From & To Sathish #7 - Page 68

https://www.yahoo.com/news/articles/netanyahu-set-contentious-speech-united-091126216.html

Delegates walk out as Netanyahu speaks at the United Nations

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20250911-the-shortcut-to-close-bonds-asking-meaningful-questions?utm_medium=email&utm_source=ten_tabs&utm_campaign=FIREFOX-EDITORIAL-TENTABS-2025_09_26&position=5&category=fascinating_stories&scheduled_corpus_item_id=a07957a6-bb8e-49c1-8e38-de72cf829f7e&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.bbc.com%2Ffuture%2Farticle%2F20250911-the-shortcut-to-close-bonds-asking-meaningful-questions

The shortcut to close bonds? Asking meaningful questions

https://time.com/7319993/how-to-handle-rude-neighbor/?utm_medium=email&utm_source=ten_tabs&utm_campaign=FIREFOX-EDITORIAL-TENTABS-2025_09_26&position=8&category=fascinating_stories&scheduled_corpus_item_id=3602172b-f1f5-4026-965d-86ebb222021f&url=https%3A%2F%2Ftime.com%2F7319993%2Fhow-to-handle-rude-neighbor%2F

7 Ways to Handle Your Rude Neighbor

Home is where the heart is, sure. It might also be where the volume-cranking, heavy-footed, parking spot-stealing neighbors are, seemingly just waiting to annoy you.

But even the most inconsiderate neighbors deserve empathy. Though it might be hard to remember in the heat of the moment, the people who live around you want to enjoy their space as much as you do yours. “So often, when our emotions get the best of us, we forget the humanity of it all,” says Lindsey Rae Ackerman, a marriage and family therapist and vice president of clinical services at Clear Behavioral Health in Los Angeles. That’s why she suggests approaching annoying neighbors with short, simple requests, and operating under the assumption that they didn't know they were bothering you. “It’s amazing how far that goes,” she says.

We asked experts exactly what to say when your neighbors are ruining your peace.

“Hey, I just wanted to check in. The music last night went past midnight, and I was feeling it this morning.”

If you were up all night counting the beats in your neighbor’s music instead of tallying sheep, approach him or her when you’re well-rested, so you’re less likely to snap. Ackerman suggests phrasing your request in a collaborative way: “Do you think we could find a quiet window after 10 p.m. on weeknights so we can both get enough sleep?”

“It’s rooted in problem-solving,” she says. “It’s not, ‘You did this wrong,’ or, ‘You have to do this better.’” Instead, try: “I’m struggling because of something that’s happening in your space, so I'm coming to you to collaborate on solutions.” That tends to be much more effective than personal attacks or barking orders at someone—like yelling at them to turn it down at the same volume of the songs you heard all night.

“You probably don't know this, but your dog barks for hours at a time, and I work from home. I’m curious if there are any alternatives you'd be open to considering for his care during the day?”

This is a tough one, Ackerman says, because doggie daycare is expensive—and it’s possible your neighbor’s pet is dealing with anxiety or just started a new training program. At the same time, “the noise situation is very, very difficult,” especially when you’re trying to focus or take an important call from home.

When you approach your neighbor, do so in a friendly, compassionate way; it doesn’t hurt to mention how cute Scout is before segueing into your complaint. Kindly explain how the constant barking is affecting your day, and ask if they’re open to brainstorming solutions, like arranging out-of-the-house daycare a couple times a week.

“Preface it with, ‘Look, I get it. I understand this isn’t easy,’” Ackerman says. “‘I know I'm coming to you with a problem that's not necessarily easy to solve.’” Then, follow through with patience as you work together to improve the situation, rather than expecting it to resolve overnight.

“Would you mind smoking in another direction? I’d really appreciate it.”

You have the right to breathe fresh, clean air—but depending on where you live, your neighbor might also be entitled to light up on their balcony or in their backyard. Give them the benefit of the doubt by acknowledging that they probably don't realize how their habit is affecting you, and then pointing out that the smoke is drifting directly into your living room and sticking to your furniture, suggests Jeff Gardere, a professor of psychology at Touro University in New York.

You could also share if you have a condition like asthma or are otherwise sensitive to smoke; vulnerability is often a strength in conflict resolution. No matter the exact words you use, “I’d deliver the request with a smile,” Gardere says, “just to show that I’m friendly and don't mean to spoil their fun.”

“Hey, I can hear footsteps in the evenings—our building’s like that. Would you be open to rugs or maybe just keeping it lighter after 9?”

