• Kelly Okrepkie, 47, lives in Monroe, Connecticut and loves Christmas.
• She started decorating Christmas trees in her house in 2011, with the goal to have one in each room.
• She now has 13 Christmas trees that she decorates every year.

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

I love Christmas.

When I was little my mom worked at a department store and I would always walk by their Christmas trees and think, "I want this when I grow up."

I started with my first tree when I got married in 2011. Then I had an idea: why don't I have one tree in each room? And then I started looking at the corners of each room and it slowly started to expand.

Now I have 13 Christmas trees that I put up every year.

Each tree has a meaning

I enjoy decorating trees that represent a certain meaning. I have a gold tree and a silver tree that remind me of the song "Silver and Gold" from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. That song takes me back into my childhood.

I have a tree for my dad. I decorated it with cardinals and I actually found ribbon with music notes on it. He loved music. He grew up on a farm so I used burlap and natural wood, too. I also have a tree for my mother-in-law. She always wore red, so I used lush red roses with big blooms — it's very vibrant. There's an angel at the top to represent her.

I feel so excited when I decorate trees for my loved ones who have passed. It's like I get to celebrate Christmas with them.

I put a little glass angel in every one of my trees as a blessing for the new year. My nephew bought them for me years ago at his school fair.

I like to decorate trees for my husband, Joe. My "Emerald City" tree is for his favorite childhood movie, The Wizard of Oz. For that, I made a hot air balloon and I put ruby slippers under the tree. This year I'm making him a Pontiac-inspired tree. He loves cars.

I plan the trees a year in advance

I start planning my trees a year ahead of time. I begin getting ideas and slowly collect ornaments throughout the year so that when the time comes, I already have everything and I'm ready to start.

I have bins and bins and bins of ornaments in the basement, all categorized. It takes me days to bring everything upstairs. I start making props in July. I made an ornament wall out of styrofoam that I glued to the wall. I hot glued every single ornament. It took me 12 to 14 hours.

When I create, I can't have any interruptions. I get filled with adrenaline and excitement. I just put on Christmas music, put my phone on vibrate and get into the zone.

Each tree takes me about three to five hours to decorate, depending on the size. I always try to update my looks. I try to make them better and invest more into them. I learn a lot from designers on Instagram. I've learned how to work with ribbons and picks. Here's a great tip: if you want a different look for your tree, just buy picks and insert them all around. It's a cost-efficient way to change things up.

I spend between $600 to $1,500 per tree

Each tree, with its decorations, cost me probably between $600 and $1500, depending on the height and width. This year, I took a trip to the Christmas Palace in Florida and I got some giant candy canes and bears and penguins and ornaments and globes.

But you don't need to spend that much to have a beautiful tree. You can do things like add a lot of lights, add picks and cover them with a lot of ornaments to fill it out. Instead of throwing empty boxes out, recycle them under your tree. Wrap them up like big presents. I do this so my cats don't climb the trees.

I would love to design meaningful trees for other people. I'd help them pick colors and items that remind them of their loved ones. My dream is to create a Santa's wonderland where families could come visit and take photos and create traditions of their own.

When my trees are up from November until January, they're the first thing I see in the morning and the last thing I see before I go to bed. I don't know when this obsession is going to stop but it just makes me so happy.

• Armani Latimer, 26, is a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader in her fifth season.
• During the 2024 "My Cause My Boots" game, she performed without a wig.
• She hopes her performance inspires people to take a stand and start impactful conversations.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader Armani Latimer. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm in my fifth season as a Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader, and the 2024 "My Cause My Boots" campaign game was the first time I performed without a wig.

Each year, Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders choose a different cause to highlight for the campaign. During that game, members can customize their boots to highlight their cause.

Some of my teammates chose to raise awareness for things like mental health and human trafficking. We each pick a cause that's near and dear to us personally or has impacted someone we're close to. This year, I chose alopecia awareness as the cause I wanted to highlight.

In college, my alopecia got worse

I was diagnosed with alopecia when I was 12 years old. It didn't affect me that much when I was younger, partially because I didn't fully understand what having alopecia even meant, but I also didn't have many bald spots. Even when I started seeing more bald spots, I still had enough hair to cover them, so it wasn't really an issue.

It wasn't until I began college in 2016 at the University of Southern Carolina that the spots started to get bigger, and my hair took longer to grow back. My best friends I grew up with, and my family knew about my condition, but the friends I made in college didn't know until years later.

When you're starting college, you're just trying to make friends. It's hard to say right off the bat, "Hey, I'm not feeling like going out and doing my hair today because I found a bald spot on my head this morning." It was kind of hard to navigate my alopecia getting worse by myself, but I had to just push forward. My alopecia worsened during college, and that's also when I decided to opt for protective hairstyles in the form of wigs and sew-ins for the first time.

Shortly after graduating from college in 2020, I auditioned for the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders and decided I wanted to try wearing my natural hair. I removed all of the extension from my sew-in and went into 2020 training camp with my natural curls.

I loved wearing my natural hair out, but the demands of having your hair game-day ready every single day and trying to make the team can create a lot of stress. Stress can increase the rate at which your hair falls out with alopecia. The combination of that stress and doing my hair every day, whether it was the tension of using a brush or styling my hair with curlers, sped up the process of losing my hair.

When training camp ended and I officially joined the team, I decided to go back to wearing a wig because of the rate at which my hair was falling out. During my second season on the team in 2021, I lost my hair completely, and I've been bald ever since.

This year, I wanted to make a bold alopecia awareness move

This is my third year highlighting alopecia awareness for the "My Cause My Boots" campaign. I've revealed more and more about my alopecia journey with each year. One year, I filmed a video of myself getting ready and posted it on my Instagram. But this year, I wanted to take things a step further. At the beginning of the season, I decided to go without my wig for the game this year. Stepping out and doing something bold was a decision that felt placed on my heart.

I woke up the morning of December 9 feeling very excited, but the nerves started to kick in as we got closer to game time. When you know you're about to make a big impact on people, there's extra weight on you to do the moment justice. Most of the nerves came from knowing this would be a conversation for so many people and so many eyes would be on me.

I was both excited and nervous on game day

My teammates were extremely helpful in calming my nerves, and reassuring me they were completely behind me. My parents and close friends were also in attendance for the game. I remember hearing a few gasps when we started to walk on the field for the performance. I looked out to see a ton of phones and cameras everywhere. In my head, I was like, "Whoa, this is a lot of attention." I almost forgot one of the moves for half a second because I was too distracted. But once I settled into the dance, I had a great time and even shed a few tears.

My dad also has alopecia, and I've looked up to him my whole life as someone who has it and still is happy with life. Jada Pinkett Smith has also been an important representation of alopecia for me. It's comforting to see someone who looks like me rocking her alopecia without any fear of what someone might say.

I hope that my performance serves as a representation to other little girls struggling with alopecia that you can still go out and reach for your goals. I also hope my performance serves as a reminder that regardless of your platform, you can take a stand, make a difference, and start a conversation.

• Aditya Challapally teaches a Stanford Online course on generative AI for tech-adjacent professionals.
• Challapally explained how individuals can skill up technically or become an AI domain expert.
• He also said using tools like ChatGPT or Claude can help people understand AI better.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Aditya Challapally, a 30-year-old Microsoft employee who teaches a course for Stanford Online about generative AI. This story has been edited for length and clarity.

I started working in AI about a decade ago. I started as a data science intern at Uber, then did AI consulting at McKinsey, and later joined Microsoft, where I now work on Copilot.

I started guest teaching at Stanford four years ago and recently co-created a course called Mastering Generative AI for Product Innovation, which launched on Stanford Online in August 2024. It's an online, self-paced course that runs throughout the year. All of the research comes from talking to 300-plus users and 50-plus executives.

A lot of the people who take the class are tech adjacent, such as customer support representatives for a technical product, or product managers for a software or hardware product. They'll often be working on somewhat of a technical product and the course helps them understand gen AI a little bit more.

We teach three modules in this course. The first module explains what Gen AI is and where the biggest opportunities are. In the second module, we talk about what great Gen AI products look like.

The third module talks about how great Gen AI products are built and what individuals can do to set themselves up to be more influential, relevant, and useful when building Gen AI products.

These are the two main pathways you can take to do so.

Track 1: Skill up technically

When I go out and talk to Fortune 500 leaders, they say that their most burning need is for professionals who bridge both worlds — those who understand the business requirements but also understand the technical requirements.

This doesn't necessarily mean that you have to learn how to code, but you at least need to have enough technical literacy that you can translate product visions into technical requirements.

The beginner version is just getting really good at prompt engineering. This sounds like it would be quite basic, but understanding the exact limitations of prompts and all of the different tools across text, audio, and image makes you already very valuable in a business setting because you can help generate ideas even before they get to the technical team.

At an intermediate stage you also should start to understand a little bit about how gen AI systems work in systems design, like how gen AI models can be called within your data boundary.

