Mending Hearts Counseling

12/12/2025

12/11/2025

12/11/2025

Before you read this, I can’t help but think of Joe—this kid who had every barrier stacked against him and still kept learning, kept pushing, kept believing there had to be a way in. Daphne Koller’s story feels like it was written for kids like him. She didn’t just change education; she cracked open a world that was never designed for the Joes of this world… and in doing so, she proved that brilliance doesn’t need permission—it needs access.

At 13, she was studying at university. By 21, she'd decided that was wrong—not for her, but for everyone who couldn't.
Daphne Koller grew up tearing through textbooks faster than schools could assign them. While other kids memorized times tables, she was solving problems most adults couldn't understand. Her parents recognized something extraordinary and made a radical choice: enroll her at Hebrew University at age 13.
She earned her bachelor's degree at 17. Her master's at 18. By her early twenties, she was at Stanford becoming one of the world's leading artificial intelligence researchers.
But success opened her eyes to a troubling truth.
The same doors that swung open for her remained locked for millions of others. Not because they lacked curiosity or capability—but because of where they were born, how much money their families had, or which networks they belonged to.
Education was designed around scarcity. Elite universities accepted tiny percentages of applicants. Tuition climbed beyond reach. Geography determined destiny.
Knowledge wasn't scarce. Access was.
Then in 2011, something extraordinary happened in a Stanford office.
Her colleague Andrew Ng launched an experiment: what if we put a machine learning course online? Maybe a few hundred students would enroll. A thousand would be incredible.
Instead, over 160,000 people signed up.
They logged in from villages without electricity, from internet cafés in cities halfway around the world, from apartments where three families shared one computer. People who would never see Stanford's campus were suddenly learning from one of its greatest professors.
The revelation was seismic: the demand for education was limitless. Scarcity had always been artificial.
But when Daphne and Andrew announced they were building a platform to make this permanent—to give away elite education for free—the backlash was swift.
Critics insisted online learning could never match physical classrooms. Administrators worried it would cheapen their institutions' prestige. Skeptics predicted students would never finish without traditional pressure.
Beneath every objection was the same assumption: elite education must stay elite.
Daphne refused to accept that.
In 2012, she and Ng co-founded Coursera—a platform built on a revolutionary idea: world-class education should belong to anyone with internet access. No tuition. No admissions gatekeepers. No geographic barriers.
Four universities joined initially: Stanford, Princeton, Penn, and Michigan. Within months, hundreds of thousands enrolled. Within a year, millions.
Farmers in rural India learned computer science from California professors. Single mothers working night shifts studied public health. Refugees completed Ivy League courses from displacement camps. A global commons replaced the guarded fortress.
And those predictions about online students failing? They were wrong.
Thousands earned certificates, mastered skills, changed careers entirely. Volunteers translated courses into dozens of languages. What started as an experiment became a movement.
Daphne's AI expertise transformed how it worked. She analyzed how students learned, where they struggled, which explanations clicked. Data impossible to gather in traditional classrooms made continuous improvement possible.
Today, Coursera serves over 148 million learners across virtually every field imaginable.
Daphne eventually moved on to tackle another revolution—using AI to accelerate drug discovery through her company Insitro—but her impact on education keeps expanding.
She didn't just build a platform. She challenged a philosophy.
Education isn't about ivy-covered walls or legacy admissions. It's about teaching and learning. Credentials matter less than capabilities. And if knowledge can be shared at near-zero cost, gatekeeping makes no moral sense.
It all started with one question nobody else dared to ask:
Why should only the privileged learn from the best?
Sometimes the most powerful change comes from refusing to accept that things must stay the way they've always been.

11/29/2025

Megan Feller smoked pot several times a day and couldn’t eat, sleep, or function without it. But at the time, she didn't see the need to reach out for help.

“I didn’t think cannabis was a big deal,” the 24-year-old said. “It was really socially accepted.”

This attitude is common. As more states legalize ma*****na, use has become more normalized, and products have become more potent. But fewer of those who are addicted seek help for it.

Pot use among young adults reached historic levels in recent years, according to a federally supported survey. Daily use even outpaced daily drinking, with nearly 18 million Americans reporting in 2022 that they use ma*****na every day or nearly every day, up from less than 1 million three decades earlier.