You might be convinced you live below Bigfoot—but perhaps that's just the way sound travels in your building. Small changes like rugs are surprisingly effective, Ackerman says, and making a specific request means your neighbor doesn’t have to do any guesswork.

It’s also a good idea to make it clear you don’t think they’re at fault: “Our floors are so thin. I’m sure you could be as quiet as a mouse, and I’d still hear it.”

“That keeps it from being too personal,” she says. “You’re evening the playing field—it’s very collaborative in nature and preserves their personal dignity, since you’re not shaming them for anything.”

“I had a little surprise on my shoe as I was walking out to my car yesterday.”

Sure, it’s a generous way to describe the pile of dog poop smeared all over your Nikes. But this approach manages to frame the situation in a neutral way, without assuming your neighbor was deliberately trying to disturb you, says Larry Schooler, a professor of conflict resolution at the University of Texas at Austin.

He suggests adding: “I know it's not easy to keep Baxter off other people's yards. Is there something we can do to prevent another accident in the future?” Maybe, for example, you could leave some poop bags on your front porch; you might argue that you shouldn't have to, but the extra effort may be worth it.

“I’ve noticed sometimes cars are blocking my driveway/shared spot, and it makes it hard for us to get in and out. Would it be possible to make sure that space stays clear?”

If your neighbor is driving you up the wall by blocking your driveway or taking your assigned parking spot, catch them at a neutral time—when they’re not rushing out the door to get to work, for example. Explain exactly what’s happening and then politely ask them to stop doing it, which is more effective than issuing a command, says Pamela Eyring, president of the Protocol School of Washington, which provides etiquette training programs.

She suggests adding: “If you ever need extra space in a pinch, let me know. I’m happy to help if I can.” Showing that you’re flexible helps turn the situation into a partnership, Eyring says, while nurturing a neighborly bond.

“This is awkward, but your windows face into my living room. Would you consider curtains or blinds so we both have some extra privacy?”

You’re reading a book or watching the news, and—oh, is that your neighbor in the nude? If you’re privy to a daily show you’d rather not see, it’s reasonable to bring it up, Gardere says.

Lighten the mood by telling your neighbor that their windows are giving you a clear view of their private space and moments—not that you’re looking. (Said with a laugh.) Gardere suggests adding: “Believe me, if my windows gave that same view, I'd be upset if you didn't tell me.” Then suggest installing curtains (or remembering to utilize them if they’re already there).

And, of course, it doesn’t hurt to add: “I’m just respecting your privacy, and I don’t mean to embarrass you in any way.”

by Angela Haupt

Haupt is a health and wellness editor at TIME

https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20250926-how-to-futureproof-your-knees

How to future-proof your knees

https://psyche.co/ideas/does-it-still-make-sense-to-call-addiction-a-brain-disease?utm_source=Psyche+Magazine&utm_campaign=5676ce6391-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2025_09_26&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_76a303a90a-966bb56d1c-838120577

Does it still make sense to call addiction a ‘brain disease’?

by Chrysanthi Blithikioti and Ioana Alina Cristea, psychologists

The popular brain-disease model was meant to reduce stigma and explain addiction. It’s time to check whether it’s delivered

‘I am Isabel, and I am an alcoholic,’ the woman said, introducing herself at the group therapy session. ‘I haven’t had a drink for 22 years now.’ One of us, Chrysanthi, was attending the session as a clinical trainee. With genuine curiosity, she asked: ‘What makes you an alcoholic if you haven’t had a drink for almost a quarter of a century?’ Isabel looked at her, slightly perplexed, and said: ‘It is a disease. I have it in my brain.’

For Isabel (whose name has been changed here), understanding her addiction as a brain disease was liberating. Her experience illustrates how the brain-disease model of addiction, first articulated in 1997 by the American psychologist Alan Leshner, has likely helped some people who are struggling with addiction to experience less guilt and self-blame. The model gave scientific legitimacy to an older concept, popularised by Alcoholics Anonymous, which had framed addiction as a chronic disease that required spiritual and communal support, rather than punishment and shame. Stripping away the spiritual and moral elements of that concept, the brain-disease model aimed to eliminate the stigma surrounding addiction once and for all: science would eventually prove that addiction is a matter of brain dysfunction, not related to character flaws.

Indeed, reducing stigma was one explicit goal of the brain-disease model of addiction. At the same time, it heralded a novel way of explaining addiction, as a chronic and relapsing condition caused by alterations in the structure and function of the brain. It emerged from a broader cultural shift that started in the 1960s and culminated in the 1990s, with the advent of neuroimaging techniques, and that increasingly prioritised neuroscience in understanding mental disorders. The brain-disease model shaped research priorities worldwide. Deciphering the biological causes of addiction was expected to lead to more effective treatments, including precise interventions targeting the specific neurobiological or neurochemical processes involved.

