I started this blog in college. I’ve kept up some of my earlier posts to remind myself how far I’ve come—and, in some ways, how far I’ve fallen. Ironically, the 21-year-old version of me thought she had enough life experience to know what kind of content young women needed to navigate this chaotic world confidently. I admire that myopic view of life and how empowering the unknown used to be.

Now, at 34, I’m still learning and maturing every day. One of the prominent themes in my life lately has been friendship. I’ve found myself reeling—mentally and emotionally—over shifting friendship dynamics, over the perceived loss and betrayal that sometimes creeps into sisterhood. This subject has consumed me. The heartbreak from falling-outs has felt crippling, even.

Young people often take for granted the lightness of our teens and twenties. Even if we came from imperfect homes, the promise of a bright future can eclipse even our darkest shadows. But as the years pass, unspoken needs begin to surface. Sometimes, inner demons we knew nothing about overtake our friends and lovers. To see a shadow swallow a source of light in our lives can incite mental and emotional terror. At least, that’s been true for me—unable to accept that things can change in an instant.

Even the inevitable, predictable changes feel overwhelming in real-time. Some of us get married. Some start families. We prioritize career growth. Parents get sick, and we feel burdened by the pressure to become caregivers while trying to hold on to the life we’ve worked so hard to build. As our needs evolve, so do our friendships and romantic relationships.

Lately, I’ve been drowning in a sea of TikTok videos about friendship betrayal and “that one girl you trusted who did you so dirty.” At some point during my late-night scrolling, I realized how pathetic this obsession had become.

One day, I woke up with a stress-induced stomachache and decided to stay off social media for a few hours. As I was blowing out my damp curls, staring at my tired face in the mirror, a thought occurred: Maybe the friends I’ve lost aren’t wicked or insecure or broken. Maybe they didn’t truly abandon me when my mother fell ill. Maybe our friendship just changed. Maybe my needs changed. Maybe they’re not equipped to stand with me in a storm. And if that’s the case, maybe they don’t have to go in the bucket labeled “bad friend” or “another reason to hide from the world.” Maybe, instead, they belong in the bucket labeled “happy memories and gratitude, but I had to walk away.”

When I think of my favorite memories with past friends—the picnics in the park, the dance parties in our apartments, the bike rides in Central Park—I don’t feel anger or hurt or hate. I feel happy. And with all the darkness we have to navigate in the world, don’t we deserve to feel joy?

The same goes for past romantic partners. I could keep unpacking the reasons we grew apart, repeating tired stories about their bad behavior. But I can also look back on the magical dates, the trips, the late nights scanning the sky for shooting stars—and feel nothing but warmth, happiness, and gratitude.

Recently, I watched an interview between Jay Shetty and psychologist Dr. Ramani Durvasula, who said, “The core of mental health is flexibility”—the ability to process the world and the people in it as ever-changing and remain adaptable.

Life turns us on our heads sometimes. Lovers hurt us. Friends hurt us. Family hurts us. Companies hurt us. But if we approach the world with a grounded understanding of the inevitability of change, things might hurt a little less. We could learn to be happy that we experienced those people, places, and moments at all. And perhaps the lightness that carried us through youth would return, allowing us to continue dancing through life as a partner to the unknown, not as a victim.