Studies show a corresponding increase in cannabis use disorder -- when people crave ma*****na and spend lots of time using it, even though it causes problems at home, school, work, or in relationships. It’s a condition that researchers estimate affects about 3 in 10 pot users and can be mild, moderate, or severe.

And it's an addiction -- despite the common misconception that that's not possible with ma*****na, said Dr. Smita Das, an addiction psychiatrist at Stanford University.

Meanwhile, the drug’s widespread acceptance has fueled a stigma about seeking treatment, said Dr. Jennifer Exo of the Hazelden Betty Ford Foundation in Minnesota.

“There’s this pervasive belief that you can’t become addicted, it can’t actually be a problem,” she said. “It has to do with this myth that cannabis is safe, natural, and benign.”



Stronger w**d, bigger problems

While pot isn’t as harmful as harder drugs, frequent or heavy use has been linked to problems with learning, memory, and attention, as well as chronic nausea, vomiting, and lung problems among those who smoke it. Some evidence has also linked it to the earlier onset of psychosis in people with genetic risk factors for psychotic disorders like schizophrenia.

And today’s pot is not the same as that of the past.

Many people recall older relatives who “smoked a few doobies and ate some food and fell asleep,” Exo said. “But it’s absolutely different.”

In the 1960s, most pot that people smoked contained less than 5 percent THC, the ingredient that causes a high. Today, the THC potency in cannabis flower and concentrates sold in dispensaries can reach 40 percent or more, according to the National Institute on Drug Abuse.

Teens are often va**ng potent ma*****na concentrates, Exo said, rather than eating brownies made with cannabis flower or taking a hit from a b**g.

More access to ma*****na, rising ER visits

Pot is also increasingly available. Though it’s still a federal crime to possess it, 24 states allow recreational use by adults and 40 allow medical use as of late June, the National Conference of State Legislatures said. Dispensaries abound, and more people are able to keep pot at home.

Research links the legalization of recreational ma*****na with rising emergency room visits for “acute cannabis intoxication,” in which patients may experience a rapid heartbeat or feel dizzy, confused, or paranoid.

A study last year focused on Michigan found that legalization was associated with an immediate increase in the rate of ER visits for this condition among people of all ages, especially middle-aged adults.

Das said increased access to cannabis, along with a growing number of cannabis products with higher potency, contribute to rising ER visits. Edibles such as gummies can pose a particular problem because they take a little while to kick in, so people may keep taking more, because they don’t yet feel the drug’s effects.

“Then, suddenly, they’re suffering from cannabis toxicity,” she said.

Why treatment is often overlooked

Feller first tried pot at 16 and quickly went from smoking the plant to using v**e cartridges that were easy to hide in her pocket. Soon, she could barely get by without it.

“I would wake up every morning for years, and until I smoked w**d, I would throw up,” she said. Instead of trying to get high, she used it “to make these other symptoms go away.”

Feller was also drinking a lot, and her parents sent her to a treatment center when she was around 18. It didn’t help, because she wasn’t ready to get well. After her mother died, her substance use worsened.

At 22, Feller entered Hazelden on her own -- but only to get sober from alcohol, which she did.

She kept using pot on and off, then finally sought treatment for cannabis use disorder and has been sober from ma*****na for almost a year.

“I’m so much happier now,” she said. “I don’t feel, like, shackled to a substance.”

Such treatment is often overlooked, said Brian Graves, a researcher at Florida Atlantic University.

He and his colleagues published a study this year showing that the share of people who got treatment for cannabis use disorder from their nationally representative sample dropped from 19 percent in 2003 to 13 percent in 2019. An earlier study also found a marked decline and pointed to reasons that include “expanding cannabis legalization and more tolerant attitudes.”

Experts said people need to be educated that pot, like alcohol, can be misused and can cause real harm.

“Another important piece is helping people understand the risk before they start,” Exo said, “and then to feel safe enough to say, ‘Hey, I need help managing this.’”

Many people wait until their ma*****na use causes problems in multiple parts of their lives before they seek treatment -- if they ever do.

“If you’re changing your life because of w**d, there might be an issue,” Feller added. “There are resources to get help, and you are not alone.”

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11/28/2025

Happy Thanksgiving
to the ones who don’t have a big family gathering today.

