Latest news with #selfworth
New York Times
13 hours ago
- Entertainment
- New York Times
‘America's Sweethearts' Is a Compelling Sports Series
Season 2 of the documentary series 'America's Sweethearts: Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders,' on Netflix, is a bit less rah-rah than Season 1 — still full of tears, high kicks and sisterhood but also more attuned to the pain of it all, the sorrow and struggle of cobbling together one's self-worth. One of this season's leads is Jada, a five-year veteran of the team and among its best dancers and most thoughtful leaders. She lays out the season's theme at the beginning: 'Everyone's going to say, 'Well, they're just cheerleaders,'' she says. 'Well, we're really good cheerleaders.' Her grin begins to spread. 'Show us that you appreciate us,' she adds. Are the members of the team appreciated? Not with money, they're not, and part of this season's most invigorating arc is the cheerleaders' quest for better pay. Season 1 brought additional fame and adulation to the team, and it also drew attention to the exploitation of the enterprise. As Kylie, another team veteran, explains: 'The world was kind of telling us, 'Girls, fight for more.' And we're like, 'OK!'' As the women practice the grueling signature routine, we hear the opening strains of the AC/DC song 'Thunderstruck,' over and over. But the true refrain of the season is the fretting about being in one's own head. It's the catchall term for all distress and self-recrimination, the explanation for any lack of confidence or lapse in perfection. Yes, performers can overthink things, especially in prolonged auditions, and rumination and anxiety are enemies to the wide smiles and sexy winks the Dallas cheerleaders' routines require. The job is to make it look easy. But there's an interesting tension. Your head is where the good ideas are, too — ideas like: 'Hey, a lot of people are making a lot of money off my work; why doesn't any of that go to me?' Or: 'Even people who I believe have my best interests at heart can disappoint and hurt me.' Want all of The Times? Subscribe.
Fast Company
16 hours ago
- Health
- Fast Company
You don't need to accomplish things to matter
Not long ago, a client of mine—let's call her Maya—shared something that struck me. 'I had a rare Sunday with nothing urgent on my plate. My kids were with their grandparents. My inbox was quiet. I could have done anything. Instead of feeling relaxed, I panicked. I literally didn't know what to do with myself.' She laughed softly but tears were in her eyes. 'I realized . . . I don't know how to exist without a task list. If I'm not accomplishing something, I feel like I don't matter.' Maya isn't alone. In my coaching work, I've heard this story many times— women who have full, meaningful lives yet feel they're only as good as what they checked off today. In a culture that rewards output and treats busyness like a badge of honor, it's easy to confuse productivity with worth. But what happens when you slow down —or are forced to? Who are you without the to-do list, the perfect calendar, and the high performance? This article invites you to pause and honestly examine where your worth may be tied to how much you get done. It's about recognizing patterns that keep you in constant motion—and beginning to loosen their grip so your value is rooted in something more lasting. Warning signs you might be outsourcing your self-worth to productivity You don't have to be burned out or in crisis to be stuck in this trap. Often, it's invisible—especially when things seem to be going well. Here are some subtle signs: You feel anxious or restless when you're not actively 'getting something done.' You judge your day's success by accomplishments, not feelings. You feel guilty or uncomfortable during downtime. You struggle to enjoy activities unless they're 'productive' (reading must educate, exercise must burn calories). You only feel good about yourself when exceeding expectations—at work or home. Another client, Elena—a physician and mom of three—said, 'I know rationally that I'm a good mom and doctor. But the only time I feel that way is when I'm accomplishing something measurable—publishing, presenting, finishing charts. Otherwise, I feel like I'm failing.' Elena wasn't asking to do less. She wanted to feel enough even when she wasn't at full throttle. That distinction matters. Reclaiming your self-worth doesn't mean abandoning ambition. It means building a foundation where your identity isn't tied to output highs and lows. Why this runs so deep Tying worth to productivity isn't a personal flaw—it's shaped by powerful cultural forces. We live in a society that prizes output, where worth is measured by results, not relationships or inner experience. Women are socialized to be competent, accommodating, and endlessly available—to anticipate needs, keep things running, and never drop the ball. Add motherhood, with its endless work and little feedback, and it's easy to internalize that your value depends on how much you handle without breaking. The pandemic intensified this. With work, school, and home merging, many working moms became the nerve