When I was 41, my therapist handed me photos of every boy in my fourth grade class and instructed me to condemn each one to the paper shredder. It was my first experience of truly being in the driver’s seat, and I felt giddy with control.

From an early age, I’ve carried an acute fear of rejection and abandonment. This has made dating challenging, to say the least. My typical dating pattern used to be the following: I’d meet someone I liked, become enamoured, only to find myself spiralling into persistent anxiety, worried about when and how the relationship would end.

That sense of unease began in middle school.

The night my friend revealed she had a boyfriend, we were bundled in sleeping bags on chalet bunks, up past curfew during our eighth grade ski trip. She was the first in our group to date.

As the girls clamoured for details (“What does he look like? What school does he go to?”), I should have known something was off when the only question I thought to ask was, “Aren’t you terrified that he’s going to break up with you?”

Although it would be years before I experienced romantic heartbreak firsthand, I now realise that even then, I was already bracing for the worst.

By the time I was older, like anyone who frequents pop psychology circles, I was aware of attachment styles and how early childhood experiences can shape adult relationships. Yet, I grew up in a safe, stable home with parents who didn’t always get along but loved and supported me unconditionally, so I never really understood where this anxiety came from.

This confusion persisted until 2021, when a session with my therapist changed everything.

At that time, I’d booked an appointment because I had just started seeing someone new. It was the first person I’d liked since the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, and I’d noticed my usual pattern taking hold again. I was overcome with anxiety over whether things would work out, and it was keeping me up at night and distracting me at work. This time, though, I felt exhausted. I was ready for a change.

“I don’t want to feel this way anymore,” I told my therapist.

Her first question was to think back to my childhood and pinpoint when this fear of rejection might have started. One incident immediately stood out.

In fourth grade, we had our first sex education class. Not long after, the boys in my class lined all the girls up against the exterior wall of our school and took turns rating each of our bodies – hot, not or disgusting. Some of the boys took it a step further and pointed out who was “flat as a board.” It was most of us; we were barely 10 years old.

It was such a humiliating and disorienting experience. I don’t remember how each of the boys rated me – not that it mattered – but I felt disgusting.

At that age, I was still very much a kid and hadn’t even started liking boys. My favourite book was Harriet the Spy, and I loved taking ballet classes, reading books and playing with Barbies with my three best friends. I also thought I was pretty cool, being the proud owner of sparkly jelly shoes and an impressive sticker collection.

Suddenly, it was like none of that mattered, and I was now hyperaware of my body and how it was perceived by boys.

Part of my childhood died that day. The message was clear: it doesn’t matter how you feel about yourself; what matters is being chosen and that boys choose you, not the other way around.

For years, I dismissed this firing squad of tween-age rejection as just another weird story from adolescence. But when my therapist prompted me to recall the memory, I finally understood how deeply it fuelled both my fear of rejection and the perfectionism I carried into my romantic relationships.

When I started dating in my late teens and early 20s, I was focused on making myself as likeable as possible, and I became really good at it. I shape-shifted myself into the ultimate “cool girl”. I never asked for too much from my partners out of fear they’d reject me. Instead, I swallowed my feelings and discomfort, shrugging off subpar treatment from the people I dated.

You don’t want to commit, but still want me to act like your girlfriend? That’s OK. I’m the cool girl! I’ll bring you homemade soup when you’re feeling sick, even though I’m not sure you even know my last name.

I felt like I was always proving myself, and being chosen was the reward. It’s only now that I can see I spent years so focused on being what my partners wanted that I rarely stopped to ask whether they were enough for me.

Even in the relationships where I felt safe to show up authentically, I struggled to express my needs. There was always a little voice warning that if I revealed too much of myself, I would be deemed “disgusting” all over again.

Sharing this with my therapist, she helped me realise that my fear of rejection was only part of it. What I struggled with was people-pleasing. In pursuit of being liked by other people, I abandoned myself.

It was time to stop the cycle. My therapist decided on an unconventional approach: reject the boys once and for all.

As homework, she had me print photos of each of the boys who’d participated in the “lineup” in middle school – an easy task since I grew up in a close-knit community, and I’m still in touch with many of the people I went to school with on Facebook.

When I arrived at her office the following week, photos in hand, we spread them on the floor.

Seeing all of the boys’ photos – now middle-aged men with grey hair and receding hairlines – and rejecting them, out loud, was unexpectedly powerful.