To the people eating alone.
To the ones keeping it small.
To the ones who weren’t invited.
To the ones who chose peace over chaos.
To the ones who lost someone and feel that empty seat.
To the ones who don’t have a “table” that looks like everyone else’s.

You’re not any less loved.
You’re not any less worthy.
You’re not any less “holidayish” because your day looks different.

Some families are loud and crowded.
Some families are one person and a plate.
Some families are chosen, not blood.
Some families are still being built.

However today looks for you…
I hope you find a moment of comfort.
A moment of warmth.
A moment that reminds you you’re not alone in this world.

Happy Thanksgiving to the ones with quiet holidays.
You matter just as much as the full tables.

11/14/2025

Lady Gaga had a psychotic break after filming "A Star Is Born" and while on her "Joanne" world tour: “I did ‘A Star Is Born’ on lithium.” https://wp.me/pc8uak-1lGzbt

“There was one day that my sister said to me, ‘I don’t see my sister anymore.’ And I canceled the tour. There was one day I went to the hospital for psychiatric care. I needed to take a break. I couldn’t do anything … I completely crashed," Gaga told Rolling Stone. "It was really scary. There was a time where I didn’t think I could get better.… I feel really lucky to be alive. I know that might sound dramatic, but we know how this can go."

11/10/2025

11/07/2025

Depression Is Not Just a Chemical Imbalance New Brain Study Reveals

Scientists have uncovered a finding that could completely change how we understand mental health. New brain‑imaging research shows that depression is not simply caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain, overturning decades of conventional thinking. Instead, the study reveals that structural and functional changes in key brain circuits, particularly those involved in mood regulation, decision‑making, and emotional processing, play a much bigger role than previously believed.

This discovery is more than a scientific revelation—it has real-life implications for millions of people. For decades, depression has often been treated solely with medication aimed at correcting supposed chemical imbalances, leaving many patients frustrated when treatments failed or caused side effects. Understanding that depression stems from complex changes in brain networks opens the door to more personalised therapies. These could include targeted brain stimulation, cognitive training, lifestyle interventions, and innovative treatments designed to restore brain connectivity and function.

The research also offers hope and validation for those who have struggled silently. It reinforces the idea that depression is not a personal failing or weakness, but a deeply biological condition shaped by multiple factors. By focusing on the brain’s intricate wiring rather than just its chemistry, scientists may soon develop treatments that are faster, more effective, and better tailored to each individual.

This breakthrough invites us to rethink everything we thought we knew about mental health. It challenges outdated assumptions and encourages a more compassionate, scientifically informed approach to care. Imagine a future where depression is treated not only with medicine but with strategies that truly restore brain balance and wellbeing. The path to mental wellness is becoming clearer, and science is lighting the way.

11/04/2025

10/24/2025

At 2:07 a.m., I called the crisis line and said, “No one is hurt. I’m just twelve and tired of being the grown-up.”

I was sitting on the kitchen floor because the tile felt less cold than the concrete in the bedroom. My sister, Maya, slept on my coat, mouth open, one hand gripping the ear of her stuffed fox. The air mattress had given up last week and never forgave us. When the fridge rattled, Maya mumbled and pulled her knees up like she knew the noise was our lullaby.

The woman on the phone spoke softly, like she didn’t want to wake my building. “I’m glad you called, Jayden,” she said, because I told her my name. People forget your name when they’re busy, so it felt like a blanket when she remembered. “Is there danger in the home?”

“No,” I said. “Mom’s at work. She does the night shift unloading trucks, then sometimes deliveries. She’ll be back at six. It’s just… I’m tired. And Maya rolls onto the concrete when she sleeps.”

“What would make tonight easier?” she asked.

“A place for her to not fall off,” I said, and I realized I was crying, and it wasn’t loud, it was just like my face decided to tell the truth.

They came fast for a night without sirens. A knock like a question. A man and a woman in dark jackets with a small emblem that said Community Response. The man—his name was Luis—took his shoes off at the door and crouched so we were eye level. The woman, Bri, whispered hello to the stuffed fox and Maya smiled in her sleep like she heard it.

“Can we look around?” Luis asked. They moved slow, like the room was fragile. It was. We had a table with one leg shorter than the rest, two plates, a pot that used to be someone else’s. On the wall, my drawings—houses with big square windows colored yellow. I taped them up straight even though the paint bubbled.

