Exclusive: Former health secretary says upfront investment in support is needed ‘if we are going to end the Neet crisis’

Ministers should cut welfare spending to fund more employment support if it wants to end the youth Neet crisis, the author of a government-led review has said.

Alan Milburn, the Tony Blair-era health secretary, told the Guardian he believed ministers should reduce benefits payments to help pay for more employment support, opening a potentially contentious debate within the Labour party over welfare cuts.

• Heidi Widmer is a 35-year-old who moved into an apartment building in Los Angeles in July.
• For the first two weeks, she heard a loud sound from the apartment above and was annoyed.
• She found out the noise was being made by her neighbor, who has Parkinson's.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Heidi Widmer. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In July, I moved into an apartment in Los Angeles, exhausted from a six-day drive across the country from New York. All I wanted to do was get into the apartment and sleep, and luckily, my bed had been delivered on the same day I arrived.

Trying to fall asleep at 2 a.m., all I could hear was a loud noise coming from the apartment upstairs. It sounded as if someone was bowling. Although I was tempted to shout for them to be quiet, I held my tongue — I was the new neighbor and didn't want to be difficult.

But the noise just didn't seem to stop. Whoever lived up there also never came downstairs. Who lives up there? I thought to myself.

I realized my neighbor had Parkinson's

Two weeks after moving in, I heard someone coming down the stairs and had to get a glimpse of who lived above me.

Peeking out of my door, I saw Carole for the first time, slowly making her way down the stairs, shaking badly from what was clearly Parkinson's, and trying to carry a bunch of bags full of recycling.

Just as I was about to open the door to see if she needed help, she dropped all the bags with only a couple of steps left. I burst out of my apartment to help her.

"Oh my gosh, thank you," she said in her sweet British accent. "Did you just move in? Am I too loud for you?"

In that moment, I felt totally and completely humbled.

Having grown up in the Catholic church, I was taught never to judge a book by its cover, and with Carole, I hadn't even seen the cover. I judged her simply by the noise she produced upstairs. How could I be so judgmental?

It turns out that sound had been Carole rolling a three-wheeled, broken chair across her floor to get to her mini fridge — the mini fridge social services had given her when her refrigerator broke. She had to hoist herself out of her broken chair to get down and access the mini fridge.

That was the noise.

I was determined to figure out what I could do to help

Two days after we met, I knocked on her door. She peeked through and nervously let me in. The conditions inside weren't great.

Although she can live independently, she just needs a little help. I later learned that she doesn't like accepting help from people, especially social services. The fact that she is frightened of the very people meant to help her breaks my heart.

That day, I took all of her trash out for her, reassuring her I wasn't judging her at all.

In the weeks and now months that have followed, I have been up to Carole's to help with the trash, cooking (she'd only been having microwave meals), cleaning, and contacting the landlord to get him to replace and repair items in the apartment. We've decorated her apartment, too.

I raised $80,000 to help her out

Together, we made her an Amazon wish list, and I shared it on social media so that people could order things she needs and have them delivered directly to her. People have been so generous, purchasing things like an expensive Buddhist "butsudan" that Carole didn't expect anyone to buy.

We set up a GoFundMe, which has raised about $80,000, and we plan to use the funds to have a stair lift installed for her. Any leftover money will be spent on in-home care as she continues to age and her Parkinson's Disease progresses.

I know I've been helpful to Carole in these last few months, but she's been the perfect person at the perfect time for me, too. Moving to LA, I had hardly any connections. Lots of Carole's family members are either no longer living or back in the UK (she moved here in her 20s as an au pair).

Carole became the family I haven't had, and I became hers. We text back and forth each day, and I see her most days. She calls me granddaughter, and I see her as my grandmother.

When I've had a hard day at work teaching at a local middle school, Carole is ready to give me a big hug when I get home. She's been my safe space, and I've been hers. The universe knew we needed each other.

It's an unlikely connection, but it shows that when you lead with kindness rather than judgment, the person you were ready to judge can become someone you can't imagine your life without.

