Leo XIV Can Take Catholics in Three Directions
A family of seagulls — two adults feeding a chick — had gathered by the papal chimney a couple of minutes before white smoke billowed out to announce the election of a new pope. The Holy Spirit is usually represented by a dove, so what to make of this trinity?
In any case, it's just one small detail in a poignant day. There are already many other portents to sift through.
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Yahoo
2 hours ago
- Yahoo
14 Reasons You Feel So Alone In Your Marriage
Sometimes, marriage feels like you've got a permanent plus-one to everything, an automatic partner-in-crime for life's ups and downs. But what happens when that partnership feels more like a solo venture, and you're left wondering how you became so adrift? Feeling alone in a marriage can be bewildering and isolating, yet it's more common than you might think. Here are 14 reasons you might be feeling the solitude set in, along with a little dose of validation that you're not navigating this path alone. Growing a family can introduce a new kind of loneliness, one that's wrapped in the chaotic beauty of raising children. As the demands of parenting take center stage, your relationship often takes a back seat. You might find yourself missing the freedom you once had to simply enjoy each other's company. The exhaustion from juggling roles can leave you feeling like you're pouring from an empty cup. In the hustle and grind of parenting, it's easy to forget that you're partners beyond being co-parents. The love language you once spoke fluently now feels foreign, buried under a mountain of responsibilities. It's crucial to carve out moments of connection, even if it's just a simple check-in at the end of a long day. By prioritizing your partnership, you can navigate the parenting marathon without losing each other along the way. It's not that you're not talking; it's that you're not talking about anything real. Conversations might hover around dinner plans or who's picking up the dry cleaning, but the genuine, vulnerable discussions about hopes, fears, or disappointments are conspicuously absent. According to Dr. John Gottman, a renowned relationship expert, avoiding difficult conversations can create a chasm that grows wider over time. When you shy away from addressing what's truly bothering you, it can feel like you're living with a stranger. You might be cohabiting a space but not truly inhabiting each other's emotional landscapes. The fear of conflict often underpins this avoidance, so you choose silence over potential discord. This emotional evasion often leaves you both stuck in a loop of superficial exchanges, creating a loneliness that's difficult to shake. It's a hard habit to break, but acknowledging it's a crucial step toward reconnecting. The hustle of daily life can become a vortex that sucks the intimacy out of your relationship. Between work, social commitments, and perhaps parenting, it's no surprise that spending quality time with your partner gets pushed to the outskirts of your priorities. The calendar gets filled, but your emotional tank runs empty. You're left in a whirlwind of doing, rather than being together. As the days turn into weeks, the pattern becomes a new normal, where meaningful engagement becomes a rare occurrence. You might even be in the same room, but your attention is elsewhere, more focused on the next task than the person by your side. The truth is, if you don't actively make time for each other, intimacy will always take a backseat. This lack of shared moments can leave you feeling isolated, a stranger in your own life. In a world where we're perpetually connected, it's ironic how much technology can drive a wedge between you and your spouse. The endless scrolling, the constant ping of notifications, and the lure of digital entertainment can erode the quality time you could be spending together. You might be physically present, but mentally logged into another universe entirely. This digital divide often results in emotional estrangement. When screens take priority, genuine connection falls by the wayside, replaced by the false sense of being "too busy" for each other. The intimacy that once came naturally now requires deliberate effort, and it doesn't take long before you find yourself feeling like you're living parallel lives. To close the gap, it's crucial to set boundaries around tech usage and prioritize moments of real-life interaction. Embracing a tech-free zone can be a small step with a big impact. Physical touch is a cornerstone of romantic relationships, and its absence can spell trouble. When the hugs, kisses, and more intimate moments start to wane, it can feel like you're living with a roommate rather than a lover. A study published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior highlights how important physical intimacy is for overall relationship satisfaction. Without it, you're not just deprived of closeness; you're also missing out on a vital form of emotional connection. Physical disconnect can make you feel undesired and rejected, even if it's not intentional. It's a touchy subject for many, but avoiding the discussion only amplifies the loneliness. Acknowledging and addressing the lack of physical affinity might feel awkward, but it's essential for rekindling the sparks that once were. This dialogue opens the door to understanding each other's needs and finding ways to reconnect. There's a fine line between needing space and shutting down emotionally. When stress or disappointment leads you to withdraw into yourself, it can feel like you've built an emotional wall that keeps your partner out. In some cases, this shutdown happens as a protective measure, a way to avoid dealing with feelings that seem too overwhelming to tackle. But over time, it becomes more like a self-imposed exile. The lack of emotional availability can be misconstrued as indifference by your partner, deepening the divide. It's as if you're both navigating your own emotional journeys without a bridge to bring you back to each other. Breaking this cycle requires vulnerability—a willingness to share what's truly on your mind, even if it's not fully formed or pretty. This openness can pave the way to mutual understanding and reconnection. Having separate interests isn't inherently a problem, but when they pull you in different directions, it can create distance. The hobbies or passions you once shared may have evolved, leaving fewer points of intersection. Research by Dr. Lisa Firestone suggests that couples who grow apart in their interests often experience