My grandmother never stepped foot in a swimming pool. The closest she ever came was the afternoon I held my phone in front of her face, tilting the tiny glowing screen so she could see her great-granddaughters slicing through bright blue water at a swim meet. They were still little then, just beginning to race. Her eyes were tired but sharp.

“Shana,” she said, squinting at the screen, “what is that girl doing in that water?!” There was real fear in her voice; the kind that doesn’t come from ignorance, but from history.

“She’s racing, Grandma,” I told her. “That’s Zuri. Don’t worry – she’s safe.”

She leaned closer, watching those small arms churn. “Do they like swimming?”

She nodded slowly, and looked on. “I never did learn to swim, baby. Never even been in a pool.” I squeezed her hand. “I know. But we aim to change all that with Zuri and Amara.”

What I didn’t say was that this wasn’t just about safety. It was about rewriting something.

My grandmother never learned to swim, but my mother did. In her childhood, sparkling public pools were not invitations. They were exclusions.

During segregation, Black families had been barred from entry. When desegregation came, many towns chose to close pools rather than integrate them. Access to water – something so innocent and basic – became a quiet marker of who belonged.

The effects are still visible today. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Black Americans drown at rates about 1.5 times higher than white Americans, and the disparity is especially stark for children. In swimming pools, Black children ages 10–14 drown at rates 7.6 times higher than white children. Public health researchers have linked these disparities in part to generations of unequal access to pools and swim instruction.

But in the late ’70s, my mama stepped into the water anyway. Two months after she gave birth to me – the first of her seven children – she signed up for swim lessons. If she learned, her children would not inherit fear as instinct.

When we were little, she made sure every one of us took lessons. We grew up in Charleston, where sometimes it feels like there is more water than land. Rivers stretch wide. Marshes wind through neighbourhoods. The ocean is never far. Every summer, we went to W.L. Stephens pool. The smell of chlorine. The echo of whistles. The sting of sun on wet shoulders.

Each year, we grew stronger. My brother and I kept up our lessons into high school – we were not racers, but continued swim education for safety: yardage, endurance, treading water until our legs shook. In our family, swimming was non-negotiable.

But “basic” has not always meant “accessible”. Many of our Black and brown friends didn’t take lessons. They came to the pool, yes, but they stayed close to the sides, where the waves slipped gently into the gutters and onto the deck. My siblings and I could go much farther out – not recklessly, but confidently. The water was our friend, not a stranger.

Years later, I found myself sitting in the bleachers at that very same pool – W.L. Stephens – but this time as a mother. Zuri was seven. It was her first swim meet. She stepped up for the 25-yard freestyle – tiny, serious, goggles slightly crooked. The buzzer sounded. She dove. She touched the wall first.

Her coach ran up to me, wide-eyed: “Looks like her time was one of the fastest in the state for her age group.”

One of the fastest in the state. In the same pool where I learned to tread water. In the same water my mother insisted we master. I felt the past and future colliding in chlorinated air.

What I did not expect was that Zuri would fall in love with racing. At eight, she swam anchor at the 8 & Under State Championships. Her team was seeded low. The role of anchor, or the last team member to swim in a relay, is often filled by the fastest or most experienced swimmer. She dove and touched first. The tiny swimmers took first in the state.

Years later, at her final Age Group State Championship, she stood on the blocks again as anchor. Same pool, but she was older, stronger. The natatorium hummed. The starter beeped. She dove with quiet poise and remarkable strength. I didn’t breathe. When she touched the wall, the scoreboard flashed: 24.91.

Under 25. On a relay. At 14 years old.

Three other girls had already poured everything into that water before she dove in. Four bodies. One finish. They broke their team record and placed third in the state – less than a second from first.

I covered my mouth before I realised I was crying. It was not just her time. It was the inheritance, interrupted.

There were not many girls who looked like her in that heat. USA Swimming reports roughly 2% of its membership is Black. Two percent. Better than my grandmother’s day. Better than my mother’s. Still small enough to notice.