I was finally able to see my tormentors for who they are: a bunch of guys I wouldn’t want to date anyway. In fact, most of them are married, and I’m queer and currently much more interested in dating women.

My therapist had me face each man and reject them one by one.

“Are you ready for the fun part?” my therapist asked.

She led me over to her desk, and together we eviscerated the photos in the paper shredder.

My therapist’s exercise might seem out of the box, maybe even a little mean to some, but it did exactly what she had hoped: it set me free.

It made me realise that I no longer have to play by a middle school rulebook that never served me. I don’t have to wait to be chosen; I can practice discernment and actively choose myself instead.

Unlearning a lifetime of people-pleasing is an ongoing, tricky process. At our core, I think most of us want to be liked and loved by others. It’s why rejection stings.

While I still fear rejection sometimes – I get anxious when I see those three blinking dots after I’ve sent a text to someone I like – I’ve stopped basing my self-worth on what other people think of me.

Instead, I’ve made it a habit to boldly show up as myself in my friendships and the communities I frequent. I’m learning that by sharing and being honest about the parts of me that I used to worry were “disgusting” (for example, that I am not cool and detached, but rather sensitive and have very big feelings), the right people are actually drawn to me rather than repelled.

I’ve also gained clarity about what I actually need from a relationship, such as steadiness, consistency and emotional safety, which has made it easier for me to spot when a connection isn’t aligned. As a result, it takes me much longer to get into relationships than it did in the past – and I’m OK with that.

Rejecting people who aren’t a good fit still feels uncomfortable sometimes, but I see it as a form of self-care, like I’m sticking up for that little girl version of me who felt so disempowered.

Now, when I meet someone new, I don’t wonder if they’ll choose me. I ask a different question: Do I even like them? And I let the answer guide me.

Simone is a writer and host of the podcast “We’re Never Doing This Again.” She is a nationally syndicated relationship columnist for the Toronto Sun, and her words and photographs have appeared in Apartment Therapy, Business Insider, The New York Times, The Washington Post and more. You can follow her on X and Instagram at @simone_paget.

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A councillor who left the Conservatives to join Reform UK has called his own defection “the biggest mistake of my life”.

Robbie Lammas, elected as a Medway councillor in 2021, joined Reform in October 2025 – and is already planning to quit Nigel Farage’s party.

“I’m going to leave Reform, I’ve had enough, it’s not what I signed up to, and I feel I’ve been misled,” he told the BBC. “Yeah, I am embarrassed about it. It was a huge mistake.

“Lots of others from Reform have told me they too feel it was a mistake to defect but they’re not in a position to publicly admit it, but for me I’m happy to admit I’ve made a big mistake.”

He said the move was the “biggest mistake of his life”, adding: “I think at the time I was used for a news story.”

Reform announced 20 Conservative councillors had joined its ranks last autumn on the penultimate day of the Tory party conference.

Lammas, who now sits as an independent councillor, said: “I find with Reform they’re good at spin, but struggle with good governance.”

A Reform UK source said: “We rejected him for a job multiple times – a failed Tory is no loss to the party.”

The right-wing party only has eight MPs, but it has frequently pointed to its victories in local elections as proof of its growing popularity.

Reform won the largest number of seats in England in May 2025, securing 41% of all local authority seats (677 in total) being contested at the time.

The party also picked up more than 1,450 council seats this year.

But 21 councillors have been kicked out of Reform since winning their seats, while 33 others have defected, seven have been suspended and one disqualified.

A further 47 have resigned and five have lost their seats.

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Nigel Farage has been dubbed “the Enoch Powell of the social media age” after he said that Britain was now a “two tier state against white people”.

The Reform UK leader made the incendiary claim in the first of a series of essays he plans to publish on Substack.

He said he had decided to start using the platform because “the mainstream media constantly distorts what I say”.

In the essay, published on Sunday morning, said the “British state is no longer working for everyone in this country”.

That was in reference to the murder of Henry Nowak, who was arrested and handcuffed by police as he lay dying after being wrongly accused of racism by his killer, Vickrum Digwa.

“There is nothing fair about the way white people have been treated by their governments,” he said.

Housing, healthcare, education, policing, the military and the workplace are all listed as being adversely affected by what he describes as “deeply anti-white racism”.

“Anything which is seen to disadvantage a minority group is cracked down on,” he said.

“Anything which benefits a minority and damages the White British is likely to be left alone.”