a reduction in overall intimacy. When your lives are centered around different activities, it can be challenging to find common ground. As your interests diverge, it's easy to start living like two ships passing in the night, more focused on your individual pursuits than on shared experiences. This sense of leading parallel lives can foster a deep sense of loneliness, making you feel like you're missing out on being part of a team. The key isn't to sacrifice your passions but to find new ways to intertwine them, creating a shared narrative that encompasses both your evolving identities. Old arguments that never truly end can linger like ghosts, haunting your relationship. These unresolved conflicts seep into everyday interactions, turning small disagreements into battlegrounds. The weight of these past grievances can make your connection feel more like a burden than a source of comfort. It's as if every conversation is another layer of tension added to an already heavy load. This lingering resentment can lead to an emotional stalemate, where every interaction feels fraught with underlying tension. As a result, communication becomes stilted and guarded, adding to the sense of isolation. The path to reconciliation involves addressing these unresolved issues head-on, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. Only by letting go of the past can you both move forward, lighter and more connected. Expectations can be the silent killers of joy, especially when they're not communicated or aligned. You might have entered marriage with a mental picture of what it should look like, only to realize your partner's vision is a completely different painting. Dr. Terri Orbuch, a researcher who has conducted a decades-long study on marriage, found that unmet expectations are a significant source of marital dissatisfaction. These discrepancies can lead to resentment, where you feel let down because reality doesn't match the fantasy you've crafted. It's not necessarily that your partner is failing; it might just be that your expectations have never been laid bare to be understood or negotiated. When these unspoken hopes clash with the day-to-day reality, it's easy to feel distanced and alone. Bridging this gap starts with honest conversations about what you both truly want. Money issues can cast long shadows over a relationship, creating stress that seeps into every aspect of life together. The tension around finances doesn't just stop at the bank account; it can infiltrate your emotional connection and communication. Disagreements about spending, saving, or financial priorities can make you feel alienated and misunderstood. It's as if you're speaking different dialects of the same language, unable to find common ground. The stress of financial strain often morphs into a silent wedge that pushes you apart. You might find yourselves avoiding the topic altogether, which only deepens the divide. Addressing financial concerns openly and collaboratively can transform a source of stress into an opportunity for teamwork. By tackling this challenge together, you can reinforce your partnership and alleviate the loneliness that financial strain can create. The interfamilial web can be a source of unexpected loneliness within your marriage. Whether it's dealing with in-laws or navigating the complexities of blending families, these dynamics can create a rift. You might feel like your partner prioritizes their family's needs over yours, leaving you feeling sidelined. Or perhaps the pressure to maintain harmony means biting your tongue more often than you'd like. Over time, these family-related tensions can erode the solidarity you once shared, making you feel like you're on the outside looking in. It's a delicate balancing act between honoring family ties and maintaining the primacy of your relationship. Open discussions about boundaries and priorities can help realign expectations and reinforce your partnership. By approaching family dynamics as a united front, you can mitigate the loneliness they often bring. When you feel unsupported, whether emotionally, professionally, or personally, it can feel like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders, alone. Your partner should be your biggest cheerleader, but when that encouragement is absent, it can breed a sense of isolation. You might find yourself questioning whether your needs are valid or if you're simply being too demanding. This lack of support can manifest in subtle ways, like a lack of interest in your aspirations or dismissive attitudes toward your challenges. It chips away at the foundation of your relationship, leaving you feeling invisible. To bridge this gap, it's essential to have candid conversations about your needs and expectations for support. Recognizing and validating each other's struggles can rebuild the sense of companionship that's been missing. In the quest to become a "we," it's all too easy to lose sight of the "me." The fusion of identities can sometimes blur the lines of who you are as individuals, leading to a sense of personal erasure. Over time, this loss of individuality can breed resentment, making you feel trapped in a role rather than a relationship. It's as if you've traded your unique self for the sake of togetherness, and in the process, loneliness sneaks in. Reclaiming your individuality doesn't mean you're rejecting your marriage; rather, it's about nurturing your selfhood within it. Pursuing personal interests and passions can reinvigorate both you and the relationship. It's about finding harmony between individuality and partnership, so you're not just living alongside each other, but also thriving as individuals. When you're both vibrant on your own, the connection between you becomes even stronger. Every relationship has its emotional currency, and when withdrawals exceed deposits, loneliness is often the result. You might feel like your emotional needs are being neglected, whether it's a lack of validation, appreciation, or empathy. This imbalance can leave you feeling more like roommates than romantic partners. It's as if the emotional scaffolding that once supported your relationship has crumbled. To overcome this, it's crucial to reestablish an emotional give-and-take that nourishes both partners. Open dialogue about what you both need to feel emotionally fulfilled can help bridge the gap. It requires vulnerability and a willingness to listen without judgment, creating a safe space for each other's emotional truths. By prioritizing this emotional nourishment, you can transform loneliness into a renewed sense of togetherness.
