#29
Today I had a conversation with a friend that sparked something in me. She asked about someone I used to be close with, someone I had known for years. I told her that a conflict came up between us, and we weren’t able to resolve it. So, we’re no longer in touch.
Her immediate reaction was, “Wait… after all those years of friendship, he didn’t even fight for it?”
That question made me pause. What does fighting for even mean? It’s one of those phrases I’ve never fully understood. When people say “he didn’t fight for you” or “she didn’t fight to keep the connection,” what are they really saying?
As adults, we have tools. We have language. We have communication. To me, that is what fighting for something looks like. It is someone sitting with discomfort, owning their part, showing up with accountability, and initiating honest dialogue. That’s how we preserve or repair relationships.
But even more importantly, sometimes people don’t “fight” not because they don’t care, but because they’re overwhelmed by their own internal world. Trauma, fear, insecurity, avoidance. What looks like a lack of effort on the outside is often a deep inner battle we can’t see. And I think we need to acknowledge that.
The whole concept of “fighting for someone” might need a revision. It’s not always about persistence or pushing harder. Sometimes it’s about pause. About giving space. About letting people confront their own emotional terrain without demanding immediate resolution.
When someone respects the boundary you set, or even drifts away after a rupture, that might not be a failure of love or loyalty. It might just be part of their journey. Maybe they’ll circle back after growth. Maybe they won’t. But trying to label that outcome as “not fighting enough” simplifies something incredibly complex.
If someone recognizes that they weren’t their best self and they return with humility and changed behavior, that speaks louder than anything else. That’s the kind of accountability I value. And I hold myself to the same standard.
We’re all human. We all have flaws, boundaries, self-respect. But we also carry compassion, nuance, and the ability to grow. Everyone is on their own journey, learning at their own pace. Sometimes paths align. Sometimes they don’t. And both outcomes can be okay.
I’m always grateful for the time I’ve shared with people, even when those relationships don’t last. If I’ve clearly communicated my needs and those aren’t met, I take that as a sign. Not of rejection, but of misalignment. Of timing. Of differing readiness.
So, when someone doesn’t “fight for me,” I don’t make it personal. I see it as their own moment of emotional capacity, or lack thereof. Maybe they’ll find their way back. Maybe they won’t. But either way, I trust that whatever happens is part of both of our unfolding.
In the end, the real “fight,” if we’re going to call it that, isn’t about chasing people. It’s about learning ourselves. It’s about meeting others from a place of clarity, honesty, and emotional maturity. And that journey cannot be rushed, faked, or forced.