Maintaining And Recalibrating Relationships During Life Transitions

How to nurture what fits, let go of what doesn’t, and open new circles of belonging

About 15 years ago, I lost track and connection with a sweet couple that brought lots of joy to my life. In their Hindu ways, they always welcomed me with delicious food, genuine smiles, and meandering conversations. I don't know how their names disappeared from my contacts list. The thought of never seeing them again deeply saddened me. I was getting divorced. They were moving to a different area. Life happened.

With every year passing, that last "aavjo" (the Gujarati "come again") turned into nothing more than wishful thinking. Where would I go if I didn't know where they went?

For a while, I thought they would surely call me eventually. But the months turned into years, and I finally gave up.

A few days ago, some other friends of mine, on their way to Oregon, checked into a hotel for the night to break up the long drive. The Indian gentleman behind the registration desk noticed that they were from Morro Bay, CA, and mentioned in passing that he used to have a friend who lived there.

"The friend" was me, and he jumped at the opportunity to reconnect. A couple of hours later, we were talking on the phone. I found out that they live in Carmel now and have three children. Their first, and the only one I knew of, was now 21 years old!

"This is not a coincidence," he said. "We've been praying to meet again." And so, we shall.

I don't even know how to calculate the odds of this happening. I am pretty sure they are astronomical, though, which is what makes it extra special. What makes it interesting is how different our life-paths have been. Their traditional arranged marriage and consulting Hindu astrologers to make sure their first son is born at the right time to become a yogi starkly contrasts my atheist, footloose, fancy-free frolicking around as a solo traveler with a dog.

How will we re-meet again? Can we still be friends? Excited and with a degree of trepidation, I made arrangements to see them in a few days.

If you've lived long enough, you know that how you leave people is not usually how you find them, especially when lots of life has happened. Sometimes, you don't even have to leave them to find them no longer compatible, especially when your own life has taken turns away from theirs.

So, naturally, relationships move through their own growth arcs and seasons with all their emotional, existential, and logistical challenges.

Your wild high school friends, while fun at the time, might have introduced too many problems for the responsible adult you were becoming. The friends you and your ex enjoyed as a couple may no longer fit your needs or sensibilities when you get divorced. You may or may not keep in touch with your in-laws and anyone on your ex's side of the family.

Maybe that's a blessing. But sometimes it might feel like a real loss.

Coworker connections fade after you get a new job. Your soccer mom friends from your kid's school disappear when you become the proud parent of a college graduate. Religious communities may become constraining and unauthentic to maintain, especially when your belief system changes.

There are as many possibilities for friendships and relationships to change and disappear as there are the ways in which we made them. While not a formal psychological term, therapists and coaches use "seasonal friendships" as a shorthand for relationships that meet our needs in a particular life stage but don't last indefinitely. Sociological research shows that friendships are highly tied to environments of convenience. Think shared context, such as work, school, parenthood, interests, and neighborhood.

In "Placing Friendship in Context," sociologist Rebecca Adams emphasizes that friendships cannot be understood purely through individual or dyadic lenses, but must be viewed in light of the social structures and environments in which they're embedded, ranging from personal circumstances to broader societal dynamics and structure.

Changes in circumstance, rhythm, geography, and identity naturally shift social bonds. Developmental theory supports this. Robert Kegan's Constructive Developmental Framework describes how adults shed old meaning systems as they evolve. Relationships built on those older systems sometimes collapse under their own weight because the worldview that once bound them together no longer does.

Theory aside, what this actually looks like in real life is more interesting to me. Sometimes, people just drift apart, mutually less interested in each other. I've had the experience of realizing that I no longer belong in a friendship the same way we sometimes know that we no longer want to visit a place we once enjoyed.

One of those happened for me within the last year. I used to have a high school friend I stayed in touch with and always made time for when I was in the area. But over the years, I noticed that we only bonded over past stories. I eventually asked myself, "If I am to meet this person today, would I want to be friends with him and his wife?" and since the answer came as a clear, "No way!" I saved myself the trouble of letting them know that I was in town.

In this case, I felt a little disloyal, but I didn't feel grief or loss. Even the disloyal feeling faded when I looked at the situation rationally, realizing that my loyalty was to a different person when I was a different person. So many things had changed that the people we had become no longer owed loyalty to each other because we didn't even know each other.

Sadly, sometimes relationships end abruptly, unexpectedly, and sometimes with betrayal. Then, it doesn't feel like a seasonal change. It feels like a natural disaster struck. Even if the break-up is justified or necessary, there's still an emotional storm bearing the loss of shared rituals, trust, and inside jokes. Even worse, we mourn the loss of a witness to our life's story. We may not think of it in those terms, but losing someone who knows us in a particular way for a particular time hurts not just because the person is gone, but because that slice of life and experience of us is gone with them.

Research on adult transitions shows that people who intentionally release misaligned relationships and then invest energy into forming new ones or maintaining existing aligned relationships report higher well-being than those who cling to bonds that drain them.

We don't need the scientists to tell us this. We've all experienced the value of having someone hold our hand and have our back through a difficult transition. It gives us strength and reassurance, support, and genuine care when we need it most.

Which is why we must properly care for these connections. We are not entitled to them. We are blessed to have them. It's up to us to reciprocate and nurture these relationships, even if time and distance pull us apart.

Back in time, before phones and easy, fast connections, people wrote letters that took their time getting to the intended recipients. The poet Emily Dickinson wrote this to one of her friends:

…My friends are my "estate." Forgive me then the avarice to hoard them! They tell me those were poor early, have different views of gold. I dont know how that is. God is not so wary as we, else he would give us no friends, lest we forget him! The charms of the Heaven in the bush are superceded I fear, by the Heaven in the hand, occasionally.

From poetry to policy, the message is consistent: friends shape our happiness and resilience. A chapter in the World Happiness Report (2025) emphasizes that supportive social connections buffer stress, protecting against mental health declines and enhancing overall well-being, sharing and caring increase happiness, and pro-social behaviors reduce mortality rates.

So, how do we manage existing relationships, and how do we recalibrate when life happens?