Companies have data boundaries for which they have an agreement with their customers that their data can't go beyond. So if you're a bank, you may have an agreement with your customers that only the bank will use their information. If you send that in some sort of chat to OpenAI, that would be breaking the company data boundary. So something as simple as knowing that is already really helpful.

In the advanced stage of this track, there are two options.

Some people who don't work in big companies go deeper into understanding coding a little more. People who work in Big Tech companies usually dive deeper into system architecture. So they'll understand things like data boundaries and data flow diagrams in a lot more detail.

Track 2: Become an AI expert for your industry

The domain expertise track is where business people automatically lean toward and have an advantage. This is not necessarily knowing more about the industry, but knowing how gen AI can apply to the domain in more detail.

For example, in finance, you have to know things like what data you can use to train a specific model. You also have to know things like what types of privacy and security regulations you have to go through to get an app approved or release a gen AI-related app.

This skillset is so valuable that companies pay large amounts to consultants that have this specialized expertise. I know this guy who used to work as an operations manager at a bank and he figured out where gen AI was the most valuable. Now, companies will just call him to figure out where to launch their gen AI product.

Use the tools and learn their limitations to improve your prompts

The best thing I see people do is try to automate a lot of their lives with gen AI. They use ChatGPT or Claude for everything and that helps them understand the limitations of AI really well and how to prompt it.

When beginners start to use gen AI, they're not used to what I call the abundance of intelligence. They'll say "Can you give me a response to this text message?"

Experts who use gen AI a lot will say something like, "Can you give me 20 responses to this text message?" And then they'll go and use their taste to pick one.

Outside of work, I use it in many ways to think through a lot of plans. It's really helpful as a thought partner for me, even if for communication, for general planning, or for something even as banal as trip planning.

Instead of asking a friend for advice you should think about asking an LLM or a chatbot for advice. That's when you really start to understand how it's useful.

• Susie Coughlin was concerned when her daughter struggled with reading skills at her public school.
• The mom of two was disappointed her district didn't teach phonics as part of its literacy program.
• She switched her child to a Catholic school where the girl thrived after being taught phonics.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Susie Coughlin, 43, an interior designer from Falmouth, Maine. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When our daughter, Carter, started struggling with reading, we thought it was related to her late birthday and the fact that almost everybody else in her class was a whole year older.

Her father, Paul, and I decided that she should repeat kindergarten in her public school. In her first year, she'd been put in a Response to Intervention (RTI) program to improve her literacy skills. However, at the parent/teacher conference during her second year, we were told she wouldn't receive RTI.

It didn't make sense because she wasn't progressing. Her self-confidence was low because it seemed like everyone else around her could read.

What I heard from the teacher was, "It's OK. We're gonna let your kid slide through." Being a child myself who was allowed to slide, I hit the brakes. At that moment, I thought, "My kid's not going to be the kid that's just going to slide through."

We had to employ a reading tutor

A key issue was the school district didn't teach phonics for reading. Instead, the kids are taught to scan the page for picture clues to the word — often at the expense of pronunciation and spelling.

For example, Carter wrote in her homework, "I went to the osen," rather than "I went to the ocean." The teacher hadn't corrected the mistake because the emphasis was on visual cues — a picture of the ocean — rather than spelling.

With phonics, you learn to sound out the word. It's a much more practical and efficient method of teaching literacy. It didn't seem like the district was going to adopt the method anytime soon. We had to search because private reading specialists are in high demand in our area, but we found a tutor for Carter.

She finished her second kindergarten year in public school before beginning first grade at a local Catholic school. It cost $10,000 a year, and we were fortunate enough to be able to budget for that.

We're glad we switched to a private Catholic school

The curriculum is very old-school, and they teach phonics. Carter, now 8, still has a tendency to look for picture cues on the page when she's reading, but she's getting there. It broke my heart when her confidence was in the toilet at her previous school. But her bucket of self-esteem is filling up.

We were so happy with the Catholic school that we sent Huddy, Carter's younger brother, there, too. He's attended for two years and has a good grasp and understanding of phonics.

In fact, at 6, he has excelled past his sister in reading because he has never been subjected to a nonsense visual cue program.

As for Carter, she has continued to study with a tutor at home, and we help her at night. The best thing is that she finally seems to be enjoying books and the written word.

Do you have an interesting story to share with Business Insider about the way that children are educated in school? Please send details to this reporter at [email protected]

• Nicole Chan Loeb is a 38-year-old photographer, videographer, and a mother-of-two.
• She and her husband prioritize experiences over gifts, so they invest for their kids in lieu of toys.
• They want to teach their children financial literacy and set them up for a secure financial future.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nicole Chan Loeb, a photographer and videographer from Boston. It's been edited for length and clarity.

My kids are 1.5 and 4 years old, and I've never bought them any physical presents for birthdays and holidays.

For birthdays, I'll make a cake, and instead of buying toys and clothing, I invest money for them to set them up for a more secure financial future. Plastic toys and knickknacks are temporary fun, but they cause clutter and landfill waste.

My mom taught me about stocks when I was growing up

Growing up, my mom used to tell me about the stocks or funds she invested in for me. Every week, we'd take the figures in the newspaper, chart them on graph paper, and stick them on the fridge. We mostly invested in mutual funds. That was fun, and I especially loved the special time my mom and I spent together. I similarly want to teach my kids financial responsibility and literacy.

My husband and I met in college in 2004. We both worked in the finance and accounting industry — I was in management consulting, and he was in internal audits — before deciding it wasn't for us. I quit in 2010, and he quit shortly afterward, and we both became entrepreneurs. I'm a photographer and videographer, and he owns an escape room company.

It was a considerable risk and I was absolutely terrified. But since my parents taught me financial literacy, I've learned how to save to be comfortable no matter what. Plus, the flexibility and fulfillment this lifestyle provides is very worth it.

We gift our kids investments instead of physical gifts

My husband and I don't exchange gifts in general. If we want something, we'll just purchase it for ourselves — after all, our money is pooled — so I find gift-giving challenging. Instead, we share and enjoy dinners, experiences, shows, and vacations. We give each other cards — it's more about the sentiment.

This year, my husband and I maxed out our kids' custodial Roth IRAs and deposited $7,000 each. My kids have been models for children's clothing lines, toy companies, and hospitality campaigns in my work as a commercial and advertising photographer, so the money is considered their earned income.

We decided to start investing for the kids last year because, from conversations with friends, we realized that we all wished topics like taxes, saving for retirement, and smart investing were taught in high school or earlier. We decided not to wait and agreed to start teaching these concepts as soon as our kids could grasp the basics.

Also, both my husband and I were lucky to leave school without a massive amount of debt because of our parents. These investments will allow our kids to graduate from college without an insurmountable amount of debt.

We're focused on Roth IRAs for now, but we plan to open investment accounts for them within the following year. If they don't have earned income in future years, we will set up a custodial brokerage account and invest for them that way. Because we both own our businesses, our salaries and incomes fluctuate, so we look at our finances each year and decide how much to invest.

Our kids are happy with spending time together

My kids are young, so the concept of expecting gifts has yet to solidify. And they don't really need anything. We're lucky to live in a great neighborhood where the parents pass on toys when their kids have outgrown them. I rarely purchase large toys or gifts, but I don't hold back from ad hoc purchases of crayons, markers, kids' card games, and board games.

Our children are happiest when we spend time together, doing things like lunch dates, playing board games, and baking. Happiness comes from experiences and relationships, and fewer material things promote creativity.

They spend a lot of time outside making up their own games, and we often play with things like sticks, stones, water, acorns, and pinecones. We want contented, balanced kids who aren't overwhelmed with things and toys and chasing the next new shiny object.

My husband and I find a lot of interest and joy in investments, and we hope our kids will as well. My four-year-old is very bright, and in the next year or so, he'll understand that you can put money in specific vehicles to grow, learning the concept of delayed gratification.

I'm hopeful that our kids will start making their own side income in high school and start to learn to invest for themselves as teenagers, just as I did while growing up.

If you have a unique way of teaching your children financial literacy and would like to share your story, email Jane Zhang at [email protected].

• Dr. Ferdinando Mirarchi has practiced emergency medicine for more than 25 years.
• He's seen many misunderstandings about end-of-life medical wishes.
• Families can start the conversation, but professional input is critical, he said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Dr. Ferdinando Mirarchi, DO, founder and CEO of MIDEO Health. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When I was a medical intern, I was in the intensive care unit one day when a 55-year-old mother went into cardiac arrest. I ran in to shock her heart back to life when the nurses started waving papers at me. The woman had signed a "do not resuscitate" order, they said.

I was paralyzed. This lady was dying in front of me, and I knew I could save her quickly. Luckily, a cardiologist rushed in and restarted her heart. She eventually went home to her family.

A few years later, during my residency at a trauma center, a man in his 60s came in, very ill. He was septic and unresponsive, but I thought, "I'm not going to make that mistake again." I started treating him aggressively until his wife came in and told me he had end-stage cancer and was in hospice. He just wanted to die without pain.

