American elders hoard belongings—and feelings—at record rates. Learn the science, the stigma, and Swedish death-cleaning tactics that actually work.

Walk into any big-box store on a Saturday and you’ll see the national pastime: refilling already-full houses.

Public surveys find that U.S. consumers rent 49,000 self-storage facilities—more than Starbucks and McDonald’s combined.

No wonder the Senate Special Committee on Aging recently flagged hoarding as a “quiet public-health crisis” for older adults, estimating 6.2 % prevalence in seniors versus 2 % in younger cohorts.

Why the age skew?

Survivors of the Great Depression, Cold-War rationing, and 1970s inflation internalized a scarcity mantra—waste not, want not.

By 2025, that thrifty reflex collides head-on with Amazon Prime.

Result: floor-to-ceiling Rubbermaid history lessons plus a growing chorus of first-born children begging Mom and Dad to downsize.

Teens with high psychopathic traits are dying young at alarming rates. Here’s what every therapist, school, and policymaker needs to know about screening and saving lives.

A groundbreaking study published in Research on Child and Adolescent Psychopathology followed 332 incarcerated youth over a 10- to 14-year period.

What researchers found was grim: teens with high psychopathic traits (scoring 30+ on the PCL:YV) had an 18.3% mortality rate before age 35, more than double the rate of lower-scoring peers (Maurer et al., 2025).

“Eleven of the sixty participants who scored 30 or above died during the follow-up period... a mortality rate nearly ten times the expected base rate” (Maurer et al., 2025, p. 21).

These weren’t overdoses from untreated depression alone, or violence explained by poverty. The predictive factor wasn’t trauma, conduct disorder, or ADHD. It was psychopathic traits.

You probably think your breakup started with that final screaming match over the dishwasher. Or maybe it was the quiet sigh she gave when you forgot her birthday again.

But chances are, according to new research, the end began years ago—like a slow leak in the hull of a ship no one wanted to patch.

In a striking meta-study drawing from four national datasets and more than 15,000 romantic implosions, researchers Janina Larissa Bühler and Ulrich Orth (2024) uncovered a two-stage pattern of decline in romantic satisfaction that eerily mimics the psychology of dying.

Yes, dying. As in: terminal decline.

It seems relationships, like human bodies, often betray their ending long before the official flatline.

Something is pressing down on families right now.

You can hear it in the sighs between chores, in the snapped “what?” that wasn't meant to sting, in the tense silences over dinner.

When global stress spikes—whether due to economic instability, political upheaval, climate anxiety, or community trauma—it doesn’t stay outside our doors. It moves in with us.

If your family feels more brittle, more fatigued, or more reactive lately, you are not alone.

This is what shared uncertainty feels like in close quarters. And this post is here to remind you that you can still build emotional safety and resilience right in the middle of it all.

A new Stanford University study has uncovered a troubling pattern: popular AI-powered chatbots marketed—or used—as "therapists" are not only unequipped to handle users in crisis, but may actually reinforce dangerous mental states, including delusional thinking and suicidal ideation.

As access to traditional mental health services remains limited, many users—especially teens and young adults—are turning to AI chatbots for emotional support.

Whether it's general-purpose bots like OpenAI's ChatGPT or explicitly therapeutic platforms like 7 Cups or Character.

AI, the appeal is clear: free, always-on conversation that feels human. But according to the Stanford team, the emotional illusion can carry real risk.

Harness your inner Machiavellian. Without losing your soul.

We’ve made personality traits into moral absolutes: empathy = good, detachment = bad. But real life isn’t a Pixar movie.

Sometimes the most functional person in the room is the one who knows how to strategically detach, say no without apologizing, and set goals like a tactical submarine commander.

The research keeps nudging us toward an uncomfortable truth: some traits we’ve labeled “dark” can be adaptive—if used consciously, ethically, and with a well-tuned internal compass.

So the question isn’t just “Are you Machiavellian?” It’s: Can you be occasionally Machiavellian on purpose, for your own good?

Narcissism. The very word triggers eye-rolls, sighs, and a general sense that someone in the room has just started a podcast. But like most overused insults, it masks more than it reveals.

Because not all narcissism is a black hole of self-absorption.

Some of it—specifically narcissistic extraversion—might just be confidence wearing louder shoes.

This post isn’t about defending toxic people.

It’s about pulling apart a trait cluster that our social-media driven culture has flattened into a cartoon.

If we can tell the difference between pathological entitlement and healthy self-regard, we might be able to stop labeling all confidence as a character flaw.

Let’s say life throws a flaming bag of sh*t at your doorstep. As I see it, gentle reader, you have three options:

1. Cry.

2. Meditate and hope for inner peace.

3. Quietly, methodically, open your Notes app and write a three-phase mitigation plan with color-coded contingencies.

If you chose Option 3, congratulations: you might be a strategic bastard.

And you might also be better equipped to handle depression.

What Is Coping Flexibility, Really?

Coping flexibility isn’t about being stoic or zen. It’s about having a diversified psychological portfolio.

It means knowing that soothing yourself with peppermint tea is lovely—but sometimes, what you really need is to build a strategic pivot table for your life.

Some people meditate.

Some people cope by rage-texting their ex.

And some, apparently, quietly Machiavelli their way through depression while the rest of us mainline chamomile tea and CBT workbooks.

That’s not just snark. It’s science.

New research is pointing to a deeply uncomfortable truth for therapists and saints alike: certain personality traits we’ve spent decades labeling as "dark" might actually help people survive psychological distress.

You know, the ones you warn your daughter about on dating apps: Machiavellianism, narcissism, and psychopathy.

Collectively known as the Dark Triad, these traits are the Mean Girls of personality psychology. They manipulate, self-promote, and ghost without blinking.

But like every good anti-hero, they might just have one hidden virtue: resilience.

A new study finds that narcissists are more likely to feel underappreciated and unfairly treated—because they overestimate their own contributions. Let’s explore how entitlement skews their perception of equity.

Everyone wants to feel valued at work.

But some people consistently believe they’re giving more than they’re getting—even when their output doesn’t match the self-praise.

According to a new study in the International Journal of Organizational Analysis, people with pronounced narcissistic traits often feel shortchanged in professional settings—not because they are, but because they overestimate their contributions.

Researchers Abdelbaset Queiri and Hussain Alhejji (2025) surveyed 150 employees across Oman’s health, education, IT, retail, and finance sectors. Their findings point to a key insight:

Narcissists feel cheated because they think they deserve more than everyone else.

Let’s start with the bad news: if you’re struggling with pornography use in a way that feels out of control, chances are... you still will be six months from now.

And a year after that.

At least according to a massive new longitudinal study published in Addictive Behaviors.

The good news? You’re not alone.

And there may be more emotional logic to your behavior than the moral panic machine gives you credit for.

You love someone who can’t seem to love themselves.

They’re tender one moment, distant the next. They say you’re the only one who understands them—and then disappear when things get too real. You’re walking on eggshells, but the shell belongs to them.

You’re likely in a relationship with someone high in vulnerable narcissism—not the brash charmer at the party, but the wounded, anxious soul who hides behind defensiveness, sulks in silence, and lives on a steady diet of fragile self-worth.

You see their pain. You want to help. But in the process, your own needs are starting to vanish.

Let’s talk about how to stay sane—and sovereign—in this confusing relational terrain.