I do not let Zuri carry that weight. From me, she gets steadiness. Her dream is hers.

My grandmother passed away in March 2024. She never stepped into a pool. But she empowered the next three generations to step forward anyway.

In just four generations, a grandmother was barred from entry, a mother stepped in anyway and a daughter made swimming non-negotiable. Now a great-granddaughter anchors relays and breaks swimming records with her teammates. Four generations of unconditional love. Lifetimes of growth and development.

I miss my grandmother. But she saw the beginning of this change, and that matters more than I can fully explain. Water once represented exclusion. Now, in our family, it represents possibility. And that feels like victory.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.

After an especially busy awards season that’s already gifted us all kinds of memorable moments, it’s time for the mother of them all, the Oscars.

Over the last 98 years, the annual Academy Awards ceremony has been the site of countless iconic scenes – although not every instance of the Oscars making headlines has been for the reasons organisers might have hoped for.

As we gear up for the 2026 ceremony, here are just some of the highs and lows that have defined the Oscars over the last century…

For those who were living under a rock in 2022, here’s what went down at that year’s Oscars.

Comedian Chris Rock presented one of the night’s big awards, during which he made an impromptu joke about Jada Pinkett Smith’s buzzcut after spotting her in the audience, comparing her to “GI Jane”.

Jada had previously spoken about her experiences of living with alopecia, which inspired her to shave her head.

Unimpressed with the comic’s remarks, Jada’s husband Will Smith walked up to the comedian and slapped him in the middle of the broadcast, urging Chris to “keep my wife’s name out of your fucking mouth” upon returning to his seat.

What ensued was months of unescapable media furore and discourse, and although Will won his first ever Oscar just a few moments after the slap for his performance in the film King Richard, he eventually made the decision to resign from the Film Academy, and was later banned from the ceremony for a decade.

During the live broadcast in 2014, HuffPost fave John Travolta was recruited to welcome Frozen star Idina Menzel to the stage, so she could perform her character’s signature tune Let It Go.

Unfortunately, due to John’s apparent struggles reading from an autocue, he instead introduced “the wickedly talented, one and only Adele Dazeem” – a moment he’s still struggling to live down more than a decade later.

In a moment that saw the whole world holding its breath in unison, Jennifer Lawrence took a tumble as she went to accept her Best Actress prize, for her performance in Silver Linings Playbook.

After getting a standing ovation, she joked: “You guys are just standing up ’cos you feel bad that I fell, which is embarrassing, but thank you.”

A year later, Jennifer returned to the Oscars, where she was nominated again, this time for her role in American Hustle.

While she didn’t pull off the Oscars double, she did pull off the falling-over-at-the-Oscars double on the red carpet as she made her way into the event, which… is still something.

The story goes that Joan Crawford wasn’t feeling very well before the Oscars in 1946 and, perhaps sensing that she wasn’t going to win her category, decided to forego attending entirely.

Imagine her surprise, then, when she heard her name being read out as the Best Actress recipient on the radio for her performance in Mildred Pierce.

What followed was an impromptu press conference from the screen icon’s bed, where she was presented with her awards statuette in person (in full beat, naturally).

“You like me, you really, really like me,” is an oft-quoted awards show line, but as it turns out, that’s not what Sally Field actually said.

“I want to say thank you to you,” she told the audience at the 1985 Oscars. “I haven’t had an orthodox career, and I’ve wanted more than anything to have your respect.

“The first time [I won an Oscar], I didn’t feel it. But this time I feel it. And I can’t deny the fact that you like me! Right now! You like me!”

What’s also often overlooked is the fact she did actually make the crowd laugh along with her speech, even if audiences at home were seemingly less impressed.

After appearing in around 20 films, Gwyneth finally picked up an Oscar in 1999, for her performance in Shakespeare In Love, and struggled to get her words out through her tears.