“You draw?” Luis asked.

“Sometimes,” I said. “When Maya naps.”

“What’s your favorite thing to draw?”

“Lights in windows,” I told him, and felt dumb for how serious it sounded. But he didn’t laugh. He nodded like I had told him something important about the world.

Bri set down a folded blanket, two pillows wrapped in plastic, and a little nightlight shaped like a moon. “Tonight, we can fix the cold,” she said. “Tomorrow, we’ll fix the falling off.”

They didn’t ask for paperwork. They asked what kind of stories Maya liked. They filled two cups with water and let me keep the cups. Before they left, Luis put a sticky note on the fridge. You are a kid. Resting is brave. We’ll be back.

I kept that note like it was a law.

In the morning, Mom tiptoed in smelling like warehouse dust and peppermint gum. She kissed Maya’s hair without waking her. “Who brought the moon?” she whispered.

“People who knew our address,” I said, and her eyes did that glassy thing like rain was trying to come in and she was holding the window shut.

The next evening, the hallway felt different, like a secret was walking toward us. Luis came back with two firefighters in t-shirts, carrying pieces of a bunk bed that looked like a giant puzzle. Bri had a flat box that turned into a desk, and a chair with a wobbly arm that she tightened with a coin. A lady from the library—her name was Ms. Patel—brought a little gray box. “A hotspot,” she said. “Free, like books. It’ll help with homework.”

Our neighbor, Mrs. Green, shuffled over with a bag of cloth. “Remainders from my sewing,” she said, and somehow the cloth became a curtain that turned the corner by the window into a room of its own.

They moved like a team that had done this before: measuring, laughing quietly, vacuuming the dust bunnies that had learned our names. Luis lifted the frame without scraping the wall, like he was carrying something alive. When they slid the mattresses in, I touched the fabric to make sure it was real. It was springy and clean and smelled like a big store where everything is folded the same.

“Top or bottom?” Bri asked Maya.

“Top,” Maya said, and then looked at me, waiting for permission like I was older than I wanted to be. “You can have it,” I told her. “I’ll be the dragon under your castle.”

We plugged in the moon light, and Ms. Patel strung tiny star lights across the curtain. When the room lit up, Maya did that tiny gasp kids do when the world gives them a surprise without saying please. She climbed up, slid down, climbed up again, and then lay still, staring at the stars like maybe they knew her.

Luis tapped the sticky note still on our fridge and added another under it: Your drawings belong on the wall and in the world. Don’t forget.

The firefighters left a small toolbox. “In case a screw gets loose,” one said. “Happens to all of us.”

After they were gone, the apartment felt taller. Mom came in from her second delivery run and put a hand over her mouth. She sat on the lower bunk and didn’t speak for a long time, which is how I knew she was using all her words on not crying.

I climbed to the top bunk beside Maya and lay on my back. The ceiling didn’t look like a ceiling. It looked like the bottom of a boat. I felt the bed hold me the way the floor never could. I didn’t know I was holding my breath until my body remembered how to put it down.

Sometimes when you finally lie down, your bones talk about how long they’ve stood. Mine were loud. I covered my face with my forearm so nobody would have to manage me being a kid. But Luis had written it already: resting is brave. So I let myself.

Before dawn, Mom sent a photo to a number Bri had left on the counter: two kids asleep in a room with stars. At 6:28 a.m., a text came back: Thank you for letting us help. We’ll check in next week. No rush on returning the hotspot.

I took my pencil and drew another house. Same big windows, same yellow light. But this time I added people behind the glass—little stick-me on the top bunk, Maya with her fox, Mom sitting at the bottom edge with her shoes off, a moon on the wall that worked even when the sun did not.

When I taped it up, it didn’t curl.

Here’s what I learned at 2:07 a.m. and again at 6:28: sometimes safety isn’t a siren. Sometimes it’s a bed that doesn’t leak, a curtain that pretends a corner is a door, a librarian who believes Wi-Fi is a right now, and a note on a fridge telling a kid that being a kid is allowed.

If you’re reading this, maybe you have something gathering dust—a spare pillow, a lamp, a number for the library. Maybe you have a minute to ask a quiet question: “What would make tonight easier?” It doesn’t take a millionaire to change a childhood. It takes someone who remembers a name and shows up with light.💡