The Journal | 06 January 2026

A close friend of mine had started ignoring my messages in a WhatsApp group we share with other friends. I sensed something was off. The energy felt different. We’d had a bit of a falling out the last time we saw each other, but I thought we’d resolved it.

Still, every time I noticed his silence, it gave me a small pang of anxiety. That low-level knowing that something isn’t right.

Eventually I decided to message him directly and ask if everything was okay.
He replied quickly. He said that over the last year we’d grown apart. That we wanted different things from life. That we saw the world differently. He said there were things I’d done over the past few years that he’d “let slide,” but that ultimately he didn’t feel we were really friends anymore.

At first, I was very upset.

The anxiety I’d been carrying kind of subsided, I guess because my suspicions were confirmed - but it was replaced by sadness. Real sadness. I think part of that sadness came from feeling a little isolated, even slightly bullied, if I’m honest. In the WhatsApp group it had been obvious: he wouldn’t respond to me, but would respond to everyone else. 

That in-between space of being present but excluded is rather uncomfortable.

WhatsApp groups themselves are strange things. They’re still relatively new in the long arc of human relationships. Many of us lived a significant portion of our lives without them and then suddenly they became central to how friendships function. There are pros and cons, especially in groups of long-standing friends. In this case, the group itself wasn’t the issue, but it was the place where I first noticed something was wrong.

I replied to him apologetically. Genuinely. I asked if we could talk on the phone. I didn’t want to lose the friendship. His response was polite but non-committal. He said he was glad he’d shared how he felt, but he didn’t expand on it. I sent a voice note. There was no further response.

What matters isn’t the detail of the exchange itself, but what came next.

I was speaking to my wife about it, describing the familiar cocktail of emotions that situations like this always seem to bring up for me: upset, sadness, disappointment, anxiety, even a little shame. And she asked me a very simple question:

“How does he serve you as a friend?”

Not in a transactional sense, not as in servitude, but in the sense of:

What does this friendship give you?

I thought about it.

And thought about it.

And thought about it.

Then she said, “That’s too long. Why are you having to think so hard about how a friendship serves you?”

And that was the answer.

If you can’t name what a relationship gives you - if it doesn’t nourish, support, challenge, or ground you in some meaningful way…then why are you expending energy trying to hold onto it?

In his message, he said something along the lines of life moves on. And he was right.

People do change. Life does move on. And sometimes that means relationships end, even when neither person is a villain.

It was my birthday yesterday. What I want to take into my 36th year is a practice of radical acceptance.

Everyone is on their own path. Everyone is always struggling with something. There is no version of life where difficulty disappears. The only thing that changes is how we meet it.

After I sent my apologetic messages and received no reply, my mind went into overdrive. I wanted to dosomething. Should I leave the WhatsApp group? Should I send another message asserting my boundaries? Should I block him? Should I reclaim some sense of control?

But I noticed something important. Beneath all of those impulses was the same question:

Am I trying to find peace… or am I trying to have the last word?

That’s a difficult thing to admit to yourself. Even when words sound kind or principled on the surface, they can still be about one-upmanship. About not wanting to be the vulnerable one. About restoring a sense of power.

So I stopped. And instead, I practiced acceptance.

I accept how he feels.
I accept that he’s upset with me.
I accept that he doesn’t want to explain why.
I accept that he doesn’t want to engage anymore.
I accept that we’ve grown apart.

And, actually, I agree. We have grown apart. It’s a shame. Losing a friendship is always painful. But when a relationship becomes one-sided, the most self-respecting thing you can do is to let it go gracefully.

I genuinely wish him nothing but happiness. I hope he finds love. I hope he builds the life he wants. I hope one day he can see that, underneath everything, there was nothing but care from my side.

I’m not going to say all of that to him as it could be taken as me wanting to appear to be ‘the bigger person’ or wanting to gain the upper hand. And yes, I’m aware of the irony in writing this publicly. But this isn’t for him and he is very unlikely to see it. This is for you.

So here’s the question I’m leaving you with:

Does it serve you?

If the answer is unclear, or the answer is no…then maybe the bravest thing you can do is stop expending energy. Life is far too short to chase connection where none is being offered.

Acceptance isn’t passive. It’s active, deliberate and deeply peaceful.

That’s the energy I want to carry into the year ahead. Calm. Clarity. No arguments. No confrontations. No need to prove anything.

Growth often comes with sadness. And sitting with that sadness, really noticing it, is part of the work.

I hope you can take something from this.

How does it serve you?

Thank you for your lovely birthday messages. You are the people I want to spend my precious time with. With love, light and kindness to you all as we step into another year on this beautiful planet.