Not Just Anyone Belongs in Your Circle (And That’s OK)

bronwyn donoghue
Sep 1
2 min read

They say friendship takes time, and they’re right. But they never told us how much work it takes too.

Two women lying on grass, smiling with eyes covered by each other's hands. Floral patterns and yellow flowers surround them, creating a joyful mood.

Not the kind of work that feels heavy or forced, but the kind that asks you to show up, raw, real, and ready to look at yourself in the mirror of someone else’s presence.

As a spiritual person, navigating friendship can feel like navigating an emotional labyrinth. It’s not just about who’s fun to have lunch with or who sends the best memes. It’s about energy transactions, consciousness exchanges. It’s about finding the rare soul who reflects back the parts of you you’ve tried to hide, deny, or still haven’t even met yet.

Reflection of a person in a puddle on a gravel surface. The person wears black boots and pants, standing still. Moody, overcast atmosphere.

Let’s be honest, emotional intelligence isn’t a given. Commitment to self-work? Even rarer. People who can name their spiritual ego, acknowledge their trauma, and own their triggers? Practically unicorns.

And that’s why my circle is small.Because I see people, not just their words, but their energy.I see the deflections cloaked in humor, the projection wrapped in “I’m just being honest,” the withdrawal masquerading as boundaries. And I don’t judge it, I just read it.

Every interaction is a reflection of someone’s consciousness. They’re showing you where they’re at. Not to be analyzed, but to be understood, with compassion, curiosity, and awareness.

So what happens when a friend triggers you?

Do you pull away, labeling it “boundaries” but silently punishing them with distance? Do you spiritual bypass it all, “I’m fine, I’m just protecting my peace”? Or do you sit in it, the discomfort, the sting, the rise of old wounds, and ask, What part of me is responding here?

Because here’s the truth: Your response is never about them. It’s about you.

A friend may spark something, but what catches fire is your own stored pain, avoidant attachment, wounds from lovers, family, or even that Year 5 bestie who ghosted you before ghosting was a word. And that is the soul work of friendship.

Two women in white dresses hold hands on an empty road at sunset, with mountains in the background, creating a serene and joyful scene.

If you’re lucky, really lucky, you’ll find the kind of friend who’s a mirror, a map, and a megaphone. The one who will call you out and call you in.

The kind of person who’ll say,“Bronwyn, you really shouldn’t have said that… also, you’re f*cked.”And I’ll reply, “Yep, I know.”And then we laugh, because truth, when it’s shared in love, lands with softness.

It took me 50 years to find that kind of friend, And when I did, it felt like discovering a part of me I didn’t know was missing.

Friendship, real friendship, isn’t about validation or surface-level connection. It’s a container for growth, a soul contract, a safe place to unpack not just the joy, but the grief, the shame, the patterns you picked up in romantic or family relationships. It’s where you alchemize pain into power.

Two people in denim jackets embrace, wearing flower crowns. They walk away on a grassy path, creating a serene, nature-filled scene.

So if you’ve found that kind of person, hold them close.And if you haven’t yet, keep doing your work.Because when you meet them, they’ll recognize the healed version of you, not the one who’s still trying to prove or perform.

And that, my love, is the kind of friendship that helps grow a soul.