Interestingly, this would prove to be Gwyneth’s only Academy Award nomination (so far!), but at least she managed to get the Oscar on her first try.

It’s fair to say Olivia Colman had not been expecting to beat her peers in the Best Actress category that year, judging from that acceptance speech – which showcased all of her signature charm and a fan-girl moment over Lady Gaga.

The 1989 Academy Awards went down in the history books for cooking up a chaotic opening number that felt like a bit of a fever dream. The performance saw Rob Lowe duetting with Snow White, as well as featuring appearances from stars as varied as Lily Tomlin and Vincent Price.

Without a host, the routine served in place of an opening monologue, but it went down so badly it would be a full 30 years before the Oscars would go ahead without a host.

After Miss Piggy warmed up the crowd (seriously, what an intro), there wasn’t a dry eye in the house when Kermit The Frog performed Rainbow Connection in 1980.

The Muppet Movie’s opening number had been nominated for Best Original Song, but lost out to It Goes Like It Goes from Norma Rae, a decision which was rubbished by many critics at the time.

Eventually, Kermit and co did finally win an Oscar, although it took more than 40 years, when Man Or Muppet scooped Best Original Song in 2011.

It was the performance the world had been waiting for when Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga finally sang Shallow from the A Star Is Born soundtrack together.

The pair had actually only performed the track live together once prior to the Oscars (when Bradley was a surprise guest at one of Gaga’s Las Vegas shows), but you wouldn’t know that from the sheer chemistry between the two of them while they sang to one another.

Back in 2000, Angelina won her first Oscar for her role in the film adaptation of Girl, Interrupted.

Her win was somewhat overshadowed on the night by her red carpet appearance with brother James Haven, who she kissed on the lips and declared she was “so in love with”.

Years later, she admitted she was “disappointed” with the “circus” that surrounded the incident, explaining that she and James had always relied on one another as the children of divorced parents.

Yeah, Ryan Seacrest really wasn’t loving this, was he?

Gone With The Wind star Hattie McDaniel’s Best Supporting Actress win at the 12th Academy Awards was a particularly important one, as she became the first African American performer to take home an Oscar.

While this is often referred to as a progressive moment in Oscars history, it should be noted that Hattie’s win came at a time when segregation was still in place. This meant she was not permitted to sit with her Gone With The Wind co-stars during the ceremony, with film producer David O. Selznick having to call in a favour for her to be allowed to attend at all.

Precious actor Mo’nique paid homage to Hattie McDaniel when she picked up the same award 70 years later, sporting a similar ensemble to the Gone With The Wind star.

“This moment is so much bigger than me,” Halle Berry began in her acceptance speech, before listing off the names of the Black women in the acting industry who had come before her, including Dorothy Dandridge, Lena Horne, Diahann Carroll, as well as her peers, Jada Pinkett, Angela Bassett and Vivica Fox.

She said she hoped her win might represent “a chance” for “every nameless, faceless woman of colour”.

Halle’s victory came 39 years after Sidney Poitier became the first Black winner in the Best Actor category. His successors have included Forest Whitaker, Jamie Foxx and Denzel Washington.

Sadly, the Monster’s Ball star remains in 2026 the only Black woman to have been been given the Best Actress title, lamenting 15 years later that she felt her win “meant nothing”, as so little had changed in the time that followed.

In 2023, Michelle Yeoh became only the second woman of colour in history to receive the Best Actress award – which was poignantly presented to her by its past recipient, Halle herself.

The Everything Everywhere All At Once star made history as the first Asian performer to win the award, and enthused during her speech: “For all the little boys and girls who look like me watching tonight, this is a beacon of hope and possibilities. It’s proof – dream big, and dreams do come true.”

“And ladies, don’t let anybody tell you you are ever past your prime,” she added. “Never give up.”

Kathryn’s efforts at the helm of The Hurt Locker, which also landed Best Picture that year, made her the only woman to have won in the Best Director category at that time.

