like you really meant it? Have you shown up for them—exactly as they are—whether depressed, anxious, joyful, or confused? Have you leaned on them in your toughest moments? Talked it through when you’re frustrated with them?
I recently watched a conversation between Simon Sinek and Trevor Noah as they reflected on the lost art of friendship—the invaluable lessons of genuine connection, and how easily they slip away. As two successful men, they spoke about the values often lost in work: vulnerability, intimacy, and humanity.
In a society that demands production and measurable output, it’s easy to lose sight of the things that seem “less valuable.” Whether it’s work, family, doom-scrolling, or self-care, friendships are often first to the sacrifice. They absorb the weight of our overfilled schedules and the consequences of our depleted batteries.
I’ve personally felt this challenge. The space once filled with meaningful connection and intentional conversation has become full of work meetings and emails. I can’t help but pause and realize: I really miss getting to just be a friend.
“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art, like the universe itself (for God did not need to create). It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” - C.S. Lewis
—
As a relational therapist, I often consider how relationships can heal. Our early experiences of family and friendship can be rerouted through new, corrective experiences—ones that reshape how we see ourselves, what we believe we deserve, and how safe we feel letting others in. Sometimes, these new relationships mirror old patterns; other times, they gently (or not so gently) challenge them, offering a glimpse of something new and restorative.
—
My early friendships were often characterized by a complete confusion on how to truly be close to someone. I had one best friend through most of my teen years- 0ur names were more often heard in the same sentence than they were separately. She still holds some of my loudest laughs, biggest mistakes, and deepest embarrassments.
She once came to visit me in college as we talked about the ways our mistakes had harmed one another. She said to me something I will never forget. “I will always know that version of you better than anyone ever can. I’ll get to tell your kids about a version of you less polished, less figured out, more raw. That will always be a gift of our friendship.”
She offered me a time capsule to support a younger version of myself—compassion for not knowing all the answers, and the lesson that sometimes the most loving thing we can do is stay, even when it’s hard. Despite the pain and missteps our relationship has held, she showed me some of my earliest experiences of true repair—that relationships can come back from conflict.
—
It’s not uncommon for the pressure of these corrective experiences to fall squarely on romantic relationships. Culturally, we’re taught to expect that our partner should be everything: our best friend, lover, roommate, co-parent, confidant—the list goes on. But what I often notice clinically is that this expectation can quietly erode both the relationship and the self. When all our needs are funneled toward one person, we lose access to the wider web of connection that sustains us—the friends, colleagues, mentors, and communities that help us feel whole.
We lose the friends who notice when we’re straying from ourselves, even when we can’t see it. The friends who call us back home—to ourselves—and sit with us when we can’t find our way there. The friends we laugh with, cry with, and discover new parts of ourselves alongside.
—
So, what does it mean to be a good friend?
Maybe it starts with one text. A small moment of honesty. An invitation to reconnect.
If we treated friendship as sacred practice—as something that shapes and heals us as much as therapy, love, or work—how might our lives look different? What if tending to friendship was part of tending to ourselves?
Friendship, at its core, invites us to practice the skills that make all relationships possible—attunement, curiosity, repair, and trust. It reminds us that love doesn’t only belong to romance or family; it lives in the daily acts of seeing and being seen, knowing and being known.
Reflection Questions
How would your friends describe you?
How have your friendships changed over the years?
How do you know if someone else is a good friend?
What does it mean to you to be a good friend?
What is the value in friendship?
Do you think all friendships end? Why or why not?
Are there any feelings you’re holding against a friend that you should share with them? What comes up for you when you think about talking with them about it?
What’s one thing you could do to strengthen your friendships?