In the three weeks since a health worker’s death in Siberia, officials have stonewalled the WHO – setting a worrying precedent for future pandemics

Is there a plague outbreak in Russia? If the answer were a clear yes, there shouldn’t be much reason to worry. With swift medical intervention, plague is treatable. But in the nearly three weeks since a worker at a Siberian plague research unit died of a mysterious respiratory illness, state officials have been consistently tight-lipped about what happened and whether there were any further cases.

It is this uncertainty that has the World Health Organization (WHO) and international community worried: partly because there is a – very small – risk of an outbreak, and partly because it is yet another warning that the international coordination we rely on to prevent pandemics is fraying along with the rest of international politics, and could easily fail to protect us in the future.

Pope Leo XIV thanked thousands of faithful in St. Peter's Square on Sunday for their prayers while he was hospitalized for an operation to remove a malignant tumor, and said he plans to gradually return to his usual duties.

The post ‘With God’s Help and Your Prayers’: Pope Leo Tells Faithful He Will Slowly Resume Duties After Cancer Surgery appeared first on Breitbart.

• My family of five moved from a small country town to a city earlier this year.
• I wanted to spend more time with my parents, and there is plenty to love about the city.
• However, I miss the slower pace of life and the close-knit community.

I've always been a city mouse, so when we decided to move from Melbourne, Australia, to Bright in country Victoria in 2021, I wasn't sure how long I'd last. Our family ended up falling in love with the slower pace of life and the people, and spent four years in the small alpine town at the foothills of the Victorian Alps.

But in January, we moved from Bright to the Gold Coast, where I grew up. My parents' health was declining, and I wanted to spend quality time with them before it was too late.

Moving from a small regional town of fewer than 3,000 people to a city of almost 700,000 was a profound lifestyle shift for our family of five. We had to make new friends, learn how to navigate a traffic light again (joking!), and get used to the buzzing city life.

Overall, we've gained a lot from moving to the city, and I feel it's been especially beneficial to our kids, as it's helped build resilience. But there are definitely things about country life that I do miss, if I'm being honest.

Life is full of trade-offs, and we've definitely made a few.

We've gained convenience and accessibility

In country Victoria, our nearest major retailer was an hour's drive away. If the kids needed new shoes or I needed new underwear, off we'd drive to the nearest major town. It often felt like a mission just to access simple amenities.

Nowadays, everything we need is at our fingertips. If we want to eat Italian one night and Nepalese the next, we can. The Gold Coast has all the amenities we need, and a good mix of beaches, hinterland hikes, nightlife, festivals, and an up-and-coming food scene.

There are more career and education opportunities

Cities generally offer better career and education opportunities, without a doubt. In our family, my husband has probably benefited the most in that regard.

When we moved here in January, he expanded his Muscle Freedom remedial massage and myotherapy business and started a clinic on the Gold Coast. Since then, the opportunities have been incredible, and he's treated some of Australia's biggest sporting identities. That would likely never have happened in country Victoria (unless they were holidaying there).

Likewise, our kids seem to be thriving at school and in their extra-curricular activities, many of which were unavailable where we used to live.

I enjoy the anonymity, and the diversity here is also a big plus

When I was having a bad mental health day in Bright, there was no escaping friends and family (bless them). Once, at the supermarket, I was weeping in the bread aisle, only to be greeted by my husband's cheerful colleague, who was keen to chat about the weather. I wanted to scream and run away.

In the city, I quite enjoy the anonymity and being a number in the crowd, especially on harder days.

I also love having access to a diverse range of art, music, entertainment, and food on the Gold Coast. After four years living in the country, I began to feel a bit starved of culture.

My kids are also mingling with children from different backgrounds and walks of life, which I am really happy about.

However, we miss having nature at our doorstep, and wide open spaces

Bright is surrounded by mountains, forests, rivers, and cycling trails, with gorgeous national parks a short drive away. It really is a smorgasbord of activities for outdoor enthusiasts.

The Gold Coast has plenty of sunshine and offers some spectacular natural scenery, but you do have to drive to access it. I've actually put on a few kilos living in the city, and I think it's mainly because I'm not walking or cycling as much.

When we recently returned to Bright for a family holiday, I realized how much I've missed those wide open spaces. The air seems to feel fresher there.

Living in suburbia on the Gold Coast, the blocks are tighter, and some areas feel like the properties are on top of each other. Even as I write this, I can overhear the next-door neighbor arguing with her husband about his messy household habits.

