I’ve learned that friendship, like the seasons, changes over time

Some changes arrive quietly, like leaves shifting one shade at a time until the whole tree glows with color. Friendship has been like that for me: not a single dramatic ending or beginning, but a gradual reshaping. One day, I looked back and realized the landscape of my relationships was entirely different.

Before my Huntington’s disease diagnosis, I believed friendships were permanent. If someone had been in my life for years, I assumed they always would be. I thought history alone would hold us together. I’ve since learned that time isn’t the glue. Willingness, presence, and grace are what keep a friendship alive, and those things shift with life’s seasons.

When symptoms began to creep in, I tried to keep friendships exactly as they’d been. I forced myself to attend events when I was exhausted, laughed through balance issues so others wouldn’t feel awkward, and avoided sharing too much about my diagnosis. I thought if I just held on tightly, nothing would change. But life has its own rhythm. Some people quietly drifted away. Others didn’t know what to say, so they said nothing.

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At first, I took every change personally. If someone stopped calling, I assumed I had become too much to handle. If they made plans without me, I thought they were avoiding the weight of my reality. Over time, I realized that not all distance is rejection. Sometimes we simply stop meeting in the same season. Our lives branch in different directions, and what once connected us no longer holds.

There is grief in that realization, but also freedom. Letting go of friendships that no longer nourished me made space for new ones to grow. These often came about in unexpected ways: a conversation in a waiting room, a bond with someone at a Huntington’s event, a neighbor who truly wanted to hear how I was doing. Some of these friends have been in my life for only a short while, yet they’ve met me fully where I am now, not in the memory of who I used to be.

I’ve also learned that friendship doesn’t have to look like it did in my 20s to be real. I no longer have the stamina for late nights or spontaneous road trips, but that hasn’t lessened the closeness I feel with the right people. Now, friendship often looks like cups of tea at my kitchen table, slow walks, or voice messages on days I can’t leave home. It’s not about how much we do together; it’s about how deeply we see each other.

As my health changes, I’ve had to relearn how to be a friend. There have been seasons when my world narrowed to medical appointments and managing symptoms. I used to feel guilty that I couldn’t plan big celebrations or travel to see people. But I’ve learned friendship isn’t about proving loyalty through grand gestures. It’s about genuine care that adapts. Sometimes it’s a simple text saying, “I’m thinking of you.” Sometimes it’s listening more than speaking because my words feel tangled that day. The friends who love me have shown me that these small connections matter.

Accepting that friendships change has made me more present in the ones I have. I notice the small things, such as someone remembering my favorite tea, how we laugh until my sides ache, the comfortable silences that feel like safety. I’ve stopped measuring friendship by its length and started valuing it by its depth.

Huntington’s has made some seasons shorter and others more intense, but it has also made me braver. I’m quicker to say, “I appreciate you,” instead of waiting for the perfect moment. I express love freely, judge less, and accept that people will flow in and out of my life.

Now I know friendship is not about holding on at all costs; it’s about tending to relationships that nourish both people. Some will last through every season, rooted deeply. Others will be fleeting, beautiful in their briefness. Both matter. Both have shaped me.

As the air cools and leaves gather on the ground, I feel grateful for the friends who remain, for the ones who have come and gone, and for the ability to keep my heart open. Change no longer feels like a threat. It feels like an invitation to trust that every season of friendship, whether blooming or fading, has its own kind of beauty.

Note: Huntington’s Disease News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Huntington’s Disease News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Huntington’s disease.