Nearly three decades later, it’s important to evaluate how well the model has delivered on its promises. Is the brain-disease model still the best way to think about addiction? Do the outcomes produced by the model justify educating entire generations of patients, families and clinicians to view addiction primarily as a problem of individual brain pathology?

The short answer is that the brain-disease model has not delivered. After countless studies finding weak neurobiological differences between people with substance use disorders and those without them, no reliable biomarkers for diagnosis, prognosis or personalised treatment have been identified. The most effective treatments for addiction are either psychosocial – including peer support groups and therapy – or were developed well before the emergence of the brain-disease model. For instance, methadone was first approved by the US Food and Drug Administration for opioid use disorder in the 1970s, and naltrexone was approved in the 1980s. Buprenorphine was approved in the early 2000s, just as the brain-disease model was gaining traction and without a direct relationship to it.

While personal accounts like Isabel’s are not uncommon among people with addiction, the impact of the brain-disease model on stigma is more complex than is often assumed. Recent research indicates that acceptance of this model does not substantially reduce stigma in the general population, nor does it lessen support for punitive responses to addiction. The idea that someone with addiction has a brain disease might even reinforce stigma in some cases, contributing to pessimism about one’s chances of recovery and a lower sense of personal agency. Medicalising a condition does not automatically destigmatise it; in fact, disease labels themselves can be highly stigmatising, as seen in conditions like HIV/AIDS.

There were also fundamental conceptual problems with framing addiction as a brain disease in the first place. The brain-disease model’s dual function as both an etiological theory and a tool to reduce stigma has compounded two distinct questions: whether addiction is a brain disease, and whether labelling it as such reduces stigma. This has led to conceptual confusion in that questioning the validity of the model is often conflated with endorsing a moralistic view on addiction or perpetuating stigma. However, a scientific theory must be evaluated on its own merits. That is, on whether it provides a necessary and sufficient explanation of the phenomenon, and whether it generates predictions that can be empirically tested.

Addiction was often compared to conditions like Alzheimer’s disease and stroke

Evaluating the brain-disease model’s scientific standing reveals a deeper source of confusion: it is not entirely clear what it means to say that addiction is a brain disease. Does it simply mean that, since addiction is a mental disorder, and all mental activity resides in the brain, then addiction must also be a ‘brain disease’? Or does it mean that addiction is akin to conditions that are universally recognised as brain diseases, such as brain cancer or Parkinson’s disease?

Leshner’s early formulation of the brain-disease model closely aligns with the latter view. In the early 2000s, addiction was often compared to conditions like Alzheimer’s disease and stroke. It was thought to result from a genetic vulnerability to the effects of drugs, combined with drug-induced changes in brain regions involved in reward, impulse control and negative emotions. These long-lasting brain changes were viewed as the primary drivers of relapse and became key targets in the search for new medications.

The core elements of the brain-disease model of addiction are effectively captured in the ‘hijacked brain’ metaphor. Popular in both scientific and mainstream discourse, this metaphor suggests that chronic drug use ‘hijacks’ the brain’s motivational system, making further drug use ultimately irresistible, despite its negative consequences.

But even these fundamental elements of the brain-disease model have been challenged. The extent of the loss of control in addiction has been questioned, as symptoms are highly responsive to psychosocial interventions. For instance, contingency management, which uses positive reinforcement to encourage abstinence, is highly effective across a range of substance use disorders and remains a first-line treatment for disorders with no approved medications, such as stimulant use disorders. Unlike paradigmatic brain diseases like brain cancer, addiction can be modified by one’s desire to get better. And while substance use disorders can indeed be chronic and difficult to treat, there is also evidence that many people not only recover, but do so without experiencing relapse. These findings challenge the view of addiction as inherently chronic and relapsing.

What’s more, brain changes associated with addiction have proven to be neither reliable nor specific enough to be clinically meaningful. At present, there is no neural signature that would allow clinicians to distinguish the brain of a person with addiction from that of a person without addiction. Some proponents of the brain-disease model have argued that, given enough time and resources, neuroscience will eventually lead to mechanistic insights and more effective treatments. Yet, after decades of intensive research, such optimism seems unrealistic.