I also miss the close-knit community and slower pace

I've been lucky enough to make some wonderful friends on the Gold Coast. The kind who check in on us when we're sick or offer to babysit if my husband and I need a night out. But it also seems that people are busier in the city, and get-togethers happen less often.

In a small town like Bright, it's easier to catch up with people because everyone lives close by. I found that living in the country helped me form deeper connections with friends. That brought a sense of security, knowing that someone always has your back.

Since moving to the city, life has felt frantic. For the first six months, every weekend was jam-packed with catch-ups with family and new and old friends.

In a small country town, the pace of life was much slower. Recently, while we were holidaying in Bright, I felt my shoulders relax, and my stress levels decrease. There's something to be said for a simple life.

What our next chapter holds

We'd intended to give the Gold Coast 12 months and then make a call about where to base ourselves long-term. But now that we're almost at that mark, we've realized it's too soon to make a decision.

And so, we'll be spending 2027 here, then reassessing our options late next year. Part of me craves the open skies, fresh mountain air, and the stillness I took for granted in the country, but I'm also enjoying having Aldi a kilometer away and more choices overall.

I suppose at the end of the day, there's no perfect place to live, just places that suit you at different life stages. For now, the Gold Coast is giving us convenience, variety, and time with my folks, and I intend to enjoy the best of what city life has to offer.

• Sometimes I have to take my child out of school for healthcare appointments.
• Perfect attendance can depend on health, access to care, and whether a parent can leave work.
• I'd rather schools reward kids for showing up after hard times than for perfect attendance.

Whenever I schedule an appointment during the school day, I feel guilty.

I ask for their latest available appointment. If that doesn't work, I pull up the school calendar. Then I start doing the ridiculous parent math: How long is the drive? What class will my child miss? Can I get them back before the final bell? Is there some magical way to make a 10:30 appointment happen without blowing up half the school day? Usually, there isn't. So I take the appointment.

I'm a mother in rural North Carolina. Healthcare providers aren't always five minutes down the road, and appointments that fit perfectly between school dismissal and dinner aren't exactly falling from the sky. Sometimes the appointment you need is at 10:30 a.m. on a Tuesday. And sometimes you take it. I still feel guilty about it almost every time.

I want my child in school. Of course I do. I know how quickly one missed class can turn into a missing assignment, which then becomes another assignment they don't understand because they missed the first one. But I also have to take care of my child. Sometimes those two responsibilities bump right into each other. And that's probably why perfect-attendance awards have always bothered me.

My child is my priority

I understand why schools care about attendance. Kids need to be in classrooms. They need instruction, routine, relationships with teachers and classmates, and all the little pieces of school that are hard to recreate at home. When a child is missing a lot of school, I absolutely think families should be supported in figuring out why and helping that child get back into a routine.

But perfect attendance is something different. An unbroken attendance record isn't necessarily a measure of how hard a child tried. Kids don't choose when they get the flu. They don't control when the specialist finally has an opening. They can't give their parents paid time off, fix the car when it won't start, make the school bus come down a road it doesn't serve, or move a doctor's office 45 minutes closer to home.

The certificate may have a child's name printed on it, but there's a whole lot of family circumstance behind that streak. I work for myself, which gives me more flexibility than many parents have. I can move things around when an appointment pops up. That doesn't mean the lost work hours don't matter, but I can usually make it happen.

A parent working an hourly job may be making a completely different calculation. Can I afford to lose three hours of pay? Will my boss be irritated? How many times have I already had to leave early this year?

And that's before we even get into transportation, housing instability, access to healthcare, chronic illness, or any of the other things families may be dealing with that nobody sees when the certificates get handed out. Those circumstances matter. They just aren't evidence that one child tried harder than another.

One sick day shouldn't erase a year's worth of effort

As parents, we already have to make enough judgment calls when our kids are sick. Is this a stay-home sick or a send-them-and-see sick? Are they actually exhausted or just really, really not interested in going to math?

We're told attendance matters. And it does. We're also told to keep our kids home when they're contagious because sending them to school sick exposes others to illness. Both things can be true.

