Dear Dorothy
Lately, I’ve been feeling quite down. I’ve noticed that some of my friendships and close connections are slipping away. We used to talk often, check in, share everything but now there’s silence. I try to reach out, but the responses are slow or half-hearted, and sometimes there’s no reply at all. I feel like I’m the only one holding on, and it makes me question my worth. Was I ever that important to them? I’m scared of being forgotten or left behind, but I also don’t want to force relationships. Why does this hurt so much? And how do I move forward without feeling so empty?
Yours,
Helen
Dear Helen,
Firstly, allow me to say what you’re feeling is valid, deeply human, and far more common than you might think. Losing connection with people who once meant the world to us can feel like grieving a quiet, invisible loss. There are no farewell parties or closure chats just an aching absence.
Relationships, like seasons, change. People grow, drift, return, or part permanently and not always for dramatic or personal reasons. Sometimes it’s life: busy routines, new priorities, or emotional exhaustion. Other times, it’s a quiet reshuffling of circles as we evolve. This isn’t always a reflection of your worth, it’s often just the rhythm of adulthood.
But your hurt matters. What you shared was real. And if you were the one always initiating, that imbalance can chip away at your spirit. It’s okay to feel bruised. You cared. That means you loved well. That is not weakness.
Now to the forward bit. Rather than forcing what’s fading, nourish what’s present. Redirect that emotional energy into connections that still bring you joy or into new spaces where you can be your whole self, unapologetically. You’re not forgotten. But yes, you may be in transition, and transitions, though painful, are often necessary for growth.
Reframe the emptiness not as a void, but as space; space that can now be filled with people and things more aligned with who you are becoming.
Lastly, be gentle with yourself. Your heart is adjusting to a shift it didn’t choose. Let it ache. Then, let it open again.
With warmth and strength,
Dorothy