With the core elements of the brain-disease model increasingly difficult to defend on empirical grounds, its proponents often take up the broader view that addiction must be a brain disease because it involves the brain. No scientist seriously disputes that the brain is involved in addiction (or in any mental disorder), so this argument is logically trivial. Recognising that all mental activity involves brain activity, without identifying specific, consistent and targetable brain dysfunctions, does not advance the understanding or treatment of addiction. This broad view also implies that any process that gives rise to symptoms through neurobiological mechanisms must qualify as a brain disease. However, negative life events such as separation or loss can also trigger or worsen depressive symptoms, most likely through a cascade of neurobiological changes, and no one would consider these events brain diseases.

At its core, the brain-disease model was meant to explain addiction in terms of objective brain data, sparing us the trouble of trying to sort the messy, subjective aspects of human experience. It has fallen short likely because it overlooked a fundamental reality: you cannot take the ‘mental’ out of mental disorders. Any brain changes that are observed in mental disorders, including substance use disorders, derive their dysfunctional status not from a comparison with normal brain function, but from the mental dysfunction that they supposedly produce.

Some researchers have suggested that brain changes associated with addiction might not even indicate an underlying brain pathology. For instance, the neuroscientist Marc Lewis has proposed that these brain changes might instead reflect the neurobiological imprint of normal learning processes going awry at the behavioural level. These learning patterns may become entrenched not because of brain damage, but because the individual lacks access to alternative sources of reward – such as meaningful relationships, educational opportunities or stable employment. This is just one of a broader set of complementary explanations that do not solely rely on inherent or irreversible brain abnormalities to account for addiction.

We already know a great deal about what is likely to help and have an impact on people’s lives

Persistence in framing addiction as primarily an individual brain problem obfuscates the broader societal factors at play, including those known to be major drivers of addiction, such as poverty, systemic racism and social inequality. Take, for example, the opioid use disorder epidemic in the US: the major forces that drove this crisis were largely social rather than biological, and systemic rather than individual, including aggressive pharmaceutical marketing for prescription opioids, as well as deindustrialisation and poverty. This suggests that effective responses to addiction require addressing the structural conditions that produce and sustain vulnerability, rather than chasing a yet-to-be-identified brain pathology.

In the quest for scientific breakthroughs in treating addiction, we should not forget that we already know a great deal about what is likely to help and have an impact on people’s lives. Substantial evidence supports measures like free and unconditional access to medical and psychological treatment, access to stable housing, and enhanced community support to combat loneliness. Yet these measures remain insufficiently implemented.

In the months after they met, Chrysanthi got to know Isabel better, coming to understand that the brain-disease model had offered her a useful narrative at a time when she most needed it – when Isabel was struggling with feelings of guilt, self-hatred, and alienation from herself and from others. But it is possible to help people alleviate these feelings without suggesting that addiction is an irreversible part of who they are.

As Isabel returned to the group, it became clear to both of them that what sustained her recovery was not the particular framework she used to understand her experience, but finding meaning again and feeling seen, heard and understood by others. This is what psychiatry risks losing sight of in its relentless pursuit of pinpointing the exact brain pathology: interventions that make people feel and get better do not always need to resort to biology.

by Chrysanthi Blithikioti and Ioana Alina Cristea, psychologists

Chrysanthi Blithikioti is a postdoctoral researcher at the Department of General Psychology at the University of Padova in Italy, specialising in psychology and neuroscience. Her work focuses on evaluating psychosocial interventions in substance use and psychotic disorders, aiming to improve mental health outcomes through evidence-based approaches.

Ioana Alina Cristea is an associate professor of clinical psychology at the Department of General Psychology at the University of Padova in Italy. Her work applies meta-research – methods investigating how research is planned, conducted and reported – to clinically important questions, such as how to develop, improve or more robustly evaluate mental health treatments.

https://youtu.be/0xfFFIVC9G8?si=NMCG84C6qDL71PI6

Time escapes then we're replaced

By the waves that crash behind us and the memories that bind us

To the past, hey, not so fast

Put a comma by the trauma, add another, I don't wanna

Shouldn't I give up? Shouldn't I try?

Justify my own-made mess, blame my life on loneliness

Shouldn't I give up? Shouldn't I try?