Yahoo
3 hours ago
- Yahoo
I'm a mom of 5 and thought work would get easier as the kids got older. I was wrong.
I'm a mom of five kids ranging from ages 5 to 17. I thought having teens would be easier than having toddlers for my career. Turns out teens are even more demanding, and I need to give myself grace. As the mother of five kids, four of whom were born in six years, I have spent all of my 17 years of parenting working from home in some capacity. And in those 17 years, I've been successful under the definition of a capitalist viewpoint. The first year I hit a profit with my writing business was the same year I birthed my fourth child. I went viral, was interviewed by Good Morning America, and churned out work at a rate that left many people wondering how I did it all, considering my oldest child was only 6 and my husband worked several jobs. I struggled to balance it all, but I remember thinking that that time in my life, full of babies, toddlers, and preschoolers, would be the hardest part of my life. I just had to make it through, and then I could coast. I was so terribly wrong. Now that most of my kids are tweens and teens, I find myself in the weeds of parenting all over again, but this time I'm somehow even more exhausted, confused, and overwhelmed. Instead of dealing with potty training and tantrums, I'm dealing with teen drivers, volatile emotions, and big life decisions. I feel frustrated and guilty, like I'm doing something wrong for somehow being less productive as the mother of older kids. I think part of it is that when they were small, there was a routine that let me get some work done. There were daily nap times I could count on, movies I could turn on, or playdates I could schedule. But with teens, I am never off the clock. I'm always a text away, and with a teen driver, I feel like I can't not be available 24/7. Also, older kids take up more space, are louder, and have more intense needs than I anticipated. Every day feels like a circus show of juggling, and I'm kind of holding my breath and hoping I'll have enough breathing room to manage any work. While a cartoon and snuggles could suffice with a toddler, teenagers require 50 memes, a thoughtful conversation, and probably Chick-fil-A to connect. I feel a pressure to be emotionally available in a way I didn't when they were younger, and that makes it hard to switch back and forth to work mode when working from home. I don't want to be resentful of being "interrupted," and of course, I want to be there for my kids and hear all the details and be available for their lives. I want to be that person for them, and I'm all too aware how fast and fleeting it all is, and I could lose one of them next year to college. You know the guilt heaped on moms of young kids about how fast it all goes, so you better soak it in? Well, as a mom of teens, that guilt is magnified by about a million because this is exactly the time they were talking about — we're living the slow slippage of our kids out of our lives daily. I want to embrace it, soak it in, and be here for it. But I also have to pay my bills, and I don't know how to do both right now. I'm trying some new things, like getting noise-cancelling headphones, setting more firm boundaries about when I can and can't be interrupted, and trying to shift more of my morning chores to later in the day so I have more work time. The pressures and intensity of this stage feel a lot like the new parent stage all over again, only without the cute baby to cuddle. I still have plenty of sleepless nights, too — watching your child on Life360 is the new baby monitor. Maybe I just need to give myself the same amount of grace (and coffee) as I did back then. Read the original article on Business Insider
Washington Post
3 hours ago
- Washington Post
How Hawaii pushed out native Hawaiians