center—managing logistics, meals, meetings, and everyone's emotions. The doing never stopped. And when people praised our resilience and ability to 'keep it together,' we absorbed the message that being useful was what made us worthy. The costs of outsourcing your worth This isn't sustainable. Even if it works temporarily, it erodes well-being. Your sense of self rises and falls with accomplishment. Burnout looms as rest feels like failure. Disconnection creeps in—you struggle to be present with loved ones unless everything is tied up. When things go off script, disappointment turns to shame, as if falling short means you're fundamentally flawed. Most damagingly, this mindset convinces you rest, joy, and self-compassion are rewards to be earned, not essential parts of being human. When worth is always up for reevaluation, peace remains out of reach. What reclaiming your worth looks like This work is slow and layered—not a quick fix or a slogan. It's a recalibration of how you relate to yourself. Start here: 1. Notice the Narratives Pay attention to thoughts that arise when you're not productive: ' I should be doing more,' ' I'm falling behind,' ' I don't deserve to rest yet. ' Notice whose voice this echoes—a parent, boss, or cultural script? Naming these is the first step to disarming them. 2. Redefine Success Create space for a fuller definition of success: being present for bedtime without planning tomorrow, holding a boundary at work, or letting something be 'good enough.' Reflect daily: What felt aligned? When did I feel like myself? Where did I honor my values? 3. Practice Being, Not Just Doing Choose small moments to simply be: sit with coffee without scrolling, walk without exercising, and rest without 'earning' it. Your nervous system may resist at first—that's normal. Over time, you'll build capacity to sit with yourself without judgment. 4. Anchor to Identity, Not Output Ask: Who am I when I'm not performing or producing? This can feel scary but also freeing. You are more than a multitasking manager—you are a person with humor, intuition, creativity, and resilience. Begin rooting your worth in being human, not heroic. One client, a lawyer and mom of two, shared: 'I still work hard, but now I can pause during the day to breathe. I let dishes wait without calling myself lazy. And strangely, I feel more powerful—not less—because my worth isn't riding on every task.' Being enough High-achieving moms are admired for how much they handle—but that admiration can come at a cost. Beneath competence and reliability often lies a quiet desire: to feel whole even when nothing is getting done. You don't need to give up your drive or goals. But you deserve a life where worth isn't constantly measured: a life where rest is allowed, not earned; where joy has space without justification; where being enough isn't something you prove—it's something you simply trust.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Lifestyle
- Yahoo
I live in a van, shower at the gym and shelter in Wetherspoons – and I feel totally free
The stats tell their own story: in the UK, the average household has £58,000 worth of possessions, including 118 pieces of clothing. In the States, the average home has 300,000 items in total. So what happens when you have to dramatically downsize? Charlotte Bradman knows all about that: after a relationship ended and her house was repossessed, she was forced to find an alternative way of living. It was only after getting rid of the clutter in her life – both physical and mental – that she found her way again. Her solution? Moving into a van with only life's essentials. 'Getting rid of everything was really hard initially because you feel like a failure,' says Bradman, 42. 'You've had your house repossessed and society teaches us that we are successful if we own our own home. I had suddenly lost my sense of self and self-worth. 'I'd bought the three-bedroom townhouse in Keighley, West Yorkshire, with an ex-partner in my 20s. After a while he didn't want the responsibility of a mortgage any more and the relationship broke down. He left and I was on my own paying the mortgage. I rented all the rooms out in order to keep the house. 'After eight years, he wanted to sell the property,' says Bradman, who was working as a housing litigation consultant at the time. 'We couldn't sell it as it was in negative equity, so I gave the keys to him, he moved back in, and after two months it got repossessed. 'Once I had come to terms with it [the repossession], I started getting rid of all the things that I had collected over the years: vintage furniture, clothes, books and art. It was the most liberating experience I have ever had.' Then, just over four years ago, fine art graduate Bradman upped sticks and moved to Cornwall, a place she'd holidayed in and loved as a child. She drove down in a grey Citroën Relay van, which she customised herself. It had the basics of just a portaloo and hob – with no shower, oven or fridge. And she took to life on the road with gusto, moving around and working along the Cornish coast. Growing up in Keighley, Bradman says she watched her parents – mum Julie, a medical secretary, and dad Stuart, a builder – work six days a week so they could buy material things. 