I realized that end-of-life care was a mess

I had made a life-and-death mistake on both sides. I had withheld treatment from a young, relatively healthy mom but over-treated a man who didn't want aggressive intervention and would die anyway.

That's when I realized that end-of-life care was a complete mess in our medical system. I started researching end-of-life wishes and wrote a book about living wills, which convey medical wishes. I conducted more research on how often people's wishes are misinterpreted or misunderstood and eventually created a video-based advanced directive, which conveys your wishes if you're unable to speak.

The issues around "do not resuscitate" orders (DNRs), advanced care directives, and living wills are complex and systemic. Still, we can't shy away from conversations about medical wishes with our loved ones. Here's how to have impactful discussions, and may reduce the risks of misinterpretation.

Recognize this is a hard conversation

There's a misconception that talking about medical wishes can be simple, but it's not. This is a hard conversation to have over a holiday dinner, asking Mom about her death and then saying, "Please pass the mashed potatoes."

Still, the holidays and family gatherings can be a spot to start the conversation without getting into the nitty-gritty details. People avoid this conversation because taking action is hard, so even a small step forward is helpful.

Focus on safety, not death

Death can be scary. So, instead of starting the conversation focused on end-of-life issues, center it around patient safety. Say something like, "Mom and Dad, we want to do what's right for you and make sure we're keeping you safe." Then, have a conversation about what safety means to each of you in a medical or care setting.

Set aside the idea of long-term life support

Some people think this conversion is black and white: do you want life support or not? But there's a lot more nuance. While most people say they don't want to live on machines, that doesn't mean they should sign a DNR.

For example, if you have a heart attack, there are simple procedures that can save your life without impacting future quality of life. When you take the idea of long-term life support off the table, you can have a more detailed conversation about what your loved one really wants.

When in doubt, err on the side of intervention

Many times, life support can be used as a bridge while you learn more about someone's condition. Remember, you can always start treatment, then decide to stop it. The opposite is not true—you can't bring people back.

Put your opinions aside

Always keep the patient at the forefront, and emphasize that their healthcare is their decision, up to the end. You can say something like, "If you want aggressive care and treatment, that's fine, but if you want something else, that's OK too." Many older patients are comfortable with death, but they never want to feel pushed toward decisions like signing a DNR.

Revisit the conversation

Choices around medical care look different as your life changes. I have an older mother and a 55-year-old brother who already went into cardiac arrest once and needed a life-saving bypass operation. As their health evolves, we update their wishes at least once a year. These are not one-and-done conversations.

Talk with a doctor

The choices around end-of-life care are very intense and nuanced. You may think you're being clear, but to make sure your wishes are followed in an emergency, you must present them in a way that clinicians can follow when they only have seconds to decide what to do. As part of my practice, I now help patients and their loved ones articulate their wishes using the specific terms that physicians use.

After more than 25 years in emergency medicine, I've seen the problems with end-of-life care, but with more informed conversation and better means of communication, I'm confident we can reduce ambiguity and misinterpretation.

• Sophie Kihm is the editor in chief at Nameberry.
• She says parents choose names they like, without worrying about what others think.
• Chappell Roan and Beyoncé are impacting trendy names for 2025, too.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sophie Kihm, the editor in chief at Nameberry. It has been edited for length and clarity.

Working at a baby naming site, I see how much thought parents put into naming their kids. In the past, there's been a lot of pressure to consider what other people, and society as a whole, will think about a name. But for 2025, parents are confidently choosing names that they like without worrying about others' opinions.

Here are the top six trends I'm seeing and 58 baby names that will be right at home in the new year.

New and unique names

These new and unique names are really trend-driven. They synthesize different elements of historic names that parents find interesting and put their own unique spin on them.

These names aren't just invented, and they're no less legitimate than well-established names. They're putting a fresh spin on names rooted in history, giving parents and their babies the best of both worlds.

Names for boys include:

• Luxton
• Jakai
• Kyaire
• Aven
• Ryett, pronounced like "riot," but spelled with a softer touch

Names for girls include:

• Evani
• Hollyn
• Mayli
• Scottlynn
• Novalie

Names for world travelers

For a long time, American names were those steeped in English or Germanic tradition. But now, we're seeing a rise in distinctly American names that also reflect a family's specific cultural or ethnic background. These are also names that "travel lightly" and can be easily pronounced and understood in multiple languages.

Names for boys include:

• Elio
• Kenzo
• Luca
• Hassan
• Soren

Names for girl include:

• Adalia
• Leilani
• Oona
• Eleni
• Akira

Cutesy names

For a few years, we saw parents gravitating toward names that felt a bit mature for a baby. Lots of parents were reminded they were naming an eventual adult, not just a baby. But in 2025, parents are taking the opposite tact: they're embracing cutesy baby names, and they're not worried that a lighthearted name will hold their kid back.

Cutesy names for boys include:

• Bash
• Sonny
• Cub
• Koda
• Albie

Cutesy names for girls include:

• Blossom
• Echo
• Dolly
• Georgie
• Aqua

Vintage names coming back

These classic names will eventually become beautiful and beloved. Think of the vintage names that haven't quite been revived yet. Parents in 2025 are ready to lean into those names, even if they're not quite ripe for revival.

Names for boys include:

• Howard
• Murry
• Morris
• Oswald
• Virgil

Names for girls include:

• Ethel
• Enid
• Rita
• Sybil
• Louis

Country rebrands

Modern parents love country-inspired names, but they're taking a more inclusive look at what it means to be country. This is inspired in no small part by Beyoncé's foray into country music this year. There's also a new spin on classics, like the all-in-one name Jessejames, after the infamous outlaw.

Country rebrand names for boys include:

• Santos
• Abner
• Enoch
• Hatcher
• Lyle

For girls, they include:

• Dottie
• Opal
• Susannah
• Lou
• Polly

Femininomenal Names

Another artist who's shaping naming trends is Chappell Roan. I haven't (yet) seen a surge in little girls named Chappell or Roan, but I'm seeing more parents leaning into feminine names that are witchy, gritty, and powerful, just like Chappell Roan's music. These are also names that reimagine the stories of women in history or lore, like Circe and Guinevere.

Other femininomenal names include:

• Amaryllis
• Cosette
• Freyja
• Lilith
• Salome

Parents naming babies in 2025 are questioning what they've been told and embracing the fact that they can choose a name that they love. It's ok to them that there are complexities to names — which matches the complexities of the people who wear them.

• Michael Allen stopped buying pricey Christmas presents for his friends and family in college.
• His financial priorities changed after leaving the Marine Corps and working toward his degree.
• Allen values time with loved ones over material gifts and emphasizes memories over money.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Michael Allen, a 54-year-old author from Titusville, Florida. It has been edited for length and clarity.

In 1995, I realized I couldn't give expensive gifts anymore. I was used to buying gifts to impress my loved ones, and I received nice gifts as well. At a younger age, I would get things like an Atari with games, boxing gloves, or a football. Gift cards, nice clothes, and even a watch were more common presents as I grew older.

As a college student and a recently retired Marine, my priorities were school and food. My next goal after serving in the Marine Corps was to get a degree. Not wanting to participate in the "who bought the most expensive present" game made sense.

I was getting by on side jobs

I tutored other college students and worked as a bouncer. Although I was only making enough money to cover my necessities, I was looking forward to achieving my goals of becoming an English teacher and a writer.

Buying extravagant things at the expense of putting myself in huge debt didn't seem attractive. I knew my financial situation had changed throughout my life, and I had to spend and save accordingly.

Reflecting on the hard work I put in made me extremely proud rather than ashamed of my financial background.

I decided to have a conversation with my friends and family

One day before Christmas, I asked my friends and family to lower their expectations regarding future gifts. I told them about my financial situation, what I could spend on, and what I was trying to accomplish.

Spending exorbitant amounts on Christmas was out of the question. Being open and honest about my struggles and primary issues worked out in my favor. I wasn't nervous to have this conversation.

Most of them understood, and I was truly relieved once I confessed. It immediately broke the needless superficial confinement I had put myself in to conform to the norms.

I also prepared myself to receive less of what I had previously

While some family members would still buy me costly gifts, some limited their splurging on me after this conversation. I was satisfied with getting whatever they would get me, even if it was nothing sometimes. Some even joined me in setting this boundary for themselves.

I started enjoying Christmas even more without having to impress people with my gift-giving superpowers. I became accustomed to speaking my mind and being truthful at all times. When you embrace life in that manner, many burdens are lifted.

Even as I make more money, gifts still don't seem important to me

My financial situation has improved, but I now sometimes only hand out one present per person. I make sure it's something meaningful and not just anything.

I once made my mother a loving video, and she still plays it often. On another occasion, I built a website for my daughter and made her a book. Personalization goes a long way.

Focusing on getting together with your loved ones and spending purposeful time with them are the only significant things of concern to me. Gifts are a component of Christmas, not the foundation.

Memories matter, not money. Food, drinks, old movies, and a good time is all I care about getting from anyone.

