Some relationships are solid—steady, unshakable. Others shift over time, stretching and reshaping themselves in ways we didn’t expect. Some quietly fade, some crack and break, and some change so much that we don’t even recognize what they used to be.
And yet, even in their shifting forms, they still matter.
But the in-between—when we don’t quite know what a relationship is anymore—can be deeply unsettling.
Maybe it’s a friend who used to feel like home, but now every conversation feels a little forced. Maybe it’s a partner who once met you in ways that now feel out of sync. Maybe it’s the strange dissonance of being both close and distant with someone at the same time.
And in that confusion, something happens inside.
A part of you might cling, trying to pull things back to how they used to be. Another part might detach, protecting you from the discomfort of not knowing. Maybe there’s frustration—why can’t we just be what we were? Maybe there’s grief—was it ever what I thought it was? Maybe there’s relief—is this change actually making space for something new?
Because relationships don’t just change in one direction. They expand and contract. They dissolve and re-form. They deepen in unexpected ways and stretch into something unfamiliar. And sometimes, what looks like an ending is really just a shift—one that makes room for something we couldn’t yet see.
But in the midst of that shift, before clarity arrives, there’s just the in-between. The not-knowing. The discomfort of trying to hold something that no longer fits in your hands the way it once did.
It reminds me of this:
The Friendships That Change Shape
Some friendships are mountains—steady, unmoved,
Some are rivers that shift as they choose.
Some are seasons that cycle through years,
Some are echoes I still hold dear.
They do not all vanish, but some slip away,
Like footprints erased at the edge of a wave.
Some settle softer, less bold, but still there,
A presence, a knowing, a love in the air.
And if I could gather each one in my hand,
I’d hold them like shells, collected in sand.
Not all still belong, but none are erased,
They shaped me, they changed me, they still have their place.
So what do we do with that?
Maybe nothing. Maybe we just notice—how it feels, what comes up, what parts of us want to react. Maybe we give ourselves permission to not rush toward defining it, to let it be unclear for a little while longer. Maybe we trust that even in the messiness of misalignment, something is still unfolding.
Because even if a relationship no longer holds the same shape, its presence in our life—its impact—doesn’t disappear. Some connections soften but never fully fade. Some drift but leave behind something meaningful. And some, despite the uncertainty, remain—different than before, but still real, still here.
And maybe, instead of trying to force something back into what it was, we can get a little curious about what it’s becoming.
Because who knows? It might still surprise us.
Embracing Shadows, Illuminating Hope,
Chelsey Fjeldheim, LCSW
Empowering Souls on the Path of Healing
Copyright © 2025 Chelsey Fjeldheim, Courage Speaks Counseling
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