'My dad very much subscribed to your worth as a human being measured by material things. He wanted to keep up with his peers. He had a Range Rover, a speedboat and a big detached house. But we didn't really own any of it. It was all loans, none of it was real.' Bradman's parents split up when she was 14. But she too succumbed to the idea of material things equalling success, getting herself into debt buying designer clothes and cars. 'Was I happy? No. Because I was working hard to try and keep up with the payments for all these things.' Now everything she owns has its place in her van. Recently, Charlotte has upgraded and treated herself to a white Vauxhall Movano but in her Citroën Relay, she had just a hob to cook on. 'I had a lot of one pot stews then,' says Bradman. 'And I've got this really brilliant contraption called a Bright Spark, it toasts bread really well on a single hob. But I probably wasn't eating as varied a diet as I should have been.' Breakfast would be granola, and meals would be dishes like chickpea curry. In winter she'd sometimes go to a Wetherspoons for a treat. 'They would often have an open fire and I could get a hot chocolate or a refillable coffee. I could charge my phone and my laptop. In my first van I didn't have anywhere to do that.' In the Vauxhall, she has an oven and a small fridge, but still no shower. The van is insulated and thankfully Cornish winters are not as harsh as Yorkshire ones, she says. 'I've expanded my diet and eat much more healthily now. But I've never had a shower in any of my vans, because they take up too much space. And you can get a shower anywhere – leisure centres, gyms, friends. 'I swim in the sea most days. It's so good for you. The sea is full of minerals and magnesium, which your skin absorbs.' Her clothes are all kept in three IKEA baskets under her bed. 'There's one with trousers, jeans, leggings and jumpers; one with knickers, socks, T-shirts and long-sleeved tops; and one with skirts, dresses and what I class as my fancy clothes. Those are the things with sequins that I never get to wear, but I keep them because I have had them years. 'Even now when I am shopping in a charity shop, I never get anything new. I stand there and think: 'Will I still be wearing this in five years' time?' And if I don't think I will, I won't get it.' Bradman's story is captured in her book The Happy Nomad, which has been described as Raynor Winn's The Salt Path on wheels. 'I like that analogy,' smiles Bradman. 'I met Raynor at the Bude Literary Festival. It's a wonderful book.' Bradman is currently working for the company Saunas By The Sea, mainly around Harlyn Bay, near Padstow. When we talk, she is parked at Fistral Beach, outside Newquay, and the birds are singing in the background. 'After meeting all these wonderful people at the sauna and on the beach, I go for a hike on the coast path and nearly every day I'm overwhelmed with where I am in my life, to have access to all this beauty. I have the sea about 100 yards from the van and all the pink sea thrift flowers covering the rocks. Yesterday I went for a swim, the sea was warm, beautiful and clear. I kept thinking, 'Oh my god, this is my life', but it can be anyone's, that's the thing.' Has anyone been rude about her unconventional lifestyle? 'No one ever does it to my face. I'm working and I'm still spending in the local economy, in the independent shops. I'm contributing.' And does she ever get lonely? 'No. When I was younger, I couldn't bear being on my own because that meant confronting a lot of difficult thoughts and feelings that were quite traumatising. But now I've had therapy, and because of the lifestyle I lead, I don't have the same, if any, level of stress at all. I don't have financial stress. I'm really happy on my own.' At night, she parks in public spaces. 'Maybe twice I have felt a little bit uncomfortable. It's always when I have been parked in lay-bys or away from built-up areas. I usually park in a built-up area for safety, so you are never far away from another human being. I really like industrial estates because there are things going on 24 hours a day.' Her van has a full solar panel system which powers her lithium battery. And when she drives, a split charge relay powers up the battery too. 'It's really efficient for my laptop, phone and lights,' says Bradman. 'I don't have a television – even when I lived conventionally, I didn't have one in a visible space.' What about trips to the loo? 'I've got a little compact composting toilet by Boxio. It's brilliant for disposing of your waste in a way that is environmentally friendly. It's just under the bed and has got two compartments. There's a compostable bag for solids, and I use sawdust as it's really hygienic and there are no bad smells. If I'm out and about I make use of public toilets, or supermarkets and cafés. 'I've learnt where I can park next to toilets. It's usually in little villages, more out of the way of touristy areas. In places like Newquay, St Ives and Falmouth, you have to pay for a lot of the facilities, some places it's 50p, and the public toilets in Looe are card only. It's a bit of a bone of contention for me that public toilets aren't free.' Bradman also knows the best places to fill up her water bottles. She reckons she uses up to four litres a day. 