Then we turn around and give an award for never missing a day. That's where I get stuck. One fever in October can knock a child out of the running for an award handed out in June.

I don't want to hesitate before keeping my sick child home because some part of my brain is thinking about an attendance record. And I definitely don't want my child learning that dragging yourself through school when you feel awful is proof that you're more dedicated.

Sometimes staying home is the responsible choice. Sometimes missing school for an appointment is the responsible choice. And sometimes the impressive part isn't never missing school at all, it's coming back.

I'd rather see schools recognize persistence

I'm not suggesting schools stop caring whether kids come to school. Chronic absenteeism is a real problem, and families dealing with it may need more support, not less. But perfection doesn't have to be the prize.

Recognize the kid whose attendance improved from one grading period to the next. Celebrate shorter milestones. Acknowledge the student who had a rough stretch and worked their way back into a routine.

Despite my views, I know I'll keep doing the school-day appointment math. I'll keep asking for the latest opening. I'll keep checking the calendar. I'll keep trying to minimize what my child misses and help them catch up when missing school can't be avoided. And I'll probably still feel a little guilty every time.

My child may never earn a perfect-attendance award. I'm fine with that. I'd much rather they learn that taking care of themselves is responsible, staying home when they're contagious is considerate, and showing up again after a hard stretch is something worth being proud of.

• Of course I'm a fun aunt, but I've figured out a way to be so much more to my nieces and nephew.
• Spending meaningful one-on-one time with each of them has deepened our relationships.
• My "Auntie Emily Days" let each child enjoy personalized adventures based on their unique interests.

You know those TikToks about the childless, traveling aunt? The one who's somehow always at an airport, has a suspicious amount of money, occasionally shows up with gifts she definitely didn't need to buy (while carrying yet another new designer purse), and is never quite sure what time zone she's in? Yep, that's me.

For years, I happily embraced the stereotype. I'd swoop in for birthdays and holidays, always say yes to dessert (and extra dessert), create a little chaos, then head back to my own wonderfully independent life.

I assumed I understood the assignment. Bring the snacks. Buy the birthday presents. Show up to holidays with something fun tucked under my arm. Be loud, be silly, make them laugh, then hand them back to their parents when the day was over. It was the best kind of job. I got all the joy without much of the responsibility.

Or so I thought.

As my nieces and nephew got older, I realized something that surprised me: I wasn't really getting to know them as they were maturing into their own people. I had to ask their moms what they wanted for birthdays, or worse, I just bought out the toy section at Target and hoped something would stick. I also didn't know who they were when they didn't have to compete for attention or weren't trying to impress me with the farthest throw, the coolest dive into the pool, or the biggest burp. That's when "Auntie Emily Days" were born.

Their day reflects their personality

Rather than trying to squeeze meaningful time into crowded family gatherings, I started planning one-on-one adventures with each child — all seven of them.

Before we get together, they give me a guideline of what they want to do, and then I execute. Sometimes it's easy; dinner at The Melting Pot and a few hours spent at a cat café. Sometimes it's a bit more complicated with a sleepover at the Freehand (it has bunk beds!) and sightseeing in New York City.

Yes, I pull out all the stops I can, like ice skating at Wollman Rink and dinner at Bad Roman for one; an Oheka Castle lunch and manicure/pedicure with Starbucks for another; calling in a favor for on-field access for my nephew. Then each goes home with a little gift to remind them of the day.

But the itinerary is never really the point. The point is that each child gets a day built entirely around their interests. For a few uninterrupted hours, they don't have to compromise with a sibling or wait their turn. They feel seen, heard, and don't have to compete for attention. And that's when I started seeing parts of their personalities I might have otherwise missed.

They're different when they're one-on-one

While I have a firm grasp on all of their personalities, it was shocking to me how different they were one-on-one. Emma is the coolest kid and thankful for every experience, treating every moment as if it's the best she's ever had. Zoë can turn almost anything into a joke and somehow finds the fun walking through the most crowded street in New York. Jessica is analytical and technical, but away from her sisters, her wonderfully goofy sense of humor takes over. Jocelyn has a confidence and spunk that's impossible to ignore, yet she's remarkably intuitive. JJ is quieter than the rest, preferring to observe first and ask thoughtful questions later. Isabelle is sweet, demure, and quiet, and simply a joy to be around. And baby Isla is a force of nature I know I'm going to love hanging out with when she gets a bit older.