Sara Kehaulani Goo was 8 years old when she learned a secret. Deep in a swath of her family's ancestral land on the isolated eastern tip of Maui stood a 13th-century temple known as a heiau, perhaps the largest anywhere in Polynesia. Even as a girl, she understood the spiritual weight of this Hawaiian place of worship. At first sight, she was astonished by the 'tidal wave of black' before her eyes. Some of the heiau's walls were 50 feet high. Terraces facing north and southeast rose to a central platform measuring 3¼ acres. The people who built it, starting some seven centuries earlier, had carried each chunk of basalt to its final resting place, rock by rock, hand to hand, in a human chain. They used no mortar or bonding or cement. Visiting it, both as a child and then again as an adult, she felt herself in the presence of something sacred — 'mana' in the Hawaiian language. 'Kuleana: A Story of Family, Land, and Legacy in Old Hawai'i,' Goo's new book, is nominally about the 90-acre family property on which the heiau stands — and the fight to save it from the forces that have expelled Hawaiians from their land since first contact with Europeans. Yet it is the heiau, and her first experience of it, that is the central force of the story. It 'planted the seed for me to become a journalist,' Goo (who was previously a reporter and editor at The Washington Post) writes. 'This is where my curiosity was born.' It also started her on a quest to understand her family's history and to write this very book. The heiau, and its mana, would shape her entire life. The story begins with the Great Mahele, a land redistribution edict carried out by King Kamehameha III in 1848. Its intent was to give chiefs and commoners access to resources during the upheaval wrought upon Hawaii by disease, capitalism and the rise of American influence in the islands. Goo's ancestor, a man named Kahanu with links to area chiefs, was the recipient of 990 acres of land on the eastern end of Maui. Upon his death, Kahanu, who had no heirs, left the land in equal parts to his two brothers and an aunt, Goo's direct forebear. Within 20 years of the Mahele, Kahanu's successors had sold much of the property to sugar planters. The remaining acreage was divided into ever smaller fractions, generation by generation. Today, Goo's extended family possesses 'more than ninety acres' of the original allotment. Goo's close relatives own 10 of those acres. 'Kuleana' is structured around a threat to that land. In 2019, Maui County increased the family's property taxes by almost 600 percent. Though the Goos explored several options — including planting a small farm on the land so that it could be rezoned for agriculture — no solution seemed plausible or permanent. The pressure to sell grew heavy. Yet this storyline makes up but a thin slice of 'Kuleana,' and the book is better for it. Goo's explorations of the problems Hawaii faces raise the stakes. The state already has the highest housing costs in the nation, and on Maui, nonresidents own a significant portion of homes. Meta founder Mark Zuckerberg snapped up 1,400 acres on Kauai, then sued Hawaiians who held claims to some of these lands (he later dropped the suits). Before that, Oracle founder Larry Ellison purchased 98 percent of the 90,500-acre island of Lanai. For native Hawaiians, land displacement is present and ongoing: More than half of all native Hawaiians have left the islands. This might be the essential message in 'Kuleana.' Goo's motherly distress about raising her children in Washington, so far from their familial home, also feels vital. Even among her Hawaiian relatives, she writes, the fact that she grew up on the mainland has marked her for life. 'We were mainlanders who had plane tickets, not Native Hawaiians with residency.' Her prose is light and pithy, styled and structured like that of a newspaper reporter. This usually works in her favor. Yet her occasional reliance on cliché and tendency to use the same words repeatedly — often in a single paragraph, sometimes in a single sentence — slacken what could have been a tauter narrative. Small historical blemishes also appear in the book now and again. Goo writes, for instance, that Hawaiians killed Captain James Cook once they discovered he wasn't a god. This simplifies a more complex historical record. Misgivings aside, for too long most readers have looked to two or three titles to learn about the Hawaiian Islands. To this day, bookstores on the islands display gleaming stacks of James A. Michener's novel 'Hawaii,' 66 years after its publication and woefully out of date. To people with ties to Hawaii, Goo's story will already be familiar. But if just a fraction of the millions of annual visitors read 'Kuleana' and get a more subtle, more accurate understanding of these singular islands, it will be a cause for celebration. A serious book by a Hawaiian journalist, from a major publishing house, is a most welcome arrival. Makana Eyre is the author of 'Sing, Memory.' He was born and raised on the island of Oahu. A Story of Family, Land, and Legacy in Old Hawai'i By Sara Kehaulani Goo Flatiron. 351 pp. $29.99