On housing, he said that during the last century, “rules which gave priority to local people and ties to the area were stripped away”.

Farage said that under a Reform government, foreign nationals living in social housing would be given a three-month grace period to relocate to private rented accommodation, or face deportation.

But Lib Dem leader Ed Davey accused the Reform leader of “pushing the politics of grievance and division”.

He said: “Nigel Farage has turned into the Enoch Powell of the social media age.

“He’s trying to excuse racist disorder and violence against police officers. He’s pushing the politics of grievance and division that goes totally against our fundamental British values of tolerance and decency.

“Farage is desperate to turn our United Kingdom into his version of Trump’s America. We can’t let him.”

Enooch Powell was a Tory minister who sparked outrage with his infamous 1968 speech warning of “rivers of blood” due to mass immigration.

Former defence minister Al Carns, who resigned in protest at the government’s spending plans for the armed forces, said Farage was “a race-baiter in a Barbour jacket”.

Culture secretary Lisa Nandy told Sky News that Farage “should take his nasty hate and anger and division somewhere else”.

“I think people want hope,” she said. “They don’t want more anger, they don’t want more division, they don’t want more hate, and I wish he’d just take it somewhere else.”

Posting on X, Tory MP Ben Obese-Jecty also rejected Farage’s claims.

“Trying to whip up the politics of grievance will be a genie that’s difficult to put back into the bottle,” he said. “Nigel Farage isn’t stupid. He knows that.”

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Sunday scaries – or feelings of dread and anxiety that build before the working week – are believed to affect as many as 67% of UK workers.

Psychologist Kia-Rai Prewitt told Cleveland Clinic it’s an “anticipatory anxiety”, meaning it has to do with your expectations of coming stress in the work week.

We’ve written before at HuffPost UK about signs your Sunday scaries may be more than normal work dread. And new research from travel agent SpaSeekers has sought to find the jobs that make us stress the most before Monday even hits.

The SpaSeekers study, which polled 1,000 UK workers, found that people spend an average of 2.5 hours a week worrying about their work on the weekend. That amounts to 200 days over a lifetime (woah).

Just over a quarter (26%) of employed adults surveyed said that the Sunday scaries make them lose sleep, while 21% shared it means they can’t enjoy the last day of the weekend at all.

Work stress and busyness are the most common sources of anxiety (29%), while a heavy workload affects 23% of employees.

“Imposter syndrome”, or feelings that you’re not good enough, and worries about being asked to come into the office more often, affected 11% of respondents each.

Per this survey, the worst jobs for Sunday scaries were revealed as being:

1) Finance
The Sunday scaries were found to regularly affect 95% of those in this category.

2) Human resources (HR)
Affects: 91%

3) Manufacturing
Affects: 87%

5) IT and telecoms
Affects: 84%

8) Healthcare
Affects: 83%

9) Arts and culture
Affects: 82%

10) Building and construction
Affects: 76%.

Kerry Sutcliffe, a corporate and individual coach at Kerry Sutcliffe Coaching, said: “The Sunday Scaries could be described as a physical alarm bell, telling you that something is not right. It’s a sign, a flashing red light and something you should listen to, pay attention to, and take action on.”

That might include planning your week ahead of Sunday, she added. “I recommend doing this on a Friday afternoon… Once done, you can close the laptop and enjoy your weekend, knowing you’re all set for Monday morning,” she advised.

“Get all of those unhelpful thoughts out of your head and down on paper!”

The NHS suggests you should see a GP about anxiety if you’re struggling to cope with fear and panic, and/or if lifestyle changes like getting enough sleep and exercising don’t help.

The UK government’s decision to ban under-16s from major social media platforms is a significant moment.

It reflects what many parents already know: the online world is exposing children to content and experiences they simply are not equipped to deal with.

But we should be careful not to mistake a step forward for a complete solution.

A social media ban is a bit like putting a lock on the front door while leaving the back door wide open. It will help some children. It will certainly make access more difficult.

But it does not address the wider reality of how young people use technology.

Children are not only spending their time on Instagram, TikTok and Snapchat. They are on WhatsApp. They are on gaming platforms. They are using AI tools. They are communicating through dozens of apps and services that fall outside of the traditional definition of social media.

Harmful content does not magically disappear because one category of app is restricted.

The other uncomfortable truth is that bans tend to work best on children who are already willing to follow the rules. The children most at risk are often the ones most likely to find workarounds, borrow devices, create alternative accounts or simply move to less regulated platforms.

