Relationships are a topic that comes up frequently in my work with clients, and one area that many people find particularly challenging is friendship.
For many neurodivergent people, friendships don’t always feel straightforward. They can be confusing, exhausting, deeply rewarding, and sometimes incredibly painful. Something I’ve noticed in both my personal life and my work is that my relationships with newer friends feel very different from those I’ve had for many years.
Being diagnosed as neurodivergent later in life helped me understand just how much of my friendships had been built around people-pleasing. For years, I believed that being a “good friend” meant being easy-going, agreeable, and never causing conflict. If someone asked what I wanted to do, my automatic response was, “I don’t mind. Whatever you’d like.”
The truth was, I did mind. There were plenty of things I didn’t enjoy or didn’t want, but I was terrified that expressing my needs or disagreeing would cost me the friendship. Making friends had always felt difficult, so I convinced myself I couldn’t afford to lose any. I thought I had to be the perfect friend.
The problem with this approach was that the people closest to me never really got to know the real me. They knew the version of me that was accommodating, compliant, and always happy to go along with everyone else. Beneath the surface, though, I often felt overlooked, misunderstood, and hurt.
Looking back, I can see that this wasn’t entirely my friends’ fault. Because I rarely expressed my needs or set boundaries, they had no way of knowing when those boundaries had been crossed.
Understanding my neurodivergence has allowed me to approach friendships differently. With newer friendships, I’ve tried to be more authentic from the beginning. I share my opinions, communicate my needs, and allow myself to take up space instead of focusing all my energy on being liked. I no longer aim to be the perfect friend, I aim to be myself.
I’ve found that this makes rupture and repair much easier.
Every friendship experiences moments of misunderstanding, disappointment, or conflict. Ruptures are a normal part of any close relationship. The difference is that when we’ve been honest about who we are from the start, these moments don’t carry years of unspoken resentment.
With some of my older friendships, speaking up felt much harder. My friends weren’t used to me expressing hurt or setting boundaries, so when I finally did, it came as a surprise. From their perspective, my behaviour seemed out of character. From mine, years of bottled-up feelings had finally reached the surface. They were shocked, and I was resentful.
Repairing a friendship after a rupture isn’t always easy, but it starts with slowing things down.
Instead of reacting in the heat of the moment, pause. Listen to one another. Be curious about each other’s perspectives. Communicate your needs honestly while keeping the focus on moving forward rather than proving who was right.
Sometimes a friendship can’t be repaired and that’s okay. Not every relationship is meant to last forever. But if both people are willing, repair is possible. It requires honesty, compassion, boundaries, and a willingness to see things from another person’s perspective.
If seeing another perspective feels difficult, or if you find yourself repeatedly struggling with friendships, therapy can help. By exploring your own needs, understanding your boundaries, and learning to communicate them more clearly, you can begin to build friendships that feel safer, healthier, and more authentic.
The goal isn’t to become the perfect friend.
It’s to be yourself.