The Pain of Friendships That Feel Like All or Nothing
In my therapy sessions, one of the most common struggles people bring is around friendships and relationships. The words may differ, but the feelings are strikingly similar. Here are some of the things I hear most often:
- “I don’t ever get people who really care for me.”
- “I have no hope of finding true friends.”
- “Whenever I let someone in, they end up hurting me.”
- “If someone really valued me, they wouldn’t treat me this way.”
- “I thought we were close, but I guess I was wrong.”
These statements carry not just frustration, but a deep sadness. They show how painful it feels when relationships don’t turn out the way we hope.
Let’s talk about why this happens, and what can help.
The longing for closeness: “I just want someone who truly gets me.”
Many people I work with describe feeling like outsiders. They long for someone who sees them, who chooses them, who values them deeply.
When they meet a new friend, the hope is intense: “Maybe this person will finally be the one who understands me.”
Because of that hope, they often give a lot of themselves quickly — sharing deeply, investing heavily, opening their heart.
When the other person doesn’t match that intensity, it feels crushing. What was supposed to be the start of something special now feels like another painful ending.
The all-or-nothing lens: “If they cared, they wouldn’t hurt me.”
A small disappointment in a friendship — a canceled plan, a delayed reply, a careless remark — doesn’t feel small at all. It feels like proof of something bigger:
“Maybe I don’t matter to them. Maybe I never did.”
That moment of hurt quickly turns into a verdict: the friendship is over, the bond was never real, the person can’t be trusted.
In therapy, we explore how both things can exist at once: “They cared about me in many ways, and they also hurt me in this moment.”
Holding that “grey” space is difficult, but it prevents the cycle of closeness followed by abrupt disconnection.
The painful link between attention and worth: “If they stop paying attention, I must not matter.”
Another common theme is tying self-worth to how much attention a friend or partner gives. If someone texts often, calls regularly, or makes you feel special, it feels like proof that you are valued.
But when that attention fades — even for ordinary reasons like being busy or distracted — it feels like rejection: “If I mattered, they wouldn’t forget me.”
This leads to a painful rollercoaster: feeling worthy when attention is high, and worthless when attention dips. In therapy, we gently practice separating the two: your value stays steady, even if someone else’s attention shifts.
What we really work on in therapy
When clients share statements like:
- “I never find people who care.”
- “I have no hope of building lasting friendships.”
…we slow down and look at the evidence. Often, it isn’t true that no one cares — but it feels that way because hurt moments weigh more heavily than caring ones. Therapy becomes a space to hold onto the whole picture, not just the painful parts.
Moving toward steadier connections
Some of the guiding truths we return to again and again are:
- Friendships grow slowly. Deep bonds need time, not intensity overnight.
- One mistake doesn’t erase everything. Someone can disappoint and still value you.
- Your worth is not up for debate. It doesn’t rise and fall with how much attention you receive.
- Repair is possible. Ending things abruptly isn’t the only option; conversations and repair can make a bond stronger.
If you’ve ever thought, “I don’t ever get people who truly care for me” or “I have no hope of finding friends,” know that you’re not alone. These words echo through my therapy sessions every week.
They come from people who care deeply, who long for connection, and who hurt easily when that connection feels fragile.
Therapy doesn’t erase that sensitivity — it helps you carry it differently. So friendships don’t have to feel like all or nothing, and hope doesn’t have to vanish after one disappointment. There is a way to build relationships that are imperfect, steady, and still full of care.
