Ask A.J. is Slate’s advice column on addiction, recovery, and how to hate yourself less. Submit a question here. It’s anonymous!

Dear A.J.,

Friendship/mental health question for you. I have a friend who I was very close with for almost a decade. We’re both parents, we work in the same field, and we’ve been through a lot together: births, deaths, promotions, unemployment, complaining about our spouses, mental health stuff—all the good and bad. Normally we hang out a few times a month or so, and talk very often on text, but over the past several months, she’s kind of slowly backed out of my life.

It started with canceling a few dinners that never got rescheduled. Then she started taking days to respond to texts (not the norm for us, or, I would guess, for most female friends). If this were anybody else I’d “take the hint” and start telling myself stuff like “people grow apart,” etc., but this is a long friendship and she’s had struggles with depression on and off. I’ve asked if everything is OK (in general, and between us), and she always tells me she’s just really busy at work. When I decided to stop being so pathetic and leave the ball in her court, we went weeks without talking.

Finally, she reached out to schedule drinks with me out of the blue … only to bail hours before. I’m a grownup and I get that life is busy, but my feelings are hurt by this continual rejection/avoidance and I’m tempted to just not return her next text. I guess my question is … at what point do you kind of give up, and let someone fall out of your life?

Signed,

Left on Read

A.J. Daulerio
My Husband and I Opened Our Marriage. Well, the Worst Has Happened.
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Dear Left on Read,

Why does losing an adult friendship result in such profound sadness and feel like such a personal failure? Most adult friendships are usually tied to something superficial or transactional: work, family obligations, kids’ Little League, that dumb pickleball league you joined to be less lonely, or those “business” friendships with people in your industry that often make you feel completely dead inside. So it’s wonderful when you do have a deeper connection—someone in your life who makes you feel validated and less insane. Who can gas you up when needed. Who you can just … sit with. This is so rare, so let me say right away: I’m sorry for your loss.

Being made to feel like the loss is your fault—without ever getting any explanation as to what you did—is even more devastating. It’s a return to those elementary school days when a year goes by, and someone you once considered a best friend (4 EVER!) has a birthday party, and you are no longer invited. As an adult, you can drive yourself crazy with imaginary scenarios, thinking there’s a group chat happening without you, one where your ex-friend is itemizing every insecurity you have as a way of bonding with their new friends. It’s so great to be around people whose feet don’t smell like provolone! The truth is that you have no idea why she’s drifting away. It’s entirely possible that she really is just busy, and can’t prioritize texting right now.

The one part I’d like to focus on is that you said there is a history of depression there. It sounds like you’re questioning whether you’re a bad friend for not inquiring or pressing enough to find out if they’re really as busy and OK as they claim, or if they’re in crisis. The urge to feel like you’re somehow neglecting her may just be a way you’re coping with this, and I can understand why, at the same time, you’re worried about being annoying by reaching out too much. But there is an easy solution. It’s possible to respect the boundary while also continuing to check in intermittently. It’s not a violation of that boundary to care about someone even if the friendship has changed. Reach out just to ask how she is, occasionally, and accept that she might not give you too much in response. Give yourself enough space and grace to be available in an emergency to visit them if they’re on a 72-hour hold at some horrible facility. (Cigarettes and comfy socks are always a good icebreaker, no matter what the status of the friendship is.)

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For right now, detach with love. I’ve mentioned this approach in different scenarios in a couple of older columns, and it’s a perfectly reasonable approach here as well. As a reminder, it means you get to provide a generous amount of love without losing self-respect and sanity. No one is worth that.

However, detaching with love is definitely a new muscle, one that needs to be worked on constantly. The first step in building this muscle is self-awareness. Do an honest TSA body scan of yourself every day: Co-dependency (beep!) … people-pleasing (beep!) … your own depression (beep!).

Once you gather all the information and then—here comes the hard part —accept it, you’ll have the opportunity to work on your own issues and emerge from this much stronger. You might feel pathetic, but you are not pathetic. You are a person who cares about other people, which is a wonderful and admirable thing to be.

Don’t torture yourself with why your friend is drifting away from you. Sometimes, there is no explanation for this other than that people change, but that doesn’t make it any less painful. And remember: You close this door but keep your heart open. You deserve some peace, too.

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