Without siblings or parents nearby, they open up completely. They tell me about school friendships, worries they haven't shared with anyone else, and things they're excited about. I may not run back and tell their parents everything, but it may give me a little sway over the Christmas list. It's amazing what children reveal when they feel like someone is listening only to them.

Connection isn't built at birthday parties

The biggest surprise wasn't how much I learned about them; it was how much they began trusting me.

I'm not their parent. I don't have to enforce bedtime, nag them to do homework, or beg them to get off their tablet. But I'm also not just the adult who appears a few times a year with presents.

Over time, they learned that our conversations stay between us unless they need my help. They've discovered that they can tell me about a bad day without worrying I'll immediately relay every detail to their parents. That doesn't mean I keep dangerous secrets. It means I respect them enough to let them own their stories. That trust changes everything and, I believe, will be vital as they age.

The moments that matter most stay with us

When I think back on our days together, it isn't always the tickets or the destinations that stand out. It's sharing French fries while they tell me their new favorite joke or something silly their sibling did. It is being absolutely frozen on the deck of the Staten Island Ferry staring at the Statue of Liberty because it was on our list. Or hearing an unfiltered opinion about school, extracurriculars, or something bothering them. It's watching them become confident enough to order for themselves at a restaurant — and then hearing they are doing that at home, too. It's nice when you realize a conversation we had in the car or a little encouragement during one of our adventures didn't end when I dropped them off.

For a long time, I assumed choosing not to have children meant I'd miss out on watching kids grow up. I couldn't have been more wrong. I get a front-row seat to their lives, just from a different seat. I get to celebrate their milestones, encourage their interests, answer the occasional hard question, and then, yes, send them home to their parents at the end of the day. It turns out that's exactly the role I was meant to have.

Showing up is more than just being around

I don't make every baseball game, I'm not in the audience for every cheer competition, I can't be there every Saturday. But now I know that the intentional time I had with each child carries a bigger weight than just showing up, saying hello, giving them a hug, and going home.

By carving out uninterrupted time with each child, I've been able to create something that doesn't happen naturally in the chaos of their family life, or in my own solo life.

Yes, I will always be the fun aunt, but instead of just "she was around," my intention has become "she showed up." I want them to remember having someone who listened without interrupting, who asked questions because she genuinely wanted to know the answer,; who made space for their interests, even when they weren't her own. Not someone who just said, "Sure, you can have another piece of cake, I don't care." (While still also allowing them to have more cake.)

Exclusive: rules on same-sex wards could lead to delays in care, discrimination and animosity between groups, finds internal assessment

Trans people could face delays and a greater risk of “corridor care” under new NHS England guidance that means they will no longer be able to use same-sex wards, according to an internal report.

An NHS England impact assessment, seen by the Guardian, stated that trans people may also potentially experience discrimination and this could lead to them “avoiding accessing healthcare at all”.

Pope Leo XIV made a remarkable return to the Vatican on Sunday, appearing before thousands of Catholic faithful in St. Peter's Square just five days after undergoing surgery to remove a cancerous tumor from his lung.

The 71-year-old pontiff delivered his traditional Angelus prayer from a window overlooking the square, marking his first official engagement since being discharged Saturday from Rome's Gemelli hospital, where doctors removed the lower lobe of his right lung.

Leo thanked the faithful for their prayers and support throughout his hospitalization, saying his recent health struggles had brought him closer to those suffering from illness. He also expressed gratitude to the doctors, nurses and hospital staff who cared for him following the operation.

POPE LEO XIV DISCHARGED FROM HOSPITAL, WILL RETURN TO VATICAN AFTER SURGERY TO REMOVE LUNG CANCER

The first American-born pope said he planned to gradually resume his regular activities with God's help and the continued prayers of the faithful.

During his Angelus address, Leo reflected on one of Jesus' best-known teachings, "Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's," urging Christians to live with integrity and resist hypocrisy.

His return came sooner than expected after doctors initially anticipated a hospital stay of approximately one week following Tuesday's surgery.