No, I don't wanna think these thoughts tonight

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How weight-loss injections are turning obesity into a wealth issue

https://www.sciencefocus.com/wellbeing/spending-time-alone-psychology?utm_medium=email&utm_source=ten_tabs&utm_campaign=FIREFOX-EDITORIAL-TENTABS-2025_09_29&position=10&category=fascinating_stories&scheduled_corpus_item_id=5d72c17a-b524-41da-8fda-4b1dcdc90860&url=https:%2F%2Fwww.sciencefocus.com%2Fwellbeing%2Fspending-time-alone-psychology

This overlooked habit might be your best stress relief tool

Psychologists want us to carve out more alone time, to give our brains a chance to relax and recharge

Human beings are social animals. We evolved in groups and conquered the world in great big family units that we call civilisations. At a fundamental level, we need the company of other people.

So why is it that, every once in a while, I wish I had the planet to myself?

I like to think of myself as a humanist, a pluralist, a generally nice chap. But sometimes – and it’s not that infrequent to tell you the truth – I’d like the seething mass of humanity around me to just, sort of, be gone.

Of course, there are 8 billion of us, so I’m not – ahem – alone in this. The desire to be by yourself can be every bit as strong as our instinct to seek out friends and family.

Researchers even have a name for it: aloneliness. The mirror image of loneliness, it describes the negative symptoms and emotions that arise when you don’t get any real time to yourself.

Introverts like me understand it better than most, but we’re not the only ones.

The benefits of spending time alone

Parents staring down the barrel of a six-week school holiday get prickly at that time of year. People who live in busy flatshares or work in people-infested environments like schools and hospitals know the feeling, too.

And funnily enough, the idea of solitude is of interest to a lot of people. Dr Thuy-Vy Nguyen is one of them. A psychology professor at Durham University, her research shows that having some alone time is important because it puts us in a kind of post-stress recovery mode.

“One thing that we consistently see in our research is that alone time is very good for emotion regulation,” she says.

“We did a study where we induced stress at the beginning [of the experiment]. Then we brought people to a room by themselves and in just a brief period of 15 to 30 minutes, you see the calming down of all these emotions and stress.”

Interestingly, this dimmer switch on our emotions didn’t work when participants were in the room with another person. Maybe it’s because solitude is a time for rest and renewal.

Anger, anxiety and overexcitement all come with a certain amount of cognitive load, but it all seems to melt away when we get a moment to ourselves.

Nguyen even finds there’s a physical effect. “We look at cortisol as an indicator of stress, and that goes down in solitude,” she says.

A sense of calm is not the only benefit. Research during the COVID-19 lockdowns found that time spent by yourself can increase your creativity. Other work has shown that alone time can improve a person’s self-compassion and resilience.

Loneliness and solitude are not the same

All of it might sound surprising to those of us who’ve heard that loneliness is an epidemic – and a dangerous one, too. It’s been linked with poor mental health and even an increased risk of cardiovascular disease and early death.

But there’s a big difference between solitude and isolation. Loneliness is something you don’t always have a choice about. Solitude is something you can seek out and even optimise.

The first way to do that is to introduce some structure to your alone time, Nguyen says. “Sometimes if it’s empty time, that’s when people start finding it challenging.” Give yourself something to do.

In one of her experiments, Nguyen asked people to sort through hundreds of pencils, which they found preferable to sitting there doing nothing. Older research even found that people would rather administer mild electric shocks to themselves than just sit there.

Nguyen makes miniature models in her free time, which feels like a healthier option. As does reading, gardening, jigsaw puzzles or sketching.

“Start with an activity that keeps your hands engaged,” she says – but don’t automatically reach for your phone.

Nguyen is investigating whether distracting devices could interfere with the cognitive processes that happen during solitude.

“When we are alone, we have the opportunity to reflect and think about our days,” she says. “The way that phones are designed kind of captures your attention and you start multitasking instead.”

Another tip is to get out of the house, especially if it’s a busy one.

“If you’re constantly in a high-stress environment, when you’re alone, you might not be able to detach from it,” Nguyen says. “That’s why a lot of parents feel they have to remove themselves from the house. There’s a difference between alone time and personal time.”

Speaking as a lonely parent limbering up for the hectic summer holidays ahead, I can tell you that’s gospel.

An 8 years old son asks his dad:

"Whats the difference between 'Potential ' and 'reality?'

Dad turns to wife: "Would you sleep with Bill gates for $1 million?"

Wife: "Of course, I will never waste that opportunity."

Dad turns to daughter: "Would you sleep with Brat Pitt for $1 million?"

Daughter: Yes! He is my fantasy.

Dad turns to elder son: Will you sleep with Tom Cruise for $1 million?"

Eldest son: "Why not? Imagine what I would do with that money."

Dad then turns to his youngest son: "You see son, 'Potentially ' we are living with 3 millionaires BUT in 'reality ' we are living with two prostitutes and one Gay.

🤔😎