• In October, Meta fired around two dozen employees found to be misusing a Grubhub meal perk.
• An employee perk management expert shares four ways employees may not realize they're abusing perks.
• She says that abusing perks could come at a cost for the company and negatively impact employees.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sarah-Jayne Martin, a Chicago-based expert in financial operations and employee perk management at Quadient. The firm provides companies with financial automation software, including payments- and expense-related tools. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

Many companies offer perks to their employees to improve their working environment or build morale, often offered on the honor system. Instead of putting hard-line policies in place, many companies hope that people will be reasonable with perk usage.

But there's a gray area around what's considered "abuse," which happens when the perks aren't being used for their intended purposes.

Many times, employees don't necessarily feel like they're doing anything wrong. If they were manipulating their expense report, they'd know that that's wrong — but grabbing a six-pack of Coke to bring home to a party they're hosting that night might not feel that bad.

In the case of Meta, the intended purpose of offering GrubHub credits to employees is so that those who are remote or working late can eat. Where I think it crossed the line into taking advantage of the perk was when employees pooled their credits and purchased things besides food.

The abuse of perks is the kind of thing where if one person's doing it, maybe it's not that big of a deal — but if it becomes the culture, it really can negatively impact the company and employees in multiple ways.

Here are 4 ways employees may not realize they could be seen as abusing perks

1. Food

I've seen cases where people in charge of ordering food for a monthly team lunch order an extra pizza so that they can take it home for their family. It doesn't seem like that big of a misuse, but they're definitely intentionally buying something with the company resources that they plan to use not for its intended purpose.

That can also happen with office snacks. Especially in the tech world, a lot of offices have snack bars and fridges where you can just help yourself to whatever's in there. The intended purpose is for people who are in-office to be able to grab a drink or a snack as needed throughout the day.

But then there are cases of people who pack up a cooler and take a bunch of those things home. Maybe they feel like it's there for them to take, but they're taking advantage of that situation.

Grabbing something to eat on your way home is, in my opinion, totally fine. But if you're taking a whole case of trail mix home with you, that's clearly not what it was intended for.

2. Parking

If you're working in a downtown office in a big city like New York, Chicago, or San Francisco, one of the company perks that some companies provide to come into the office is to provide parking passes or discounted parking so you can drive to the office. An abuse of that might be giving your parking pass to someone who's visiting from out of town, or taking a parking pass that's meant for on-site clients to use and using that for your own personal use.

3. Travel

A lot of organizations have negotiated contracts with travel companies that provide employees with a code for discounted pricing on hotels, flights, or car rentals. While it may be considered OK for an employee to use it to book personal travel, sharing that code with people outside the organization isn't using it for its intended purpose.

4. Gym memberships

Some companies might offer gym memberships in the office building because they want employees to be able to exercise, be healthy, and have a break from their work. In that case, it wouldn't be appropriate for an employee to give their gym pass to their spouse to come in and use the gym.

It's the company's responsibility to draw the line between OK and abuse

I think the organization ultimately has the responsibility for drawing the boundaries of what's OK and what's a fireable offense.

That can be something as simple as, when rolling out a perk, saying something like, "The snack bar is here for employees who are in the office for meal times or for snacks. Be reasonable with what you take; taking large amounts of those supplies home isn't condoned."

If it's not clearly stated, employees may not feel like what they're doing is off-limits.

My advice for employees is to think about the intended purpose of the perks they're offered: Why am I being given this perk? And are my actions in line with that intention? Thinking from that perspective will probably make you realize when you're nearing an abuse of a perk.

Why misusing perks matters

Abusing perks could damage the relationships that the organization has created with other vendors.

In the example of gym memberships, the organization has probably negotiated discounted rates for company employees. If that gets abused and the gym finds out, it may retract the deal or the relationship between the company and the gym owner would sour. All of the people who've been using it appropriately could be impacted.

Misuse of resources also becomes a cost for the company. For example, if you're abusing the snack bar or using the photocopier to print your wedding invitations, it's a larger cost that the company has to bear.

It probably won't be so catastrophic that it impacts things like bonuses, but if enough people are abusing resources, it could put the financial stability of the company at risk — and impact whether the company is willing to spend money on perks in the future.

If you were reprimanded for abusing company perks and would like to share your story, email Jane Zhang at [email protected].

• As a graduate student at Stanford, Alex Yin, 32, had to decide between two internship opportunities
• He chose an internship in Bhutan, even though it was less relevant to his career.
• During his monthlong stint as an IT consultant, he learned how to grow from discomfort.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Alex Yin, 32, an options trader from New Jersey. He graduated from Stanford Graduate School of Business in June. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

As a Stanford Graduate School of Business student, deciding where to intern was tough.

I had two offers under the school's international program, the Global Management Immersion Experience. In order to graduate, fulfilling this program is required — either through the work abroad program or by taking a course on international business.

My first option was to work for a family office in Madrid, analyzing various investments. I had studied finance and statistics undergrad at New York University and had spent seven years in Chicago trading options at a large firm. It seemed like a natural fit and could be useful for anything I wanted to do in the future.

But I also had a second offer — a monthlong internship as an IT consultant at a hazelnut farm in Bhutan.

I had wanted to go to Bhutan ever since I went on vacation to Tibet when I was 17. It was such a magical place, and I wanted to return to a similar environment. I also knew it was a difficult country for visitors to visit as the government limits tourism.

It was a battle between my heart and my head. My heart was screaming, "Go to Bhutan! It doesn't matter what the job or company is. It's a cool opportunity."

Usually, I trust my head, but for this, I just listened to my heart.

I took the second offer

In August 2023, I flew 14 hours from New York to New Delhi and another five hours to Bhutan.

On the night I arrived, I met the CEO of Mountain Hazelnuts — an eccentric and friendly British man. The next morning, he took me to Tiger's Nest, an iconic monastery in Bhutan. It was an intense two-hour hike with steep and muddy trails.

Before the trip, I told myself I wouldn't care how uncomfortable it was and that I could spend a month without complaining. But it was day two, and I was like, "Wow, this is not easy. It's hot. I'm sweaty. There's a lot of poop around me. I'm about to fall." Still, I pushed through, and it was a magical experience at the top.

Later, we took a 16-hour car ride to Lingmethang, a small town in the eastern part of Bhutan, where I would work. I stayed in a three-bedroom home above the corporate office.

My week was divided between days in the office and field visits. As an IT consultant, my job responsibility was to manage a very limited IT budget and improve the security of their backup systems.

There was a point when I realized I'd actually never done any of this stuff before. "Am I qualified for the role?" I wondered to myself.

However, I learned that you can achieve a lot if you spend your time fully focused on solving a problem, even if you haven't had that direct experience before.

After work, I'd go to the village, drink a beer, and eat some momos, a type of dumpling, with my colleagues. They were locals between the ages of 25 and 45, and could all speak English well. I had to adjust to the simplicity, but I really appreciated it after a year at Stanford, where social events were nonstop.

Growing from discomfort

My biggest takeaway was that transitioning from a comfortable to an uncomfortable state isn't easy. But once you're in that uncomfortable state, it's pretty easy to maintain it.

In the village, I didn't have a lot of creature comforts. I had a pretty spartan life. But I was just as happy there, without the technology and distractions I had in Palo Alto. It's such a beautiful place that I didn't feel bored.

At night, I'd fend off mosquitoes, as locals don't kill them. I ran out of mosquito repellent in the first week, which was hard. The food also took a bit of getting used to, as it was mostly vegetarian.

Now, I live in New Jersey and am back in options trading. Although the internship was not entirely relevant to my career, it helped me gain confidence that if I try my best to solve a problem, I can still accomplish something.

I also appreciated how cohesive the company in Bhutan was. Although it wasn't doing well, everyone wanted to contribute their best. They held company barbecues where people would bring their families, dance, and sing into the night. I never heard anyone complaining during my time there.

I have found that this cohesiveness is hard to find in the US, where firms incentivize loyalty with money. I'd like to apply that to my future work places.

I will never regret choosing Bhutan, and I plan to return for a visit at some point.

• Nicole Echeverria felt unsafe in the US and wanted to try living abroad.
• She applied for graduate school because she thought getting a student visa would be easier.
• She now lives and works remotely from Nazaré, a beach town an hour and a half from Lisbon.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Nicole Echeverria, 31, who moved from New York to Portugal in 2019. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I'd had the itch to try living abroad for some time.

I grew up in New York, graduated from the University of Michigan with a bachelor's degree in economics in 2015, and then moved to Boston for work.

After the 2016 elections, I began to feel anxious about my safety. That's when I started seriously considering moving abroad. I just needed to find the right opportunity.

I knew a student visa would make it easier to move, so I thought, why don't I apply to graduate school abroad?

Most people think graduate school is only worth it if it can propel their careers forward. However, I saw it as a way to gain valuable life experience and keep me in the same career field.

I had a few requirements: The degree had to be business-related, taught in English, and American-accredited. It also had to be in a country with a lower cost of living so that I could pay for my degree without taking loans.