In the years that have followed, only six more women – Greta Gerwig, Chloé Zhao, Emerald Fennell, Jane Campion, Justine Triet and Coralie Fargeat – have been nominated in this category.

Chloé became the second woman, and first woman of colour, to accept the accolade in 2021, while Jane became the third the following year.

Ahead of this year’s ceremony, Chloé is in the running once again for her work as the director of Hamnet.

Marlon Brando’s win for The Godfather was, without doubt, a Big Deal, so when he refused to show up to collect his award, it raised a lot of eyebrows.

Instead, the acting legend had Native American performer Sacheen Littlefeather collect the award on his behalf, explaining that he wasn’t present in protest of Hollywood’s portrayal of Native Americans on the big screen.

Who could forget him chucking his chewing gum in his partner’s direction on his way up to the stage, too?

Well, she was never going to pass by unnoticed, was she?

Björk was nominated for an Oscar in 2001, for her contribution to the Dancer In The Dark soundtrack.

As she made her way into the event that year, the Hyper-Ballad singer made headlines for her swan-inspired dress, leaning into her attire by dropping eggs along the red carpet.

We love when a star really knows how to turn heads, and that’s exactly what Pose actor Billy Porter did on the red carpet in 2019.

On the subject of his much-discussed tuxedo dress, Billy told Vogue that year: “We wanted to play between the masculine and the feminine. This look was interesting because it’s not drag. I’m not a drag queen, I’m a man in a dress.

“My aunt Dorothy used to always say, ‘Dress for the job you want, not the job you have.’ That’s why I look good every time I leave the house. I want to run shit. From this [Oscars] moment, I want people to understand that you don’t have to understand or even agree with other people’s authenticity or truths, but we must all respect each other.

“People are going to be really uncomfortable with my Black ass in a ball gown—but it’s not anybody’s business but mine.”

In hindsight, the reaction to Angelina Jolie’s so-called “leg-bomb” might have been a little OTT.

Back in 2012, though, her errant right leg really felt like a moment, inspiring countless memes in those halcyon early days of Twitter (as it was still known in those days).

There’s Angelina again, this time in a huge selfie with a star-studded cast including Meryl Streep, Lupita Nyong’o and Bradley Cooper (alongside some somewhat more regrettable inclusions).

The photo – shared on host Ellen Degeneres’ Twitter page – quickly broke records as the most retweeted image in the site’s history, beating an image previously shared by then-President Barack Obama.

Remember, even the word “selfie” was quite a new thing back in 2014, let alone the act of taking a group shot like this, so while the furore around this photo might seem a bit silly almost a decade later, we promise it genuinely was a big deal at the time.

In 2001, this unexpected shocker was voted the “most memorable” moment in Oscars history.

We’re particularly fond of host David Niven’s quick-thinking response, as he declared: “The only laugh that man will ever get in his life is by stripping off and showing his shortcomings.”

British singer-songwriter Sam Smith made a huge blunder during their Academy Awards acceptance speech, erroneously describing themself as the “first openly gay man to win an Oscar” (they came out as non-binary a few years later).

Sam’s comments sparked a huge backlash, particularly from members of the LGBTQ+ community, including past Oscar-winning screenwriter Dustin Lance Black.

Many at the time called for the star to learn their LGBTQ+ history before speaking out on such a public platform – and to Sam’s credit, they’ve since proved they have done their homework on queer trailblazers.

No one could quite agree back in 2023 whether Hugh Grant was being outwardly rude or just a bit awkward when this exchange with Ashley Graham on the red carpet went viral.

Hugh did sort of make up for it during the ceremony, though, when he had the room howling by comparing his face to a “scrotum” while presenting an award with one-time co-star Andie MacDowell.

Many picked up on the fact that when presenting Casey Affleck with his Oscar in 2017, Brie Larson did not applaud for the actor, which many took as a response to the accusations of workplace sexual harassment that he’d faced years earlier.

