When the Group Chat Goes Quiet: Losing Friends in Hard Times

Reading Psalms 38 and 41 today, I noticed a theme I didn’t expect: the way people seem to disappear when things get hard.

In Psalm 38, the writer is overwhelmed by guilt and physical suffering. It’s a heavy scene. But what stood out to me wasn’t just the pain itself—it was the loneliness that came with it. "My friends and companions stand aloof from my plague," the psalm says, "and my nearest kin stand far off." It’s not subtle. The psalmist is hurting and everyone around them keeps their distance.

Psalm 41 and the Betrayal Breadstick

Psalm 41 hits a similar note but adds betrayal into the mix. "Even my close friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted his heel against me." There’s no indication here that the writer did anything to deserve this treatment. Illness alone seems to have shifted the dynamics.

Why Are We So Bad at Being There?

It’s a pattern that feels familiar, even outside a religious context. Being sick, depressed, or struggling in any visible way can make people uncomfortable. Sometimes friends vanish slowly. Sometimes they ghost you completely. And sometimes they smile and act supportive but quietly step back, unsure of how to engage.

I don’t think this is always about cruelty or selfishness. Often, it seems more about fear, awkwardness, or not knowing what to say. There’s a kind of cultural emphasis on fixing problems quickly—offering solutions, cheering people up, or staying positive. But these psalms don’t do that. They just name the hurt. There’s something raw about that. Something honest.

The Disappearing Act: What's Really Going On?

The question that lingers for me is: why do we back away from people in pain? Is it the discomfort of seeing something we can’t control? Is it worry that their situation might reflect something about our own vulnerability? Or is it just fatigue, the emotional cost of sitting with someone else's suffering when we don't have answers?

These ancient songs don’t offer a clear path forward. But they do put words to an experience that still happens. Whether or not someone believes in God, the social and emotional dynamics here are recognizable. Pain can isolate. Illness can change relationships. And sometimes the hardest part of suffering is realizing who’s not there anymore.

I’m not sure what to do with that yet. But it’s something I’ll keep watching for as I read on.