I used to feel like I was a bad friend if I didn’t have a lot of people around me. I felt like there was “strength in numbers” and in a world where a social media following is a status symbol—I thought maybe if I had a big, fun, picture-perfect friend group that meant I was included, surrounded, and even popular.

When I was in transitional seasons in friendships, I always felt this familiar shame well up. Was there something wrong with me? Why were my friendships circles dwindling?

But over the past few years, I’ve settled into confidence in who I am as a friend as I’ve realized I don’t need more friends. I need the right friends.

I have lost a lot of friendships in my twenties, and statistically, that’s normal. This stage of life often pulls people in different directions, and even when we want to hang on to friendships, sometimes circumstances drive us to let go. While one friend is married with three kids, another is swiping on dating apps and praying for a promotion. I used to try to convince myself these differences shouldn’t matter—that friendship could transcend life’s circumstances—but the reality for me is that these things do have an impact.

And then, I went through trauma.

My pregnancy and birth experienced changed me in ways I couldn’t have predicted. My body and my mind needed time and space to heal. And in that process, my friendships shifted and adjusted, too.

This time, it wasn’t a job change or a move. It was a deeper shift in what I was walking through. I had to learn some hard lessons—how to protect a story, who to entrust a story to, who to hold at arms length, and who to give a front row seat invitation to.

There was a defining moment in many of my friendships. I saw the strengths of my different friends up close as they met me in different ways being the literal hands and feet of Jesus to me. I also got a close up look at some things I didn’t want to experience sometimes leaving conversations lonely, hurt and confused.

Sometimes, I blamed myself. Again hearing the ache of the question, am I a bad friend? I wondered if I was too sensitive, too distant, too much. But then there was this one particular defining moment.

I had a hard conversation with a close friend. I told her nervously about how something she said hurt me. I braced for rejection, excuses or defensiveness—but instead, she apologized. She shared her perspective while still giving me permission to have my experience of her previous words. We were able to walk through the conversation with honor and walk away from it with a stronger friendship. I felt like I had collected a moment of proof that friendships can withstand hard conversations.

Of course, this wasn’t how every experience went. I fumbled through learning what my boundaries were in certain friendships and learned where I was willing to make sacrifices and where I determined I didn’t need to.

I started to feel like I had a small yet mighty group of people around me. The kind of people you really want with you in the trenches and feel like they will give you the perfect dose of honesty and truth while still being sensitive and caring. They are people who love deeply and show up when it matters most. We can cry together—and we laugh together too.

Some friendships faded naturally, and others ended in ways that left hurtful wounds. In some cases, I admit that I probably tried to hold on for too long.

At times, I felt afraid to release a friendship that didn’t feel right to me anymore. It felt scary to think about being lonely. But whenever I let someone out of my life, I found that God would bring a new friendship in just at the right time.

Today I don’t have a massive friend group. But I have people I can trust to show up on my hardest days. I have friends who don’t just say what I want to hear but offer kindness, truth, and patience. I can show up to my friendships without fear or shame.

I joked with my husband that I can only be friends with people who have been to therapy. It’s not entirely true, but what I can say is true of my friends is that they understand and know themselves—good, bad, and everything in between. I’ve found I like being around people who have done the hard work of understanding their own hearts because it shows me they are a safe place for mine.

I have shifted from wanting a crowd to cherishing a few. I don’t need a big group of people to feel seen, secure, or like I’m a good friend. I need the right people—the people who God has placed in my life for right now. Some of them will be lifelong friends. Others will only last a season. But we are committed to making each other feel seen, safe, and loved.

Now that I know what this kind of friendship feels like, I can recognize quickly when it’s missing. Letting go of friendships can still be painful, but holding onto the right ones? That is a gift worth everything.