'I fill up where I can – as I'm based on the coast, harbours are really good as there are always fresh drinking water taps. And, it's a bit macabre, but graveyards have them too.' Bradman's enthusiasm about her peripatetic lifestyle even stretches to the launderette, which she visits every fortnight with her bedding, towels and clothes. 'The launderette is like a mini meditation retreat. All you can do is sit there and watch your clothes go around! 'I don't think I would ever go back to living in a house. But if you are ill, it can be difficult. Recently, I had an operation and I went to a campsite in Keighley while I recovered. My mum, who lives in Keighley, had to come and empty my portaloo. I was there for a few months and there were wild deer roaming around. Being surrounded by nature helped with my healing.' It's clear she relishes the freedom life in a van brings her. Her evenings are spent swimming in the sea, doing yoga or hiking. Bradman, who is currently not in a relationship, will sometimes park the van in a lay-by and walk into town to meet people or go for a coffee. 'I don't really drink – a plant-based chocolate milkshake is my addiction at the moment.' Bradman's outgoings are very low. She has no council tax or mortgage, but does pay for road tax, insurance, fuel and MOTs. What's the main lesson she has learnt? 'That material things weigh you down. It's a burden... and when you start getting rid of these things, you are not just freeing up space physically, you are freeing up space mentally, as well.' 'I remember being close to breakdowns so many times in my life because I didn't know how I was going to pay the bills,' she says. 'I didn't have a penny to rub together. Now I need to make a fraction of that, not just to survive but to really thrive. 'Anyone can lighten the burden of financial stress just by being happier with less, by recognising that things are not going to make you happy. I realised how little you need.' 'Think about what you really need. Ask: 'Is it useful, will I use it?' My rule of thumb is if you haven't used something or worn something in two years, then get rid. 'Similarly with books – I have two in the van. One that I'm reading, one to come after. Once I've read that one, it goes to a charity shop and I buy the next book. 'When it comes to food, buy what you need. We over-consume. Have a store cupboard of basics. When you have got a small space, and you don't have a lot of storage, you are more aware of the resources that you are using. 'That goes for water, too. I don't have a tap that I can leave running. I only fill the kettle up for one cup of tea. 'You don't need to own a lot of paintings or art to appreciate it. I can go into a gallery, exhibition or even a local craft shop to inspire me. 'Get out, go for a walk and live in the moment. Own the moment, not the thing.' The Happy Nomad by Charlotte Bradman is out in paperback on June 19, £10.99, Yellow Kite Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
The Sun
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
Justin Bieber exposes private texts & admits ‘conflict is part of relationships' as worried fans beg ‘delete this!'
JUSTIN Bieber left fans stunned by sharing a private conversation on Instagram after cutting ties with his assistant and bodyguards. Justin, 30, also shared a raw statement about his struggles with anger, healing, and self-worth - sparking concern online. 5 5 The Sorry singer uploaded two screenshots on social media which showed a tense exchange that appeared to mark the end of a relationship. The other person said: 'I'm not used to someone lashing out at me. It's not that I don't see and feel your anger.' A reply in blue said: 'Ouch. This friendship is officially over. 'I will never accept a man calling my anger lashing out. I enjoyed our short lived relationship. I wasn't kidding when I told u I didn't need u as a friend. 'I have good friends. Who will respect these boundaries.' Another screenshot continued: "I will never suppress my emotions for someone. "Conflict is a part of relationship ... If you don't like my anger you don't like me. "My anger is a response To pain I have been thru. "Asking a traumatized person not to be traumatized is simply mean." Shortly afterwards, Justin wrote a statement out on a purple background, and it was even more personal. He captioned the statement with a hand emoji flipping the bird. The star admitted to feeling broken and exhausted, writing: 'People keep telling me to heal… I know I'm broken. I know I have anger issues… I tried to do the work my whole life to be like people who told me I needed to be fixed like them. 'And it just keeps making me more tired and more angry. 