Sometimes the Hardest Goodbyes Aren’t Romantic—They’re the Ones With Your Chosen Family

There’s a specific kind of heartbreak we don’t post about. No flowers. No “you deserve better” texts. Just a quiet, persistent ache. On Don’t Think, host Carla Bezanson tackles friendship breakups with the kind of honesty a lot of people can sadly relate to. “You know [it’s] devastating in a way that romantic breakups just aren’t,” Bezanson states. “It’s quieter, it’s slower, and it’s more of a dull ache that never goes away.”

Bezanson shares how losing her chosen family reshaped her. The grief lives in that in-between space—missing someone deeply while also protecting yourself. If you’ve ever stared at a contact you could text but won’t, this one’s for you, babe.

The loss no one warns you about

Friendship breakups don’t follow a script. There’s no anniversary of the split, no socially accepted grieving period, no dramatic “we need to talk.” As Bezanson puts it, “There’s no official conversation expected.” 

That’s what makes it disorienting. Romantic endings come with rituals. People check in, they validate the heartbreak. When a friendship ends, the world keeps spinning like nothing happened. You’re expected to shrug and move on, even if the person who disappeared still knows your childhood stories, your parents’ names, and the version of you that existed before everything got complicated.

The loss lingers because it’s unresolved. You can’t box it up neatly. The person is still out there, living their life, possibly one text away. And yet, the distance feels permanent.

Grieving someone who’s still out there

Because the door isn’t fully locked, your brain keeps wandering back to it. You replay the good memories. You imagine the apology. You wonder what would happen if you reached out.

Bezanson is honest about that pull. “I sometimes fantasize about being friends again and how safe it would feel or validating it would be to get an apology or how familiar it would feel,” she says. That longing can live right next to self-respect. Missing someone doesn’t erase what happened. It just means they mattered.

The grief sits in that in-between space—love, hurt, memory, restraint. And sometimes choosing not to text is the loudest boundary you’ll ever set.

Missing them doesn’t mean you’d necessarily let them back in

It’s okay to miss someone deeply and still know they don’t get access to you anymore. “I think it’s OK to miss people that you may never let back in or you may never reconcile with,” Bezanson reveals.

Take it as permission to feel all the feels. You can crave the comfort of who that person once was to you and still protect yourself from who they became. Bezanson admits the fantasy is real: “I sometimes fantasize about being friends again and how safe it would feel or validating it would be to get an apology or how familiar it would feel.” Familiarity is powerful. It whispers that going back would be easier than starting over.

But she also names the other voice—the one rooted in self-respect. The part that remembers how it felt to be abandoned, dismissed, or pushed out. Growth can mean grieving what you had and still choosing yourself.

Sometimes the most mature move isn’t reconciliation. It’s accepting the loss, honoring the impact, and keeping the boundary anyway.

To hear the full conversation on friendship breakups, listen to Don’t Think wherever you get your podcasts.

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