The Problem With Being The Low-Maintenance Friend

(It's not as big a flex as I thought it was)

Written by Seema Sharma, Founder of The Hormone Harmony Network

The Low-Maintenance Friend Badge of Honour

I used to think being a low-maintenance friend was something to be proud of.

You know the type. The friend who understands when life gets too busy to call or text. The friend you can go months without speaking to and then breeze back in and pick up exactly where things left off. The friend who doesn’t ask for much, or puts any real demands on you, leaving you secretly relieved when plans get cancelled. Super cool and I wore it like a badge of honour.

For a long time, I genuinely believed it made me a good friend, the chillest chick. Easy-going. Understanding. Flexible. NOT needy. Now, looking back, I can see why. In my twenties and thirties, life was moving at full speed, for all of us. We were all busy building something. Careers, relationships, families, homes and lives. Friendship based around the milestones. Engagements. Weddings. Babies. Promotions. Birthday dinners. Nights out that started with one drink and ended with declarations of love somewhere around 2am.

“You know I love you, right?”

“No, YOU’RE the best.”

“We need to do this more often.”

The Gaps Between Us

Friendship happened at intervals not in the ordinary moments. And if it did, (I really don’t remember) it was mostly on the surface. We’d catch up every few months, reassure ourselves that we were still in each other’s corner and then disappear back into our busy lives. No burdening one another. We had enough going on. At the time, I thought that was how it should be. Now I’m not so sure. I do remember a feeling of loneliness but in a self-inflicted way.

Looking back, I spent years telling myself I was surrounded by friends whilst simultaneously making sure nobody really knew me.

All the Different Kinds of Friendship

Over the years, I’ve had all the different types of friendships. Playdate friendships. School gate friendships. Hot yoga-class friendships. Night-out friendships. The ones who only call you when they have good (or bad) news. Friends I’ve known for three decades and friends I’ve known for three months. Some that have lasted and those that fizzled out. Ones that ended spectacularly and others I just ghosted because emotionally I wasn't ready to deal with them. Sorry.

Then there are the ones I held on to long after I should have; convenience, our children were friends, I didn’t want to make a fuss, or because I couldn’t quite let go of the history we shared. Even when spending time with them made me feel secretly annoyed, or judged or flat. I spent years confusing familiarity with friendship. I’ve introduced friends who became closer to each other than they ever were to me. I’ve been left out. I’ve disappointed people. People have disappointed me. That’s life. Right?

When Friendship Gets Tested

So then what about those moments that really test a friendship. The times when life gets hard, which it inevitably does. A parent becomes ill. A relationship breaks down. Your mental health takes a wobble. Work becomes overwhelming. You’re struggling and trying to hold everything together.

And certain friends simply aren’t there.

The interesting thing is that we excuse it. We tell ourselves they’re busy. They didn’t know what to say. They have their own things going on. We cling to the history, the laughs, the holidays, the years we’ve known each other. Because facing the possibility that someone isn’t actually the friend we thought they were is uncomfortable. For a long time, I did exactly that.

Until... Yup, you guessed it.

Surprise Surprise, I reached my forties!

Turning Forty and the Countdown Clock

As much as reaching my fourth decade felt like a privilege, it also felt like someone had kick-started a giant countdown clock above my head. I now know that a lot of that unsettled, questioning-everything feeling had a hormonal fingerprint on it too, perimenopause has a way of forcing the reckoning, whether you're ready for it or not. For the first time, I became acutely aware that life wasn’t endless. There was a real sense of “it’s now or never, lady”. Stop talking about the thing and DO the bloody thing. Stop waiting and start living.

I was questioning old roles, expectations and versions of myself, and I was questioning my friendships too. What did loyalty actually mean? Not loyalty out of habit or history. True loyalty. Was there even such a thing?

Who Am I Doing the Rest of My Life With?

And somewhere in the middle of all of that, I found myself asking a different question. An important one. Who am I doing the rest of my life with? Not just my marriage. Not just my family. The women around me. It hit me that I wanted more. More depth, honesty, presence and truth.

I wanted to be able to share what I was really thinking and feeling without worrying about judgement, shame or being misunderstood. I wanted friendships where we could have the hard conversations, not just the fun ones. Friendships where we could celebrate wins without downplaying them and talk about struggles without pretending everything was fine.

Some of that meant trusting the women who were already in my corner and inviting them into a deeper space. It also meant being open to new friendships.

What a Life of Arrivals and Departures Taught Me

One of the unexpected gifts of living in a transient community here in Switzerland is that you meet people at every stage of life. People arrive. People leave. New friendships form all the time. Some last a season. Others become significant far more quickly than you ever expected. And that’s when it hit me.

The depth of a friendship isn’t measured by how long you’ve known someone. It’s measured by how willing both people are to show up.

It wasn’t my friendships that changed. It was me. I used to think longevity automatically meant significance. Now I think presence matters more. Looking back, I think I confused being low maintenance with being emotionally mature and independent. I thought needing very little from people was a strength. What I'm beginning to understand is that perhaps I had simply become very good at not asking for what I needed.

Perhaps it was conditioning.

Where the Low-Maintenance Habit Came From

Growing up in a South Asian family and culture, I was taught not to tell people too much. Good news. Bad news. Big plans. Exciting opportunities. Personal struggles. Keep it quiet. Don’t tempt fate. Don’t invite the evil eye. Don’t draw attention to yourself.

I understand where it came from. It wasn’t malicious. It was protective. It was cultural. It was passed down through generations of people who genuinely believed they were keeping you safe. But I’ve started wondering what happens when you carry that mindset into adulthood. How many friendships never had the chance to deepen because I spent years carefully editing myself.

Why Editing Yourself Kills Friendship

Because if you don’t share your struggles, how do people support you?

If you don’t share your wins, how do people celebrate you?

If you don’t tell people what you’re dreaming about, how do they cheer you on?

And if you spend your whole life being careful not to take up too much space, how do you build the kind of friendships that require you to be fully seen? What I thought was being private was actually self-protection and this so-called humility was actually fear. Being low maintenance was, at least in part, a lifetime of learning not to need or expect too much from anyone.

The problem is that friendship requires the exact opposite. It requires sharing. Vulnerability. Trust. It requires letting people witness your life, not just the edited highlights but the real messy bits too. And that’s exactly what I’ve found myself desperately craving now in midlife.

Midlife Has No Room for Surface Friendships

Because this stage of life is not for the faint-hearted. We’re losing parents. We’re raising toddlers and teenagers. We’re worrying about our health. We’re wondering what the next twenty years will look like. We’re carrying responsibilities from every direction while trying to work out who we are becoming in the middle of it all.

The WhatsApp groups alone are enough to finish you off. School groups. Sports groups. Work groups. Family groups. Community groups. Networking groups. The noise is relentless. Perhaps that’s why I no longer want friendships that live on the surface. I want friendships with substance.

The friend who insists you book the trip.

The friend who calls you out on your bullshit.

The friend who celebrates your wins without making them about themselves.

The friend who refuses to let you disappear when life gets hard.

The friend who keeps showing up.

And I want to be that friend too.

These days, I have a few mighty ones. Some live next door. Some live in another country. Some know every version of me. Some only know the version I’m becoming. It doesn’t matter how long we’ve known each other. It only matters if we’re willing to show up as our full selves. That’s the friendship standard I’ve set for myself now. I’m committed to bringing my whole self to the people I love. I feel secure and it feels amazing!