As he departed the hospital on Saturday, the pope told a reporter in English that he was doing "much better."

Claire Holland, visiting from Jacksonville, Fla., told The Associated Press she felt "very blessed" to witness the pope's return.

"I think there have been millions and millions of prayers. And he is a strong determined man, and I am so happy that he is feeling well enough to do this," Holland said.

POPE LEO UNDERGOES BLOOD TESTS, X-RAY FOLLOWING CANCER SURGERY, VATICAN SAYS

The surgery marked the first major health crisis of Leo's 17-month pontificate. Doctors confirmed that the tumor was adenocarcinoma, the most common form of lung cancer.

Doctors are conducting further testing on the tumor and surrounding lymph nodes to determine the extent of the disease and whether additional treatment, including chemotherapy, immunotherapy or targeted therapy, may be necessary.

The pope is scheduled to visit Uruguay, Argentina and Peru from Nov. 6 through Nov. 17, a demanding itinerary that includes a dozen flights and two helicopter rides to high-altitude destinations.

His surgeon, Dr. Stefano Margaritora, told Vatican News on Saturday that the pope appears well enough to go on the trip.

"The Holy Father has put his heart and soul into his recovery," Margaritora said, adding that he expected Leo to recover fully from the surgery "in another 10 days or so."

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE FOX NEWS APP

"As for a long trip involving air travel in about three weeks, I would say there are no clinical reasons why it should not take place," Margaritora said.

Fox News’ Courtney Walsh and The Associated Press contributed to this report.

• I'm a lawyer who decided to work in AI to try to get ahead of this technological curve.
• Over the last two years, I've struggled to keep up because AI is advancing faster than I expected.
• I feel overwhelmed and burned out by the constant conversations around AI.

For most of my career, I was a lawyer. There was something reassuring about how expertise worked in law. The longer I practiced, the more I knew.

But after years in a demanding profession, I burned out. It wasn't that I stopped enjoying law. I just needed a change.

Around two years ago, I started shifting my career toward AI because I thought it was the future. I didn't want to wake up 10 years later and realize technology had changed my profession without me.

It seemed like the smartest career move I could make. Now, I'm not so sure.

Joining the AI boom early seemed like the perfect career move

I made the transition while the AI boom was still gaining momentum. Ironically, I landed a job at a legal tech company thanks to a conversation with ChatGPT. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to combine my experience with my growing interest in tech.

My role involved testing the most advanced models, comparing their capabilities, and exploring how they could be used in legal work. I felt like I was ahead of a major change rather than trying to catch up with it.

I also became the go-to person for anything AI-related among my family and friends. People would ask me which tools to use, whether AI would replace their jobs, or what I thought about the latest developments. I enjoyed being the person who seemed to understand something that everyone was suddenly talking about.

But that feeling didn't last as long as I expected. Slowly, I began to realize that this wasn't just another new technology. It was something evolving at an almost frightening pace. And being close to it didn't necessarily mean being able to keep up with it.

What initially felt like an advantage was gradually becoming a source of pressure.

Things that took me weeks to learn or build became obsolete almost overnight

New frontier AI models and companies seemed to arrive every few weeks, each promising capabilities that the previous lacked. Just as I began understanding one model, another would appear, forcing me to reconsider everything I thought I knew about what AI could and couldn't do. There was barely enough time to breathe before "the next big thing" came.

What frustrated me most was how quickly my own work could lose its value. I spent weeks developing solutions to problems that a newer model could suddenly solve within a few minutes. Things I had carefully learned a couple of months earlier became unnecessary after a single product announcement. It was strange to put so much effort into something only to discover that the technology had already overtaken me.

And the constant learning didn't stop when I finished work. AI was everywhere. It was in the news, on social media, in conversations with friends, and in almost every discussion about the future of work. Sometimes, after spending an entire day testing models, the last thing I wanted to hear about was another breakthrough.

Yet I still felt an obligation to read about it, afraid that missing a single development could leave me even further behind. I was getting tired.

Accepting uncertainty became the only way forward

For years, I had measured my professional progress by how much I knew and how confident I felt about my abilities. AI challenged that completely. I began to question whether being good at my job meant knowing the latest developments or simply knowing how to adapt as everything changed. It was uncomfortable to accept that experience and hard work might not always provide the certainty I was used to.