She later told Vanity Fair: “I think that whatever it was that I did onstage kind of spoke for itself. I’ve said all that I have to say on that topic.”

Spoiler alert: It wasn’t La La Land.

Fancy watching it again? Oh, go on then…

This year’s awards season has already been full of surprises and headline-grabbing moments, and it’s now time to get ready for the big one.

Yes, the 2026 Oscars are mere hours away, with some of the biggest names in Hollywood getting ready for Sunday night’s ceremony.

Ryan Coogler’s Sinners is leading the way this year with a record-breaking whopping 16 nominations, the most of any movie in history.

These include acting nods for cast members Michael B Jordan, Wunmi Mosaku and Delroy Lindo, as well as recognition in the the Best Picture, Best Director and – newly-added for 2026 – Best Casting categories.

Hot on its heels is One Battle After Another with a hefty 13 nods, while Sentimental Value, Hamnet, Frankenstein and Marty Supreme are among the films with the most Oscars recognition in 2026.

The full list of nominees is as follows…

Rose Byrne (If I Had Legs I’d Kick You)

Kate Hudson (Song Sung Blue)

Renata Reinsve (Sentimental Value)

Timothée Chalamet (Marty Supreme)

Leonardo DiCaprio (One Battle After Another)

Michael B Jordan (Sinners)

Wagner Moura (The Secret Agent)

Elle Fanning (Sentimental Value)

Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas (Sentimental Value)

Amy Madigan Weapons (Weapons)

Teyana Taylor (One Battle After Another)

Benicio Del Toro (One Battle After Another)

Jacob Elordi (Frankenstein)

Sean Penn (One Battle After Another)

Stellan Skarsgård (Sentimental Value)

Josh Safdie (Marty Supreme)

Paul Thomas Anderson (One Battle After Another)

Joachim Trier (Sentimental Value)

Golden (KPop Demon Hunters)

Sweet Dreams Of Joy (Viva Verdi!)

Train Dreams (Train Dreams)

Best Makeup And Hairstyling

Little Amélie Or The Character Of Rain

Best International Feature

The Secret Agent (Brazil)

It Was Just An Accident (France)

Sentimental Value (Norway)

The Voice Of Hind Rajab (Tunisia)

Come See Me In The Good Light

Best Documentary Short Film

Armed Only With A Camera: The Life And Death Of Brent Renaud

Children No More: Were And Are Gone

Best Live-Action Short Film

Jane Austen’s Period Drama

Two People Exchanging Saliva

The Girl Who Cried Pearls

The 2026 Oscars will air on ITV1 on Sunday night.

Energy security secretary Ed Miliband has refused to outline any clear details about potential support if bills start to rise.

But the senior minister told broadcasters that “if it’s necessary to intervene we will”, depending on how long Donald Trump’s war in Iran rumbles on for.

He insisted his Labour government would not let the energy bills reach £3,500 a year on average again, a shocking high seen during Liz Truss’s time in government.

The former Tory prime minister then spent taxpayers’ money to cap it at £2,500 a year to mitigate the effects of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and a rise in global wholesale gas prices.

It remains unclear if the current Labour government would offer the same universal support were the Iran conflict to continue.

The war in the Middle East has already pushed the cost of oil to over $100 a barrel as the Iranian regime has effectively closed one of the world’s most important shipping lanes, the Strait of Hormuz.

Bills are expected to come down in the short-term because the energy price cap has already been set for April through to July.

However, regulator Ofgem may end up hiking them after that to reflect the turbulence around oil pricing.

Miliband told the BBC’s Laura Kuenssberg: “We took action in the Budget to cut bills because we know the cost of living crisis is the number one issue facing the British people.”

He continued: “We are preparing for all eventualities. It’s right we do that preparatory work, learning the lessons of the last crisis when Russia invaded Ukraine and – the best I can say, Laura – is if it’s necessary to intervene, we will.

“As the regulator said, we don’t know what will happen to the energy price cap in July.”