'The harder I try to grow, the more focused on myself I am. ' He added: 'Jesus is the only person who keeps me wanting to make my life about others… Honestly I'm exhausted with thinking about myself lately. Aren't you?' The identity of the person in the text exchange remains unknown but the raw posts quickly went viral, with many fans expressing concern. Comments poured in urging the star to 'delete this' while another said: "Justin I love you, but please take a break off social media, so it'd stop triggering you, it's okay to be angry, but stop giving these people the power to trigger you." Another said: "Being traumatized isn't an excuse to treat people like s**t… like what???" The Sun revealed his team has changed dramatically in recent months as he's cut ties with close associates and even lost his longtime personal assistant. He worked with assistant Mateo Caldas, who was also an estate manager, since 2018 - but Mateo has moved on. The star's rep recently hit back at worrying rumors Justin's health has declined, telling TMZ he's in "one of the best places in his life." They said the past year has been "very transformative for him as he ended several close friendships and business relationships that no longer served him." However, Justin has long been open about his struggles. He's credited his Christian faith and his wife, Hailey Bieber, for helping him through dark times. The couple married in 2018 and have been under public scrutiny ever since. While they've often posted about their love, recent cryptic posts — including a plea for prayers from Hailey's father last year— have fuelled speculation about tension behind the scenes. 5 5
Daily Mail
4 days ago
- Entertainment
- Daily Mail
Still Beautiful by Katie Piper: Don't base your worth on what you look like
Still Beautiful by Katie Piper (DK Red £18.99, 272pp) Given that Katie Piper 's new book is called Still Beautiful you might think it would be full of advice and tips on looking 'good for your age' – a phrase she mentions but doesn't like. But it's the opposite of superficial; it has depth, with Piper insisting: 'How we appear on the outside is the least interesting thing about us.' That's a powerful statement, especially coming from her. Piper was, after all, a model in her early 20s, trying to make a living out of her good looks in the heyday of lads' mags until, aged 24, her life was forcibly turned on its axis after she was the victim of an acid attack. She tells of the years of painful recovery. She considered taking her own life. She dealt with a grieving process over her looks and youth being taken from her, but also had to cope with some repugnant reactions to her scarred face as it healed. More than that, the man who had arranged the attack had raped her only days before. Getting through it all – even turning much of it into positives – she realised 'that founding my worth on what I looked like or what others (particularly men) thought about me was incredibly shaky ground'. She learned to look to the inside to find her worth, her power, her purpose, and it's this message she wants to get across. She draws comparisons between her experience and how women can grapple with the subsidence of youth, their looks changing when aging for women is framed so negatively by (a patriarchal) society. Now in her 40s, she is not worried about getting older; she's thankful to be alive, keen to make the most of life, and she'd like others to feel equally empowered rather than focus on collagen loss. We must reject society's lessening of us, as jawlines slacken and fertility declines. Her premise: youth should not be synonymous with beauty and external beauty is not how we should value ourselves or accept our valuation. In the process she does, briefly, take aim at the beauty industry and media for focusing too much on youth. As a journalist who has spent many years of my career as a beauty editor, I don't blame her; I've always struggled with the term 'beauty industry' – it sounds like a Fifties housewife template for passive perfection. Thankfully, things are shifting, and the sector is becoming more about self-expression and self-care (Piper herself is a spokesperson for L'Oreal Paris) but despite all its modern inclusiveness, the business still finds it hard to extend that to women over 50. Mainly, though, Piper challenges society and women themselves to no longer accept the status quo. It's not all about looks, it's also about life looking – or not looking – the way we (or others) expected it to, and how and why those expectations arise for women in the first place. For those facing other challenges, such as losing a job or a big relationship, the realities of being a mother or not having children, being married or remaining single, this book serves up a generous helping of positive outlook and agency. A blend of advice, throwing down the ageism gauntlet, and a movingly honest biography, this is an easy, life-affirming, and empowering read. The arguments may not exactly be new but they're confidently and comprehensively argued, and the book deserves to kickstart bigger conversations. It's full of wisdom about making life happen for you not to you, that it's what's on the inside that counts, using your voice, valuing yourself, owning your power, your beliefs, your age, and the importance of grounding yourself in all of that because that's the stuff – like good advice – that doesn't age.