In the winter of 2018, I found the right program. It was a two-year Masters of Science in Business program at Católica Lisbon School of Business & Economics.

At that time, the program cost around 14,300 euros, which I had in savings.

I left Boston, where I had been working in content marketing, and moved back home to live with my parents in Long Island. For nine months, I focused on saving up as much as possible while commuting to New York City for work.

In August 2019, I moved to Lisbon. Although I had traveled to other parts of Europe, I had never visited Portugal. I went purely on the faith that if I wasn't happy there, I'd return to New York once I graduated.

I got really lucky that I ended up loving it. Lisbon instantly gave me a Los Angeles vibe. The weather was hot, but the beaches were beautiful. Everyone had a relaxed attitude, and people weren't on edge like they were in New York.

I didn't intend to stay

Around half a year into my program, the pandemic struck, and everything went remote. Many of my international classmates returned to their home countries. That's when I was faced with the question: Do I want to go back to New York?

Back in the US, I was always hyperaware of gun violence. Anything could happen walking in the streets of Manhattan, for example. A crazy person could approach you, and you just have to keep walking. It also looks like it's gotten worse, with incidents of women getting assaulted on the streets.

As hard as it was to be away from my family and close friends, prioritizing my health and safety was worth the loneliness of moving abroad. I felt less anxious about safety in Portugal, which solidified my decision to stay.

Portugal has a post-graduation work visa that grants international students a year of residence to find employment. After being on the visa for a year, I registered as a freelancer on a regular work permit and have worked as a social media manager since.

My family was surprised by my decision to stay. My dad told me that when my grandparents ask about me, he has to remind them that I live in another country now. But I still return a few times a year for Christmas or special occasions.

I'm planning a wedding in Portugal

In 2022, I met my fiancé through TikTok. He's Portuguese and commented on one of my videos. After two years, we moved in together in Nazaré, a beach town an hour and a half away from Lisbon.

We're planning our wedding in Portugal for August next year. We picked a venue an hour and a half away from Porto in the countryside. It's a gorgeous historic building built in the 1700s, and we're super excited about it.

The venue will cost $3,500 for a two-day rental, offering us the chance to have an affordable wedding.

Sometimes, I tease my fiancé with the idea that once I get my Portuguese passport, we can move to Greece or elsewhere in Europe.

For now, we dream of living in Lisbon and having a summer vacation house in Greece. From the relaxed way of life, lower cost of living, and the fact that I can work remotely as a freelancer, it just makes more sense to have my life here.

I'm definitely planning on staying for the long term.

• Katharine Horgan is a 30-year-old who recently lost her mother's locket on her way to work.
• The locket had been given to her by her mom, who died when Katharine was 7.
• After retracing her steps in London, Katharine found her mom's locket.

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

I was nearly at my office in London when I looked down and couldn't see the locket I had been wearing around my neck.

I panicked, lifting up my top in the middle of the street, thinking it had dropped into my bra. Tears were running down my face as I saw people looking at me, wondering what was going on.

It wasn't just any locket that I'd lost. My mom, who died of cancer when I was 7, had left the locket for me.

She left me beautiful memories

Mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was 18 months old. They gave her five years to live.

For the years she had left, she made beautiful memories with me. I remember getting my ears pierced when I was 5. It was one of the few girly things she'd be able to do with me. She knew she would miss me starting my period and all the other things that come with becoming a woman. She got some slack for it from my aunties, with them saying I was too young to have my ears pierced. But it was purposeful — she knew she wanted me to remember doing it with her.

She'd written cards for me to be delivered on each birthday until I turned 21. There was a memory box for me too, with a special message from her.

During her time at home, while I was in school, she'd work on tapestries and paintings that she'd later pass on to me.

Without my knowing, she'd curated a jewelry box for me to be given to me by my dad when I was 18. Some of the jewelry had labels. There was a ring that was clearly never worn, which she said was an anniversary gift from Dad that she hadn't had the chance to wear, and she hoped I was able to wear it.

The locket was among the jewelry. It wasn't labeled, and I don't know where she got it. But it has been precious to me since I had it.

I feel connected to her

She imprinted herself on me so strongly that there has never been a single day that I haven't tangibly had a mother. Even though she's not been alive for 23 years, I still feel her with me because of the way she so strategically left parts of her with me.

I've chosen to live in London, where I can walk along streets her feet have touched. The cards, the jewelry, the memory box, the art — all of it makes me feel connected to Mom, even though she isn't here.

And then I lost her locket. Inside the locket, there were chocolate wrappers she'd crunched up, not photos of her beloved family, which makes me laugh. She had once touched and worn that locket, and the thought of not having it at that moment when I realized it was gone was incredibly upsetting.

The idea of losing more of her when I had already lost her was incredibly upsetting.

I retraced my steps in hopes of finding it

While I was walking to work, I remember hearing something "clink" on the ground. It sounded like a bottle cap, but perhaps it was the locket?

Even though I was nearly at work, I decided to retrace my steps. I asked a friend to meet me to help me look for it, and I posted a message on social media, hoping someone would find it and return it to me.

As I walked, I glared at the ground, desperately looking for it. My friend and I couldn't find it on the ground anywhere.

I thought I would go to a café near where I had heard that clinking sound. I asked one of the guys working if someone had handed a locket in. He said no. But then another guy who worked there came in. When we asked him if he had seen it, he pulled it out of his pocket and said something had been handed in.

It was my locket. My mom's locket.

I burst into tears and completely freaked the two workers out. I just kept telling them, "Thank you!"

The whole thing reminded me that there are nice people around, people who want to do the right thing.

I've bought a new chain for the locket now and will keep it close to me forever, especially after this incident.

I don't have her yearly cards anymore, but putting on her locket and spraying my neck with her perfume grounds me, reminds me of her, and connects me to her.

• Jamie Jackson worked in HR for over 20 years and is now a podcaster and consultant.
• Jackson said when you're no longer engaged or growing at work, it could be time for a new role.
• Updating skills and preparing a job search toolkit can aid in career transitions.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Jamie Jackson, a 43-year-old podcaster and consultant in Nashville. It has been edited for length and clarity.

As someone who has worked in HR for over 20 years, I've had this conversation countless times. People often confide in me, saying, "Jamie, I don't know what to do next."

They feel stuck in their roles, want to advance, or are considering a new job — but that can be just as scary because it means stepping outside their comfort zones. I've been there, too, wondering whether it's time to quit my job for something new.

If this is you, here are four key signs you've been in your role too long and what you can do next if you need to make a change.

1. You no longer feel motivated

Your engagement level is a good indicator of whether you've been in your role for too long.

For example, you may have previously felt engaged in meetings but now find it harder to do so because you no longer feel motivated.

Or, perhaps you once enjoyed conversations with coworkers at the watercooler or over coffee — asking about their weekends or holiday plans — but now you simply do what you need to do and move on.

2. There's no room for growth

Another sign is feeling stagnant in your growth.

For example, I once worked at a company for five years and kept being promised a promotion. Over time, it became clear it wasn't going to happen — they didn't see me moving up.

For a long time, I believed their promise was coming, but it never did. To advance, I realized I'd need to change companies because the growth I wanted wasn't going to happen there.

Sometimes, there simply isn't room for growth, and when that's the case, it's a clear sign that it's time to make your next move.

3. Your feedback has plateaued

Or, you might find yourself hitting a feedback plateau.

For instance, you may consistently receive the same performance reviews, with your manager saying that you're meeting expectations but not exceeding them — suggesting you've reached a stopping point.

If you're thinking to yourself, "I don't have anything else to offer. I'm doing the same job I was doing three years ago without additional constructive feedback or recognition," it might be time to switch roles.

4. You're burned out

Another sign is burnout. In the past, I had a job where I felt physically sick going into work.

I remember one time needing to pull over to the side of the road to puke because I was so stressed.

As I sat in a parking lot trying to compose myself, I thought, I have to find another job. I knew my mental health was more important — but as I didn't have the luxury of quitting on the spot, I found another job first.

For others, there are times when environments are insanely toxic, and they need to get out immediately — and they should, but when possible, it's important to have a plan in place.

Either way, burnout or feeling physically sick from work might be a sign that it's time for a change.

If you realize you're no longer happy in your role, you need to do some self-reflection

Ask yourself, what are my goals? Where do I want to be? In your mind, try to understand where you want to be in six months, a year, or even further into the future.

Do you need a new title or a promotion, and if so, how do you get there? Before doing anything, it's really important to understand what you want. Then it's time to take aligned action.

Brush up on your skills

Maybe you're perfectly content with your current role; you just need to be challenged more. By learning new skills, you can push for more responsibilities.

You can use resources like LinkedIn or YouTube to brush up on skills like Excel or explore additional training or certifications offered by your current company. New skills can help you stand out in your current role or make you more appealing to potential employers.

Get your tool kit ready

If you're looking to land a new job, you need to learn new skills and prepare your toolkit.

