Finding friends after 50 is a lot harder than I thought it would be.

In 7th grade, my best friend, Tammy, dumped me.

She did it via a classroom note, passed to me by a boy named Chris. Back then, we folded notes in little triangles tucked into themselves to ensure they would not be read by anyone but the intended recipient.

Chris had a knowing smirk when he handed it over.

I carefully unfolded the spiral-bound page: “Amy and I are best friends now. We don’t want you to be our friend anymore.”

I was crushed. It was my first real friend blow.

To make matters worse, I knew that since Chris was already aware of my BFF breakup, this decision had been discussed within our entire friend group. I would now have to do some high-level 7th-grade politicking to understand if this was just a breakup between Tammy and me, or the entire group of friends I’d spent all year cultivating. It was almost summer, and I didn’t want to enter my 8th-grade year as an outsider.

It was some serious business.

Life went on, of course, and since then, I’ve made lots of friends and even managed to keep a few.

Now that I’m an empty nester, I’ve got more time on my hands and am looking for new relationships to fill the spaces where my children used to be.

I know other women my age are feeling this too.

It seems we all emerge from a stupor, dazed and confused from decades of child-rearing. Coming out of the parenting cave, shaking off the dust and squinting into the light of a new world we’d now inhabit without children underfoot.

Of course, I had friends in the child-rearing era. There were the mom friends, other moms whose kids were doing the same things at the same time as mine. It made it easy, and we needed each other.

Then there are the old groups—my high school and college friends—whom I may or may not have kept up with, but might have time to do so now.

Making friends was so easy back then.

I’ve lost friends because I stopped drinking. I’ve lost others because I stopped going to church. Nothing major happened between us, but I put my energy toward other things, and suddenly there wasn’t a lot holding us together.

I’m ok with that, honestly.

There are a handful of friends I don’t see often but can pick back up with like we’ve never skipped a beat—but they are not my day-to-day ride or die.

A deep sadness lingers for friends who have slipped away, right through my fingers. They spilled out into their own containers, gone before I even knew what was happening.

Leaving me wondering about this waxing and waning cycle of friends.

Is it life? Or circumstances?

Is it them? Or me?

Like our kids, we are all moving up and out into new spaces, but without the newness of life. Because things aren’t new for us, we’ve been here before, just not in these bodies.

There’s excitement, but there’s also a weird feeling of knowing that this is the beginning of the end, maybe? I’m not sure.

At least we’ve made it this far.

I’m at a point in life where I don’t need friends, but I do want friends.

Maybe this is when you’re supposed to bond more closely with your sisters, except I don’t have sisters, so…

It’s a real conundrum.

When we moved to New York over a year ago, I knew very few people here, and most of those were people I hadn’t seen or talked to in years. I connected with them - seeing a familiar face in a new city felt so comforting.

Since then, I’ve done a lot and met some wonderful people—some of the most generous and kind people. But no one calls me asking to go to dinner, or coffee, or whatever—you know what I mean? If I have dinner with a potential friend, I’m the one asking.

I long to have someone to laugh with, share my struggles with, and help me make sense of this crazy world, like only a close girlfriend can.

To throw it all on the table and exclaim - this is who I am!

And have it taken in and cherished because that’s what they need too.

My quest for emotional healing limits the pool, and I get that—it’s harder for me to have superficial relationships, so I don’t seek those out. I need people on the same path as me, and not everyone prioritizes their life the way I do.

Many years ago, when I told my mom I was going ‘all in’ on codependency recovery, she said, “I hope you’ll be okay, having just a few friends.” She was right.

I wasn’t concerned then, because I had those few friends. But now, we’ve kind of moved on with our own lives—we all live in different cities, doing other things, and we don’t connect much.

I miss them.

I thought making and keeping friends at this life stage would be easier - that I would find my people and have them stick. I realize I’ve taken my friendships for granted, as if there would always be a constant supply at the ready.

Am I asking too much? Or -

Is it life? Or circumstances - or them? Or me?

I’m not quite sure.

Just so you know, middle school me went on to make other friends that summer and the following year. Tammy, Amy, and I reconnected in high school, where all three of us were quite close - and they are still friendly acquaintances to this day - they have no recollection of the 7th grade incident, but I will never forget it. ❤️

What has been your experience of friendship after 50?

LYLAS -

S