I also started questioning how much of my personal time I was willing to sacrifice to stay relevant. I didn't want every conversation, evening, or weekend to become another opportunity to learn or talk about AI. I began making a conscious effort to disconnect after work, even if that meant missing an announcement or falling behind on the latest developments. For the first time, I was choosing not to know everything.

I don't regret moving into AI, but I no longer feel as certain about the decision as I once did. The technology isn't going to slow down. All I know for sure is that we are living through one of the most important inflection points in recent history, and perhaps that's what makes it all so overwhelming.

• I used to push myself at work, outearning myself year after year.
• When my dad died, and I heard how people talked about him, I reevaluated my approach.
• Now, I still make enough to cover what I need, but I'm living a fuller life.

I'm a reformed workaholic. I'd love to say I slowly came to realize that my value isn't monetary or based on how high I can climb a ladder, but that epiphany wasn't achieved in a growth-centric way. Instead, it was a surprising side effect of losing my dad suddenly in September 2024. He was there, and just like that, he was gone. And my willingness to burn myself out died that day, too.

In the flurry of administrative chaos and world-wrecking grief that follows sudden death, it took a while for me to notice the change. It was normal to work less while grieving. Except it's now almost two years later — and yes, I'm still very much grieving — but I am back in the flow of working. And it looks completely different.

I had been working hard for years

When I was balancing full-time teaching with a writing side hustle, I regularly pulled ridiculous hours, working from 7 am until late at night. Not only that, but I was also frequently working both weekend days and throughout school vacation. I even had an accident in May 2024 that put me out of work while my arm was in a sling to help the broken bones heal, but once I was back, I hit my highest earning month of all time. But then my dad died, and I just don't care the way I used to.

There wasn't an inheritance that suddenly made working optional. And it's not all-consuming depression either — the months that followed were immensely dark, but I'm doing really well from a mental health perspective now. Instead, there's been a reshuffling of priorities. My identity fundamentally shifted in 2024. I came entirely too close to dying in an accident while riding horses, where doctors couldn't fathom how I survived without paraplegia, and then, mere months later, my dad had a heart attack at 65.

The way people spoke about my dad made me want to live a fuller life

The eulogies poured in for my dad, who was a beloved doctor. Hundreds of people messaged us, telling stories of my dad's generosity, his kindness, adventurous spirit, talent, sense of humor, and utter chaos.

The sheer number of anecdotes was almost mythical, as it seemed impossible that someone could do so much with their time. My dad even started kitesurfing in his 50s because he thought it would be cool, and regularly drove hours out of town to reach the nearest dam to do it. His last kiting session was the week before he died. He was an astronomer, a chess player, an artist, a rugby fanatic, a dear friend, a dedicated husband, and the best dad anyone could wish for.

It made me look at my own life. I was out-earning myself, year after year. But I lived in a city that gave me little joy, and my hobbies were…well, just reading. And often, I was only reading self-help books to help me earn more or be more productive.

It's not that I took a step back from work. I just didn't step forward again. I have ongoing luxury travel copywriting clients. I still do a fair bit of journalism and a little bit of coaching essay writers. I ensure I earn enough to make ends meet — pay my mortgage, set aside money for my retirement, health insurance, and so on, but that's it. Once that goal is met each month, my foot comes off the accelerator, and I focus on life instead.

I moved to the coast and qualified as an advanced open water scuba diver. I knock off early on Fridays to hit the beach if it's a nice day, and I'm dabbling in surfing. I've started lifting weights. I have more friends than I've ever had before. I've started painting, and my guitar has been dusted off and tuned again.

I don't have it all worked out. I'm still trying to figure out what life without my dad can possibly look like. I just know how much life he crammed into the years he had, and the best way I can honor him is to try to do the same.

• Ultra-processed foods are everywhere, but some additives are worse than others.
• Elizabeth Dunford is a nutrition epidemiologist who studies additives and health issues.
• She avoids two types of additives when she sees them on a food label.

Elizabeth Dunford isn't trying to make grocery shopping an impossible task.

Dunford is a nutrition epidemiologist who studies additives in ultra-processed foods and their impact on health.