This includes updating your résumé, refreshing your LinkedIn profile, and researching the salary you should be making.

When you start looking for a new job, knowing your market value is key — especially if you've been in your current role for a while and aren't sure what the going rate is. From there, talk to your mentors, colleagues, and friends, and let them know you're looking for something new.

You might say something like, "Hey, I think by March, I'm really going to start looking for another job — so can you keep your eyes and ears open?"

That can really help.

December isn't the easiest month to get a new job, with the holidays and people taking time off. However, January can be a better time as companies enter the new fiscal year — new budgets and new positions are being rolled out. But you can always be passively looking.

Some of us are content where we're at, but if you're no longer interested in stepping up or taking on new challenges, it might be time to reassess your role.

If you're an HR professional with unique career advice you would like to share, please email Manseen Logan at [email protected].

• Dual citizen Michael Stiege was raised in Canada but spent many years working in the US.
• The darkness and cold climate of Canada pushed him to sunny California.
• For Americans thinking they can simply move up north, it's not that easy, he said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Michael Stiege, 75, a dual citizen of the US and Canada. Stiege was raised in Canada and spent roughly 30 years working in California before moving back to Canada 15 years ago. He soon plans to split his time between the US and Canada. The conversation was edited for length and clarity.

Because I'm a dual citizen of America and Canada, traveling between the two countries is virtually a non-issue.

If you're an American coming to Canada, you can travel visa-free. Still, if you're planning to move here and be able to work here, that's another story.

You can visit for six months as long as you leave before the end of the six-month period. You can do that back and forth all the time — but you won't get access to the social system and healthcare.

My friends, who used to live in Chicago, moved to California and said, "We're going to move up to Canada when we retire," but they couldn't get a visa.

This fellow's a Ph.D. and a really smart technical guy — and his wife is pretty bright, too. They couldn't get a visa because they were simply too old. Once you're — let's say 50 — the immigration system disadvantages you. They have a merit-based point system and start worrying about things like age. That's the thinking. Once you reach a certain age, or if you don't have certain other legs up, the criteria by which you can get a working visa is stacked against you.

[In Canada's Comprehensive Ranking System (CRS) — which rates potential immigrants based on age, language fluency, education, professional expertise, and if you have a Canadian partner — applicants 45 years old or older receive 0 points.]

Whereas if you're a young guy just out of college, you have some reasonable skills, and you even know a few words of French, you probably wouldn't have a problem.

There are ways around it, but if the expectation is, "I'm just going to go up there and apply for a visa and get a visa," it may not happen like that.

I needed a change from the cold and long nights in Canada

I was born in Stuttgart, Germany. When my parents and I moved to Canada, I was about 3 and written into my parents' passports.

They got their visas and eventually became naturalized Canadians, which was bestowed on me. So, for all practical purposes, I'm a Canadian.

I grew up in Toronto, went to school in Toronto, and it wasn't until the early side of my career that I moved out into western Canada to Calgary and British Columbia.

I have an engineering degree and an MBA — which, at that time, was a pretty good combination to earn a job and make a living. I looked at the available jobs in the market and thought, "Go to Silicon Valley, where your skills will be valued the most."

I applied to a couple of things and got a call one day. It said, "Are you interested in coming down?" I said yeah, and there I was.

I needed warmer weather, and I was able to get rid of Canada's long winter nights. The summers in Canada were great — you could golf at 11 p.m. — but the winters were awful.

Seasonal affective disorder really got to me. It's not so much the cold as the long winter nights. It's dark. My wife says I had started hibernating, so I wanted to leave that behind.

I rented in the US and bought a home in Canada

When I moved to the US, I found that if I pushed myself, I could've bought a house, but I kept holding off. I found it easy to rent — it was affordable. I could get by without any problem. What I didn't put into a mortgage, I put into stocks and stuff like that.

I lived there for almost 30 years in two or three residences. I paid about $3,200 monthly in Los Altos Hills, California, right by Stanford University.

I came close to buying a couple of times, but the property tax burden in California is significantly higher than what you would find in Canada.

If you buy a house in California for $3 million, you're looking at $40,000 yearly in property taxes. [Zillow estimates a $3 million home in Santa Clara County would cost $36,300 annually in property taxes.] I could go on a trip for six months on that.

If I did the same thing in Toronto, I might spend between $6,000 and $8,000 — and that's a big difference. [According to the city of Toronto, a $3 million home costs $21,459 in city, education, and building fund taxes.]

I moved back to Canada about 15 years ago. My father was 96 then, and I said, "Let's go back." My wife is Canadian, and we have family up here. We settled in and bought our house.

We have a summer home up north in the lake country. It's not bad, but it gets cold in the winter.

If I ever move back to the US, my preference is California.

• Jennifer Takos was in the intensive care unit for three weeks after her son was born.
• After she was diagnosed with a rare disease, she felt a close bond with her doctors.
• She was shocked to see the doctor who saved her life when she moved her son to college.

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

After my son John was born, I was relieved that he was healthy, and I was healthy, too. Or at least, that's what I thought.

I had a planned C-section at NYU Langone Health. The night before I was set to be discharged, my husband Dimitri went home to spend time with our daughter, who was 2. We wanted her to be ready when we brought home her little brother.

That night, I started having difficulty breathing. I started pacing the halls, almost like I wanted to get some air. I stopped at the nurses' station to let them know something wasn't right. Then, suddenly, everything went very wrong.

My lungs had filled with blood

I don't remember much after that. There were so many doctors and nurses standing above me. Later I learned that the doctor called Dimitri and told him to get to the hospital immediately.

I had lost the ability to breathe, and doctors determined that my lungs were filled with blood. But they didn't know why that was happening. For three weeks, my husband, brother, and father were close by in the hospital as doctors in the intensive care unit worked to save my life.

Eventually, I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease: ANCA-positive vasculitis. It had been triggered by childbirth. Doctors stabilized me enough to send me home, but I was very sick for the early years of John's life. I ended up in the ICU five more times.

I regularly visited the doctor who saved me

Because of that, I became very close with my doctors. Dr. Ronald Goldenberg, a critical care specialist, had told my father, "I'm going to save your daughter." He did that not just after John's birth but each time I was back in the ICU.

When I went to the hospital for a checkup, I would visit Dr. Goldenberg. There's just no way to explain the connection and gratitude you feel when someone not only saves your life but does it in such a compassionate way.

Eventually, about 13 years ago, I moved away from New York and lost touch with Dr. Goldenberg. My dad still kept in touch with him occasionally, sending him a box of chocolates each year on the anniversary of the first time Dr. Goldenberg saved my life.

I didn't see him again until my son's college move-in date

Over time, my health stabilized, although I'm still on medications. John grew up. After graduating from high school, he took a gap year to play hockey. Then, he enrolled at Indiana University to study business.

As we pulled up to his dorm, I saw a familiar face. John was driving, and I practically leaped out of the car, saying, "Dr. Goldenberg?"

It was more than a coincidence. Dr. Goldenberg's son, Jake, is a year younger than John, but they're both studying business and were assigned to the same dorm. On a day when thousands of families were moving their children in, we happened to pull up just when they were out front. I know, for sure, it was meant to be. I felt a peace, knowing that John was exactly where he was supposed to be.

Recently, Dr. Goldenberg visited Jake. They met up with John and sent me a picture. Through this experience, John has learned more about my health condition and just how terrifying the weeks after his birth were. For me, reconnecting with Dr. Goldenberg is a reminder of why I have this beautiful life: because of him and the rest of my amazing healthcare team.

• Sarah Burghard revisited her priorities after the death of her mom in 2023.
• The 56-year-old mom left her old life and moved to Indonesia.
• She leads a relaxed existence in a place with healthier, less expensive food.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Sarah Burghard, 56, an interior designer from the UK who lives on the island of Lombok, Indonesia. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When my mother died in June 2023, I took some time out for reflection.

Suddenly, I was the oldest generation in the family and it got me thinking about where and how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.

I booked a flight to Indonesia, where I'd lived in the capital of Jakarta in the early 2000s with my then-husband and two sons. I spent a month processing my grief while soaking up the atmosphere on the island of Lombok.

I was struck by the warm smiles of the older local women. There was a joy in their faces. My mom had always been a positive person.

It made me realize how much age is respected on the island compared to where I'm from in the UK. I'd walk into a family-owned grocery store and the elderly matriarch or patriarch would be sitting at the counter, supervising whatever was going on. The younger people would ask — and listen to — their opinions.

I networked on Facebook to meet people

I returned home, feeling rejuvenated. It felt like every cell in my body had been refreshed through a combination of sunshine and relaxation.

I told myself that, if I could afford it, I'd try and visit Lombok once or twice a year. At 56, I wanted to ease into semi-retirement from my job as an interior designer, which I'd already been doing remotely since COVID.

Early last summer, I joined a Facebook group for people who lived in the small town where I'd vacationed. I asked if any expats or locals wanted to get in touch.

