What Makes a Friend — The Quiet Strength of Real Connection

As we get older, friendship looks different. The best ones don’t need constant contact — they bring quiet peace, honesty, and steadiness through life’s chaos. This reflection explores what real connection means and why the friends who truly see you are worth holding onto.

Lou LaMedica

Oct 31, 2025

TABLE OF CONTENTS

What Makes a Friend

I’m writing this for my kids because who you surround yourself with matters more than almost anything else. Show me your five closest friends, and I’ll tell you who you are. Friendship isn’t about how many people you know. It’s about the few who truly know you. The company you keep shapes your character, your choices, and your peace. Choose them with care, because it matters.

When I was a kid, I never thought much about what made someone a friend. Friends were just the people who lived nearby or sat next to me in class. We played, laughed, shared snacks, and that was enough.

As I got older, that pattern stuck with me. I didn’t choose my friends; I just accepted whoever showed up. I bent myself into shapes that would make people stay. I was so afraid of being alone that I tolerated things I shouldn’t have. It’s a lonely way to live, like the Red Hot Chili Peppers said, “It’s so lonely when you don’t even know yourself.”

Here’s a story about that time in my life.

Looking back, I think I confused being liked with being known. I wanted connection so badly that I didn’t notice how one-sided some of those relationships were. I was the helper, the listener, the person who made things easier for others. I rarely asked for anything in return, and that kind of silence eventually starts to eat away at you.

The truth I’ve learned is that friendship should make you feel safe to be yourself. Not just the polished parts, but the messy, insecure, uncertain ones too.

As an adult, I’ve built boundaries.

Here’s how I learned to say no with empathy.

My peace, my family, and my mental health come first. The people I call friends have to fit within that, not because I’ve become closed off but because I’ve learned how costly it is to give your energy to the wrong people. Real friends don’t take more than they give. They ask questions, listen without agenda, and make you feel seen.

I came across something online once that really stayed with me. A therapist told a patient, “If you want to know whether you have a real relationship, mention something that excites you. If they engage, ask questions, show curiosity—that’s connection. But if they pivot back to themselves, you’re not in a relationship. You’re a placeholder, a helper, a vent.”

That hit home. It reminded me that friendship has to move in both directions. It’s not about keeping score, but about mutual presence.

As life goes on, what friendship looks like changes. When you have kids, you meet people through their worlds—on the baseball bleachers, in the classroom pickup line, at birthday parties. Some of those people stay acquaintances. Some become real friends. It takes time to know which is which.

A true friend brings a kind of quiet peace. They don’t try to solve your storms; they simply sit with you in them. You can drift apart for a while, but when you reconnect, it feels easy again, natural. They speak honesty without harm, keep your stories safe, and find joy in your wins even when they’re struggling. Real friendship, I’ve learned, is built on steadiness more than presence.

These days, that kind of friendship feels like an anchor. Life pulls in a hundred directions with kids, work, and everything else, and staying in touch isn’t always easy. But the real ones stay rooted. You pick up right where you left off, and in that moment you remember why they matter. The best friendships keep you grounded through it all, and you do your best to return that same steadiness back.

I tell my kids this: being kind matters, but so does honesty. Don’t hold your feelings inside to keep the peace. That kind of silence creates distance. Be brave enough to say what you need and how you feel.

That kind of courage is what keeps relationships real.

“Know what’s enough. Build what matters.”

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Lou LaMedica