I am not making an argument against action. I am making an argument for the action to go further.

For years, parents have been told that many of the protections they want are technically impossible. We have been told that harmful content cannot be identified. That explicit images cannot be blocked. That meaningful parental controls are unrealistic. The reality is very different.

The technology already exists. At the startup I co-founded, we have built systems that can block explicit content, prevent the sharing of nude images, and give parents meaningful oversight of a child’s digital experience across their entire device, not just one or two apps.

If a startup can build these protections, it is difficult to accept that some of the largest technology companies in the world cannot.

The biggest risk today is not that the government has gone too far. It is that parents are given the impression that the problem has now been solved.

It has not. Legislation will take time. Enforcement will take time. Legal challenges will take time. Meanwhile, millions of children will continue using smartphones every day. Parents need help now, not several years from now.

A social media ban may be part of the answer. But the long-term solution is technology that is designed to protect children from harm wherever that harm appears, not just on a list of banned apps.

The good news is that we do not need to invent that technology. We simply need to use it.

George Bevis is the co-founder of online child safety app Safetymode.com and founder of Tide.

Donald Trump has accused Benjamin Netanyahu of having “no fucking judgment” as he launched another foul-mouthed attack on the Israeli prime minister.

The US president said an Israel’s attack on Beirut on Sunday had “pissed me off very much”.

He was speaking amid fears that the Israeli strikes could scupper a deal to end the Iran war at the last minute.

Speaking to Axios, Trump insisted the bombing had only delayed the agreement “by a few hours” and that it was still due to be signed on Sunday.

Trump said: “Why did Bibi have to do a fucking attack? I was so pissed off. I let him know. He has no fucking judgement. I let him know that.”

Lebanese officials said three people had been killed in Sunday’s attack, which Israel said was on a command centre run by the Iran-backed terror group Hezbollah.

The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) said it was in retaliation for “Hezbollah’s launch of aerial targets toward Israeli territory” earlier on Sunday.

The latest Trump-Netanyahu spat comes less than a fortnight after the president reportedly called the Israeli leader “fucking crazy” in a phone call.

It came after Israel resumed its aerial bombardment of Lebanon.

A source told Axios that Trump told Netanyahu: “You’re fucking crazy. You’d be in prison if it weren’t for me. I’m saving your ass. Everybody hates you now. Everybody hates Israel because of this.”

Another source said Trump was “pissed” on the phone call and at one point shouted at Netanyahu: “What the fuck are you doing?”

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The Italian beach of Punta Molentis in Villasimìus has introduced a controversial new ban on beach umbrellas for some.

The sandy spot, located on Sardinia’s South-East coast, costs €10 (£8.64, as of the time of writing) to enter.

Once you’re in, only people older than 65 or with a child under 10 can pitch a beach umbrella at the site – and there’s a max limit of one per eligible person or group, The Guardian reports.

It comes alongside a slew of other changes which are designed to protect the area’s ecosystem.

In 2025, the site faced wildfires that left cars burnt out and forced beachgoers to flee by boat, per the BBC.

“The ecosystem of Punta Molentis is among the most precious in our territory, but also among the most fragile,” the council explained.

“The fires of 2025 and exceptional marine weather events have reduced the capacity of the sandy shore and put habitat and biodiversity to a severe test.

“Because of this, it is necessary to limit human impact and ensure the protection of this heritage for future generations.”

As a result of the disaster and the risk for future fires, authorities have decided to limit the number of beach visitors to 150 at a time (pre-booking is needed to secure a spot). You can’t park more than 70 cars a day nearby, either.

Opening hours run from 8am-9pm, and you aren’t allowed to leave towels, umbrellas, tents, or chairs overnight.

The official notice also asks people to check the beach’s fire risk level before visiting, too.

Under the governing body’s Facebook post addressing these changes, one person wrote: “I advise the mayor and the entire council that voted for this outrage to visit a dermatologist to learn about the risks of skin cancer to which they are exposing us to profit from those who want to enjoy the sea at Punta Molentis”.

Another commented, “If [we] pay 20 euros for entry and parking, who are you to ban umbrellas?”

And on a separate post on the same page, yet another site user said: “To protect the beach, the only solution is to close it and make it inaccessible for a few years, to allow flora and fauna to reclaim their place. This is just a sneaky way to hand it over to the rich”.

They joked, “Do we need a black market to rent out children and the elderly?”