I was looking for social and business connections. To my delight, I heard from members including a real estate broker, a woman who ran a beach conservation group, and a bunch of yoga enthusiasts. I was excited to meet them during my follow-up trip to Lombok in August.

They'd already formed a vibrant community. There were meet-ups for activities like horse races when people would socialize and also talk about business and networking.

"What am I waiting for?" I asked myself. I decided to move to Lombok in October — as soon as my realtor found me a home. It's a two-bedroom villa, just an eight-minute walk from the beach.

The cost of living is cheap

Best of all, the rent was $2,500 a year. It was a no-brainer, considering my monthly mortgage in my home city of Bristol,was $1,260.

I moved as quickly as I could before the villa was snapped up by somebody else. I paid $250 for a visa that allows me to work from Lombok online and started consultations with my clients.

The cost of living here is incredibly low. You pay $6 for the same kind of massage that would cost $110 back home. I've paid close to $4 for a mango in a British supermarket. Here, they are 40 cents.

The weather is always around 85 degrees and I've embraced the great outdoors. I rent a scooter to get around for $180 a month and a full tank of gas costs just over $3. I realize that, along with many of the other expats who have settled in Lombok, I'm privileged to be in the position I am.

Some of my friends have told me I'm brave or inspiring for taking the chance of leaving the home that I've always known. But I don't view it that way. I'm embarking on a natural, next-step adventure in my golden years.

Do you have an interesting story to share with Business Insider about moving to a different country in later life? Please send details to this reporter at [email protected].

• Erwin Jacob Miciano left the Navy in 2021 to focus on his real estate business full-time.
• Miciano and his wife used VA loans to buy a triplex and start their business, Semi Homes.
• Semi Homes helps homeowners avoid foreclosure and launched Miciano's real estate career.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Erwin Jacob Miciano, a 27-year-old real-estate investor and the owner of Semi Homes in South El Monte, California. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm a dedicated dad, a committed husband, a real-estate investor, and the co-owner of Semi Homes, a real-estate company specializing in direct-to-seller transactions and marketing strategies. I co-own the company with my wife, Theressa.

I don't have a college degree. I graduated from high school in 2015 and first worked at Wetzel's Pretzels. I decided to join the Navy to support my family abroad in the Philippines and my mom and brother in the US.

In March 2016, after three months of boot camp, I completed the basic training to become a photojournalist. Until September 2021, I served as a mass communication specialist, with most of my overseas years based in Japan, stationed on the USS Ronald Reagan.

I separated from the military in 2021 to pursue real estate full-time

My Navy job included writing press releases, aerial photography, videography, and printing. In later years, I was stationed at the Naval Hospital Balboa in San Diego, where we covered COVID-19, and I was deployed with USNS Mercy to San Pedro in Los Angeles during the pandemic.

I was presented with an "early out" program because of overmanning in my job, and it allowed me to complete my contract a couple of years early. I had already started my business, but leaving the military allowed me to pursue it full-time.

I also wanted to spend more time with my young family. My eldest was born in January 2020.

My wife and I met on the day I arrived on the USS Ronald Reagan in 2016

We became friends through the first-response/firefighting team, where she worked as an electrician. We also noticed each other at church services, and she invited me to her baptism ceremony, where she was baptized inside an open jet fuel tank.

Early in our relationship, we lived together in a small Japanese apartment. Then, we spent about a year doing long-distance, with me still deploying on the carrier and her based in San Diego.

After a year of dating, we got married, and soon after some vacation in the US, we discovered we were expecting our first child. During most of her pregnancy, Theressa lived alone until I got stationed in San Diego around her seventh month.

That same year, I became deeply interested in personal finance and real-estate investing, inspired by stories of blue-collar workers achieving financial freedom through real estate. I learned the most from the BiggerPockets podcasts.

We were motivated to become first-time homebuyers

We were eager to apply what we had learned and planned to use the VA loan entitlement from our military service. VA entitlement is how much lenders can lend to a veteran or active duty member without providing a down payment.

We aimed to buy a multifamily property — ideally a duplex, triplex, or fourplex — so we could live in one unit and rent the others to offset our mortgage. Today, this strategy is known as house hacking.

Being stationed in San Diego gave us a few key advantages

The housing allowance we received as military members was higher than in most US locations, boosting our household income to about $10,000-$12,000 monthly. This allowance was discontinued once we both left the military. Theressa left the Navy almost a year before I did at the end of 2020.

Second, the VA loan allowed us to buy a multifamily property with zero down payment.

Third, we included 75% of the gross rental income from the property in our loan application, increasing our approved loan amount. On paper, our monthly gross increased to $15,000-$17,000.

Finally, new legislation removed local VA loan limits for first-time users, giving us more purchasing power.

After months of searching, we found a triplex listed for $1.2 million

We offered $1 million and settled at $1.1 million. By March 2020, we had moved into a three-bedroom unit while renting out the other two for about $4,000 a month, reducing our housing costs to less than what one-bedroom rentals were going for at the time. This was the start of Semi Homes.

After living in the triplex for two years, we moved in with my mom and brother in September 2021 in the San Gabriel Valley. The triplex is now fully a rental property generating $1,500 to $2,000 monthly profit.

My day-to-day work involves meeting with homeowners who are looking for support in selling their properties

We now buy properties and resell them for a profit. We also help sellers in deep foreclosure and save them from it. My role is to get my team in front of our target audience and guide clients through the entire process, all the way to the closing table.

There are also late-night administrative hours and business-building, which I work on three to four nights a week. The biggest change from my Navy days is that I'm no longer away from my family for long periods — a small freedom I cherish.

I feel both fulfilled and successful

While Semi Homes started as a way to build wealth and achieve financial freedom for my family, it's grown into something more.

We stay in this tough business because we truly believe in the value we provide to the individuals we work with. I'm focused on building our online presence and spreading the word that foreclosing is not the only option.

I see myself in real estate for the rest of my life.

Want to share your story about getting on the property ladder? Email Lauryn Haas at [email protected].

• Trina Read got her doctorate degree in sexology 23 years ago.
• She has two sons, who are 15 and 17.
• Parents should tailor their approach to talking about sex to each child, she said.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Trina Read, a sexologist and cohost of the Sensational Sex podcast. It has been edited for length and clarity.

When people learn that I'm a sexologist, they think that I'm an expert in talking to my kids about sex. Unfortunately, that's not the case. If I'm talking to clients about their sex lives, there's distance and objectivity. When I'm talking with my sons, who are 15 and 17, that goes out the window.

Still, I know I have an advantage over many parents. I'm lucky that my sons and I have had ongoing conversations about sexuality and sex for years. Some of those talks have made me squirm, but I'm glad we can have them. Here are the tips I've used to keep the conversations flowing.

Accept you're never fully ready for this conversation

Almost every time my kids bring up something they need to discuss, my attention is focused elsewhere, like on work or my long to-do list. My first response, internally, is usually, "You want to talk about this now?!"

But I have to remind myself that it doesn't matter how uncomfortable or inconvenienced I feel. When your child brings something up, you have to compartmentalize everything else and meet them where they are. If you delay the conversation the moment might be gone, and next time they might not be brave enough to ask.

Create a space for conversation

Each day, I take a 20-minute drive with the boys to school. Over time, the car has become our safe place to talk about tough topics, including sex. My sons know what's talked about in the car stays in the car, so they feel safe to ask me anything and everything.

The car is a great place for difficult talks since there's no need for eye contact, and no one can get up and leave. However, your safe space might be on a walk, at home, or while doing an activity you both enjoy. The key is to find out what works for you and your kids.

Keep their trust

Oftentimes, it's just me and the boys in the car. They might tell me something that they're not comfortable telling my husband. I have to respect their wishes, even if it sometimes means keeping secrets from their dad. I don't like that dynamic, and it feels like a heavy weight, but the trust my sons have in me is worth it.

Tailor your approach to each child

One of my kids is a very analytical thinker, who likes data, research, and methodical conversation. The other is a free spirit who isn't afraid to take a deep dive into any topic. Because of that, they need two very different approaches to talking about sex.

For my analytical child, I might leave books about certain topics in his room, and then broach conversations about them later. My free spirit, on the other hand, will shut down a conversation if I try to start one. I have to wait for him to bring it up, then we can go deep.

Find the approach that's best for your child, and remember that siblings might need entirely different tactics. Give information in a way that's comfortable for them, even if that's not the most comfortable for you.

Keep answers short and sweet

As parents we feel a lot of pressure to impart knowledge to kids before they start being influenced by their peers, the internet, and other social forces. Because of that, I sometimes found myself rambling. Over time, I learned to say less, which seems to keep my sons more informed and engaged. Now I just say what needs to be said, then stop.

Pause and clarify for questions that seem too mature

At one point, my sons were asking questions that I felt were beyond their maturity level. I said, "I could tell you the answer, but I don't think you're ready for the answer." They continued to ask and beg, so I told them, to some awkwardness and embarrassment for both of us.