It's not realistic to avoid packaged foods altogether, Dunford, who is based at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, told Business Insider. They make up around 70% of the US food supply.

So, she focuses on buying foods for her family that have a low "additive load" overall.

"I try and avoid things in general that have a lot of additives, but you can't avoid everything," said Dunford, who is a mom of two. "If you pick it up, you turn it over, and you don't recognize half the ingredients, it's probably not a good choice," she said.

She has taught her kids that eating enough vegetables, protein, and calcium will "keep their brains and bodies healthy," and that there's a time and a place for treats, but it's not good to have too many. "It is the everyday food and drink choices that really matter to me," Dunford said.

Ultra-processed foods contain ingredients you wouldn't find in a regular kitchen, like emulsifiers and thickening agents. They tend to be ultrapalatable, meaning they contain an irresistible combination of sugar, salt, and fat, and have long shelf lives. They can be anything from potato chips and soda to packaged bread and yogurt.

A diet high in this type of food has been linked to a higher risk of chronic diseases, including type two diabetes, cardiovascular disease, cancer, and depression.

While she finds it unrealistic to cut out all additives, Dunford shared the two additives that she won't buy.

Synthetic dyes

Dunford avoids buying products that contain synthetic dyes for herself and her family. "I will allow it at a birthday party. That's about it. Day-to-day, they're not allowed in our house," she said.

The dyes, which are typically made from petroleum, are used to give food products colorful appearances. If you're looking out for them on a label, scan for a color and a number.

Dunford said that although the dyes are common in candy and junk foods, they can be used in anything from blueberry bagels to spinach wraps. Instead of avoiding any particular food, she checks labels to find a version without synthetic dyes.

"There are definitely enough alternatives out there that there is no need to buy products for my kids that contain synthetic dyes," she said.

Synthetic dyes are not proven to harm everyone who consumes them, but evidence suggests they can worsen hyperactivity or attention-related behavior in children who are sensitive to them. Dunford said her son is on the ADHD spectrum, and that she would notice a difference in his behavior when he had brightly colored foods.

"My son, like many kids his age on the ADHD spectrum, and I noticed he became horrible when he would have brightly colored foods," Dunford said.

In January 2025, the FDA banned Red Dye 3, a dye that gives foods like candy, frosting, and bacon a cherry red color, because it was linked to cancer in an animal study. It has not been found to cause cancer in humans, but has also been associated with behavioral issues in some children.

In April 2025, the FDA announced that it would be phasing out a number of other synthetic dyes, including Red 40, Green 3, Yellow 5, Yellow 6, Blue 1, and Blue 2.

Phosphate additives

Dunford tries to avoid buying products with phosphate additives such as phosphoric acid, dicalcium phosphate, tricalcium phosphate, disodium phosphate, sodium phosphate, and lecithin.

Studies suggest that phosphate-based additives are present in up to 56% of packaged foods in the US and that they raise blood phosphate levels more than the phosphate that naturally occurs in foods such as meat, seafood, and dairy. Soda, processed meats, and fast food all commonly contain phosphate additives, but they can also be used in everyday staples like yogurt and bread.

Dunford won't buy major culprits like soda at all, but for other products like yogurt, she makes sure to find versions without them.

"Children are getting really highly exposed to these additives and they can really cause a lot of problems with bone health, with kidney health," Dunford said.

The body needs phosphate, which is a mineral, for healthy bones, teeth, cells, and energy production. But too much phosphate in the blood can be harmful, especially for people with chronic kidney disease, whose kidneys are less able to remove excess phosphate.

Calcium and phosphate are both used to build bones, and the kidneys help keep their levels balanced in the bloodstream. When phosphate builds up, it can disrupt this balance and trigger hormonal changes, including higher levels of parathyroid hormone, a hormone that regulates calcium in the blood. Over time, this can cause calcium to be released from bones, weakening them.

Although studies suggest that phosphate additives can temporarily affect the phosphate-calcium balance in healthy people, more research is needed to understand if these ingredients can cause health issues over time. Regardless, Dunford prefers to err on the side of caution.

"You're not going to get it perfect. It's okay, but just take that extra step, look at the label," Dunford said.