Friendships and Relationships: The Longings and the Limits

There’s a quiet frustration many of us carry in our relationships, especially if we’re aware, sensitive, and emotionally attuned. And it’s not because we’re petty or keeping score; it’s because we’re invested and we care. The frustration sounds something like this:

“I listen for hours when he’s struggling… but when I need support, it’s radio silence,” or 

“I’m always the one who remembers birthdays. She doesn’t even text on mine,” or 

“I’m the one who calls and plans every get-together… if I didn’t, would we even see each other?” or

“I bring up what’s bothering me. Soon after she changes the subject of our conversation back to herself.”

These frustrations within us come from a place of caring for the relationship. We remember birthdays because we value connection. We initiate conversations because we want closeness. We bring up hard things because we want the relationship to grow. The ache and frustration isn’t about being needy or demanding. It’s about love, investment, and wanting the connection to feel as mutual as the care we’ve given it.

I’ve been here too. A family member and I had a painful moment — a disagreement that left us both feeling hurt. I wanted to talk about it and work through it. I opened the door to connect and talk things through. I stayed open, I asked again later. But the conversation never came. They weren’t ready, or maybe didn’t know how. The connection stayed intact on the surface, but the repair I longed for never happened.

Sometimes it’s our friend. Sometimes it’s our parent, sibling, or other relative. And sometimes it’s our romantic partner.

Whoever it is, the feeling is the same: it sounds like frustration but deep inside it feels like heartbreak. There’s something you long for in the connection… some presence, some depth, some accountability, some repair… and it just isn’t happening.

Maybe you’ve tried to bring it up. Or maybe you’ve dropped hints, shared honestly about your own feelings and perspective, or held the door open for the conversation to go deeper with them. Or maybe you stayed quiet, hoping they’d sense the need without you having to ask.

When the Longing Meets the Limits

The longing alone keeps us in a frustrating place, and it can last a long time. Sometimes we hold it for weeks. Sometimes for months. And sometimes, if we love someone deeply, we carry that longing for years…  waiting for them to meet us in the way we’ve been longing for… waiting because we care… waiting because part of us still hopes.

And then one day, after all the effort and waiting, we inevitably encounter a hard realization quiet moment of truth: They might not be able to meet me how I want to be met.

Maybe there’s someone in your life…
…a friend who stopped reaching out.
…a parent who always stays on the surface.
…a sibling who avoids anything hard in your relationship.
…a partner or date who pulls away when things get real.

You’ve waited. You’ve hoped they’d say the thing, name the hurt, show up differently. But now… you’re starting to wonder if what you’re hoping for might not be possible with them.

At some point, after all the hints and invitations and hopes, it hits: They might not be able to meet me where I want to be met.

I remember exactly when it happened with my family member. A part of me wanted to let it go. Another part of me still wanted to wait, still wanted to believe that if I was just a little more patient, a little more understanding, if I explained it better or held on a little longer… they’d come around. They’d be able to engage like I engage.

But they didn’t. And I realized the connection might have to continue without the repair I wanted so badly. That was heartbreaking to me. It was such a tender moment… to acknowledge the limits of this other person. And it meant that I’d have to do something differently than how I’d been doing it all along.

Facing the Limits and Finding Yourself

It’s in that moment of truth when the ache really shifts from frustration to heartbreak… when you realize that “they just can’t give what I’m asking for, or they would’ve already”. And that moment changes everything.

The more we can acknowledge both sides — our longing and the limits — the more resourced we become. Because when you acknowledge the other person’s limits, it doesn’t mean you stop caring. It actually means you start caring for yourself and you can now begin to relate to the relationship from a place of inner alignment, from knowing yourself and taking care of yourself, rather than from the exhausting hope that maybe this time they’ll show up differently. You absolutely do keep caring — but from a place that doesn’t abandon YOU.

You absolutely do keep caring — but from a place that doesn’t abandon YOU.

That moment you come face to face with the person’s limits is a pure moment of truth. And it’s one that can feel sad and disorienting but also, sometimes, relieving. Because imagine pulling with your heart and mind and emotions for months or even years for something that may never come. It’s exhausting.

In my own relationship with my family member, this moment of truth came when I realized that I could finally stop pulling so hard on a rope that wasn’t moving. I could turn toward the parts of me that longed for more, and ask them: How can I care for you in the way you’ve been waiting for this other person to? How can I give you what you’ve been waiting for from them? It wasn’t giving up. It was giving myself back to myself.

And this is where the shift happens: Instead of trying to pull something from them that they don’t have the capacity to give, you start asking, How can I tend to the parts of me that still long for this? Where and how else can I meet these needs—in myself, in other good-feeling relationships, in my community, in my creative expression, in spiritual connection?

[If this is something you want to explore more deeply — how to tend to yourself, meet your own longings, and create relationships that feel good from the inside out — this is exactly what we explore in my Happy from the Inside Out course. You can learn more here if you’re interested].

And, part of tending to yourself might also mean gently asking: What kind of relationship feels right with this person, knowing who they are and what they can and can’t give?

It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Sometimes it means staying close, with new expectations. Sometimes it means loving them from more of a distance. Sometimes it means stepping back entirely. There’s no one right choice… only the one that lets you care for your own heart while honoring the truth of the connection.

Seeing the Limits Without Making Them Wrong

Something I want to make sure to mention is that this isn’t so much about making this other person into the bad guy; it’s about honoring you and what you need. Because so often, the hardest part isn’t spotting someone’s limits; it’s doing it without turning them into the villain.

Maybe they avoid repair because they were never taught how to have those conversations.
Maybe they keep things on the surface because vulnerability feels dangerous to them.
Maybe they forget dates or details because their attention is always split.

Maybe they haven’t called because they’ve been going through a hard season of life and don’t feel like talking to anyone.

It’s not an excuse, but it’s also not necessarily a sign they don’t care.

And, this is where the question “What do I know about this person?” becomes grounding. Asking ourselves, “What have they consistently shown me?”, “What’s been true over time?,” and “How can I adjust my expectations based on what’s real, rather than on the hope they’ll suddenly become somebody else?”

This isn’t resignation; it’s clarity and it’s wisdom in action. It’s choosing to stop exhausting yourself by trying to pull more than they can give, and instead tending to what you need in ways that keep you feeling loved and whole.

Some Questions to Reflect On

If this is hitting close to home today, here are some questions you can ask yourself: 

• Is there someone I’m quietly hoping will show up differently?
  
• What am I most longing for from them?
  
• What part of me keeps waiting—and what feels scary about letting go of that hope?
  
• What’s one small way I could begin to give myself the care I’ve been waiting and hoping for from them?
  
• What might shift if I related from alignment inside of me instead of waiting?

 And remember, you’re allowed to keep loving the people in your life. You’re allowed to want more than they can give. You’re allowed to feel the ache of what’s missing. You’re allowed to meet the parts of you that still long for more with care. And, you’re allowed to also choose the kinds of relationships that protect your heart. Your longing isn’t wrong in any way… it’s a sign of how much capacity for love and connection you have.