Now, when I say something is beyond their maturity, the boys consider truly consider that response. One of my sons usually decides to hold off on the conversation, while the other prefers to still get the information in an age-appropriate way.

Accept that you'll have frustrations

Sometimes my sons have misconceptions, shame, or guilt around sex and sexuality. It's incredibly frustrating as a mom who's worked really hard to not pass guilt or shame, and to make them well-informed about sex.

When this happens I try to clarify with facts, research, and information. But to be honest, it doesn't always work. That can be disheartening, but I'm glad to be able to engage in on-going conversations with them.

• Samantha Shih sold her custom clothing company 9Tailors to join LookSky as chief brand officer.
• Shih founded 9Tailors in 2008, growing it through challenges like the financial crisis and pandemic.
• Her C-suite role both doubled her salary and allowed her to balance her work and family life.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Samantha Shih, a 43-year-old chief brand officer from Boston. It's been edited for length and clarity.

After graduating from Brown University in 2003, I worked as a consultant at Deloitte for three years before spending a year in China. There, I started making custom clothing, which inspired me to open a custom suiting and shirting company. I founded 9Tailors in Boston in 2008.

Launching a business was challenging because I had little experience in retail and fashion and had to learn everything from scratch. I had some business strategy knowledge from working at Deloitte but didn't have operational knowledge.

I learned and grew the company for 14 years. In 2022, I sold 9Tailors and jumped ship to work for a startup.

Launching a company in 2008 was tough

I had a lot of friends who were getting laid off, but I was optimistic. You can only go up from the bottom, so I thought it was an excellent time to start a business.

The company started online, keeping no inventory and making everything to order. This allowed us to identify our target customer — young professional males looking to dress up for work or weddings.

We've been profitable since year two, winning awards and garnering press until the pandemic threw everything off track. Running a high-touch custom clothing company that needed in-person contact and relationships was stressful. We pivoted toward making masks and sold out immediately.

Around this time, my brother called me one day out of the blue

My brother told me his former boss was advising LookSky — an Asian direct-to-consumer fashion brand looking to enter the US market — and they wanted to speak to a fashion industry expert. I had no set expectations for these calls — I enjoy helping people and sharing industry and fashion insights.

What started as one call turned into three or four calls. I met with the chairman, CEO, and the rest of the C-suite team. The company's chairman asked if I was interested in joining them.

I had to think about it. 9Tailors was never busier after the pandemic; there was so much pent-up demand for suits, shirts, and dressing up, and our revenue kept growing.

Two things made the decision easy for me

LookSky allowed me six months to transition out of my business and design my dream job description from scratch. Although I suggested the position of creative director, they offered to hire me as the chief brand officer. I was pleasantly surprised they wanted me at the C-suite level.

I loved running my own business but wanted to make more impact, so the opportunity arose at the optimal time. At LookSky, I would have the opportunity to scale a personalized experience to potentially millions of users.

Also, I had my first child in 2017 and wanted to spend more time with him instead of working crazy retail hours. I had started feeling worn down.

I accepted their offer and nearly doubled my salary at 9Tailors.

Balancing both jobs for a while was tough

During the six-month transition, I worked about eight hours daily, six days a week on 9Tailors. Then, after my son went to bed, I dedicated time to LookSky, often for team meetings or marketing and branding projects. I thrive on being busy, so it was manageable.

LookSky asked me to sell my business, but I couldn't talk about it until we signed the papers and closed because it could destabilize my clients and team if it didn't go through.

The final sale was to my CMO. Even though several businesses expressed interest in buying, I preferred to sell to someone who knew the company, our clients, and how we operate.

My last day at 9Tailors was the same day I announced my departure and the sale of the business to the team. To help transition, my husband, who worked at the company for a good chunk of the 14 years that I did, stayed on for another six months.

I work remotely for LookSky, as most of my team is in Asia

Working remotely was initially a shock because I'm an extrovert who loves being around people, but one of the biggest advantages is having more control over my schedule.

Mornings and evenings are typically dedicated to team calls. Afternoons provide a window for productive personal time — I might work out, dive into a business book (I'm reading "Good to Great" by James C. Collins), or listen to a startup or tech podcast like Lenny's Podcast, Hard Fork, or How I Built This. Best of all, I can attend my son's events and activities.

Last summer, I was diagnosed with breast cancer, which was a shock

After hearing of my diagnosis, my team could not have been more supportive, telling me to take as much time as needed. I like being busy and productive, and work actually allowed me some reprieve.

I've found a company that nurtures my strengths and encourages and supports me in learning new skills. I'm surrounded by bright people who motivate me to do my best work. I've grown and developed tremendously.

I don't miss running 9Tailors, though I'm incredibly grateful for the experience. While I might consider running another startup in the distant future, I'm genuinely happy with where I've landed.

Have you been poached and want to share your story? Email Lauryn Haas at [email protected].

• Dhruv Suyamprakasam launched a telemedicine startup and initially moved to Bengaluru.
• Bengaluru's fast-paced culture clashed with the healthcare industry's needs and the team moved back.
• He says that Bengaluru has its own merits and should not be compared to the Silicon Valley.

This as-told-to essay is based on a transcribed conversation with Dhruv Suyamprakasam, a founder who launched his startup in Bengaluru but later moved out. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

My father was a first-generation entrepreneur and ran a thriving business in the early 1990s in Coimbatore, a small city in Southern India. I would follow him on business trips, and growing up, I spent a lot of time in Bengaluru and Hyderabad, two of India's biggest business hubs in the south.

I studied mechanical engineering. During college, I became fascinated with entrepreneurship and building something of my own.

I first considered entering manufacturing, but I'd have to focus on making one product at a time. I decided building software was the answer, but I still didn't have an idea of exactly what I wanted to use software for.

Around this time, I met my now-co-founder, a medical doctor, who was also my relative, at a wedding. We kept in touch and came up with the idea of our startup — a telemedicine company that would allow people to access doctors virtually and across local and international borders.

I was a recent graduate with a good job offer. My cofounder was worried about how our family would react to me quitting to venture out on my own. But I absconded the job offer and began working on our idea full time.

Moving to Bengaluru

We brought on another cofounder who lived in Bengaluru at the time. I had read about the city being the center of the mainstream startup ecosystem. In 2010, moving to Bengaluru felt like the best decision for me as a founder.

But it wasn't the best place for us. It's a place that expects companies to grow fast and fail fast. I didn't think it was the right pressure to put on a healthcare startup, which has no margin for errors and requires a lot of trust from people. We met investors who had expectations like getting 100 paid consultations in a day.

Around 12 years back, I also felt like there was a lot of bias from investors. I felt excluded because I didn't speak Hindi, which is the most spoken language in India, and I did not go to college at the Indian Institute of Technology, the most coveted engineering school in the country. I also got some judgment for being from a small town many people had not heard of.

A combination of those factors helped us decide to move back to my hometown after around 16 months in Bengaluru.

There were challenges back home, too. We faced issues with our internet connection, which we never had in Bengaluru, and there was no established startup community. But it gave us the space to grow at our own pace.

Since then, we have onboarded about 4,500 doctors to the platform and have patients from all over the world. The company has grown to around 200 employees, and we have expanded to include health content on the platform, too.

Heart of India's startup scene

We even moved back to Bengaluru for a second time in 2016 because we had grown a lot more as a company and thought things might be different this time around.

We thought that maybe the first time around, we hadn't understood how Bengaluru worked and how things were done. We were ready to give it a second chance.

The inclusivity had improved because of the push for diversity, equity, and inclusion, but not much had changed for the healthcare industry like the speed at which we were expected to show results. We ended up coming back to my hometown after a year and a half.

The city has tons of advantages, like proximity to venture capital, a massive pool of tech talent, and more opportunities for networking, which can be helpful in the early days.

But building a business outside the tech hub is also a good option, especially because of lower costs. While employee salaries are usually on par, founders can save a lot on office space and home rent if they build from smaller cities and travel to Bengaluru as needed. I also think we need more tech hubs in India outside Bengaluru.

It's no Silicon Valley

I don't think Bengaluru should be compared to Silicon Valley at all. Since 2018, I have also spent time in the Bay Area growing our business. Now, our company is headquartered in the US, and I spend four to five months of the year in the US.

Bengaluru has an amazing tech crowd, but Silicon Valley is Silicon Valley for a reason — people are far more open-minded and inclusive about giving opportunities to those from different backgrounds, which has allowed it to become a sponge. The city just sucks up anyone with talent from across the globe.

It would have made me incredibly happy if the first large language model came from India, but it didn't. It came from OpenAI and Silicon Valley, where Sam Altman's team was allowed to burn cash for years before ChatGPT came to fruition.

It would be easier for anyone trying to build a software company that aims to have global customers move to the Bay Area for better access to funding and talent.

We call Bengaluru the Silicon Valley of India, but that is just another way Indians are comparing themselves to the West.

I think the way to go is to be great on our own account. One step in that direction is to be more inclusive and start seeing people for their talents rather than their educational or cultural backgrounds.