“Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art… It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.” — C.S. Lewis
We are falling apart. And putting ourselves back together. Again and again.
We are all grappling with the impossibility of living meaningfully in these isolating times. We exist in chaos, forced to endure constant disruptions—technological shifts, uninspiring jobs, or bad romantic relationships. Our identities are under siege. The roles that once defined us are crumbling. So many of us have not followed the paths that were once considered normal—getting married, becoming parents, owning property.
We are struggling to reach our parents, who are aging, ailing, and perhaps deeply alienated from our way of life. The choices we have made—the lives we lead—are often unrecognizable to them. Every generation has faced this divide, but none have departed from tradition as drastically as we have.
And so the only space that is saving us in these times is created by our friends. Our friendships have become our anchor. A coffee, a weekend getaway, a mixer—these seemingly small moments of connection now carry immense weight. As traditional support systems disintegrate, friendships are evolving into something deeper. They are no longer just about proximity or convenience. They are becoming our safe harbors, the spaces where we process the world, where we are witnessed and held.
And so, it has never been more important to learn how to hold space for our friends. Friendship can no longer be just about banter, competition, gossip, or a shared pastime. It has to transform into something more essential—a solid support system, a place for healing, if we want to collectively wade through the tsunami of uncertainty.
Here’s how we can hold space for a friend
Decenter yourself: We are used to conversations as exchanges—an ebb and flow of stories, comparisons, advice-giving. But holding space is different. It requires us to step out of the equation and simply listen.
It’s not about one-upping someone’s struggle with your own, not about finding a solution, not even about analyzing their pain to help them “see it clearly.” Instead, it’s about creating an unthreatening space where your friend can unravel their deepest conflicts and process their emotions on their own terms. A space where there is no right or wrong, no competition, no fixing—just the quiet, steady presence of someone who cares.
Agendaless soundboarding: Holding space means resisting the impulse to jump in with solutions. It means asking questions with deep empathy, and not probing them. Sometimes the right questions play a far more important role in arriving at the truth than offering straight answers. This kind of listening is also deeply satisfying for the one who is listening. There is no greater joy than being able to step outside of ourselves and offer time and presence without any vested interest. It’s a superpower in an age of self-obsession. Cultivate it. And use your superpower to good use.
Avoid codependency and toxicity: We all go through difficult times—a breakup, a job loss, grief, or a personal crisis. Sometimes, the struggle is more subtle, manifesting as withdrawal, irritability, or exhaustion. In adult relationships, we are largely responsible for regulating our own nervous systems, ensuring that our loved ones are not constantly bearing the brunt of our mood swings or circumstances beyond our control.
Friendships are sacred spaces: They should not become emotional dumping grounds, weighed down by unchecked turmoil. Romantic relationships, too, often fracture under the weight of emotional codependency. Of course, turning to friends for support, for a listening ear, is natural and necessary. But the connection, the offering, must never be taken for granted.
Don’t blur the boundaries of friendship by creating emotional dependency. Otherwise, we only shift from codependent, enmeshed romantic relationships to codependent, enmeshed friendships—where one person falls into the savior role and the other into perpetual victimhood.
Learn to sit with the first wave of your emotions, process them, and then reach out with clarity about what you truly need. Don’t drain a friend’s time and energy while you’re still in the chaos of your emotions. Instead, allow yourself to settle before seeking support, when you have a better idea of what you may need from a friend in terms of support during your turmoil. They are there for you, always—but meaningful connection thrives on mutual respect for the emotional energy and boundaries of our loved ones, as well as an awareness of our own emotional inadequacies and the maladaptive patterns we tend to fall into during difficult times.
Offer real support: Emotional support is vital. But sometimes, practical help speaks louder than words. If a friend is struggling financially, order them a meal. If they are overwhelmed, help them with a task. If they are lonely, show up at their door with a stupid movie and some snacks.
Support is not just about deep conversations. It is also about showing up in tangible ways.
Reciprocity, not obligation: A good friendship is built on mutual care, not emotional labour. If you are always the one listening, always the one holding space, always the one offering support—step back. A friendship that drains you is not a friendship, it is an unpaid job.
Pay attention: Does this person acknowledge your capacity before making demands on you?
Do they recognize that your time and energy are gifts, not guarantees?
When you need support, are they there for you in return?
If the answer is no, reevaluate the dynamic. Love and care should flow both ways.
Friendship must be built on choice, gratitude, and mutual support. Anything else is emotional extraction.
We often over-recommend therapy, when in reality, true friendship, genuine connection, and a bit of self-awareness (which, yes, therapy can help cultivate) can address much of the isolation and disconnection we feel within ourselves. A friend is not a therapist—therapy requires a different skill set and serves a distinct purpose. But friendship should be therapeutic in its own way; otherwise, it becomes just another space where we replay the same meaningless patterns, carry the weight of judgment, and struggle to show up authentically.
We are all trying to survive something. And friendship—when nurtured with care—can be the thing that saves us. Not in grand, dramatic ways, but in small, steady acts of presence.