Miliband did meet with energy firms this week over how the government could help with bills.

The government is trying to discourage fuel retailers from hiking prices, without directly responding to markets.

Chancellor Rachel Reeves said earlier this week: “We are working on different ways to protect people, including more targeted support.”

A few weeks before moving out of my parents’ house for college, I stumbled upon a grainy Polaroid of my mom in her 20s. I stared, dumbfounded, as two questions formed in my mind.

First, who was this person? And second – why didn’t I know her?

The mum I knew threatened to divorce my dad frequently and required me to wear camisoles under shirts to cover my stomach. We fought often about when I could hang out with friends, and where, and for how long. She also stayed meticulously up to date on my life by insisting I catalog every minute of it in a ritual I called Tell Me About Your Day. It went like this:

“So, tell me about your day. What happened in first period? Did you talk to Mr. Gallaher like I asked you to? What about the book report, did you turn it in? OK. What did you do in second period? Nothing? Come on, what topic are you learning? Did they assign homework? OK, I want to print the assignment description.”

As I grew older, this questioning felt like endless nagging at the end of a long day. I began approaching the conversations like interrogations to be endured. I didn’t appreciate that my mum wanted to be involved in my life. Instead, I saw Tell Me About Your Day as part of a wider pattern in which she tried to control me.

For instance, in middle school, when my mum overheard my friends’ parents using my chosen nickname, Jackie, she yelled, “Don’t call her that!” and lectured them on why the name was “trashy”.

Similarly, she disapproved when I wore makeup or anything form-fitting. Being told to cover up made me feel uncomfortable in my body and ostracised from peers who wore what they wanted. I began to rebel by changing into prohibited outfits at school.

As an adult, I recognise how my mum’s role as the primary authority in our home made it easier to reduce her to a rigid micromanager. While my dad travelled for work, my mum was constantly around. The sheer amount of time she spent with me made her the parent who enforced rules and also the parent most likely to annoy me.

But this awareness did not come until later. Back then, I simply complained, until one day, when I was 16, I decided that I wouldn’t do Tell Me About Your Day anymore. No. The first time I refused to describe my day, the word thudded like a heavy book on a table. My mum protested for a while before she lost track of how many summaries I owed her and focused on my siblings.

From then on, I wielded the power of a no. When my mum tried to convince my teenage siblings and me to read children’s books with her — no. When she begged us to create Pinterest crafts for holidays and birthdays well into adulthood — no. The knowledge that she couldn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to do was freeing.

However, exercising this right came at a price: I was now an outsider in my own family. Passing through our kitchen, I’d catch glimpses of my brother, sister, and mom cuddled together on our couch watching a travel documentary. I’d feel a dull longing for intimacy, but after a series of my nos, she had stopped asking me to join them.

I felt as if I were peering at a misty landscape from a distance, wishing to cross a lake to reach the shore yet knowing I had no oars to paddle. I missed being involved in my family landscape, but by that point, I had been moored for so long that I was afraid to disturb the water.

This distancing didn’t help me add to my meagre knowledge of my mum’s pre-kids life. Ironically, although she noted every minute detail of my life, my mum rarely shared stories about her own childhood or young adulthood.

Her reticence was overcome only by her annual remarks about the anniversaries of her parents’ deaths, and she never mentioned her sister, whom I haven’t seen in over a decade, or her brother, whom I’ve never met. And every time I commented on what seemed like a less-than-perfect marriage to my dad, she changed the subject. My mum protected these topics with her own implicit nos – shrugging, evasive language, silence.

So, when I found the photo of her at my age, looking carefree and lovestruck, it felt like seeing a flash of light rebound off a mirror. In the image, my dad grins at my mum through round glasses, and she reclines in a large leather chair, her shoulders scrunched up in laughter as if she and my dad are sharing a hilarious inside joke. She’s even wearing a crop top!

I had to know more to make sense of it. I wanted to show the photo to everyone and beg for more information, but I knew my dad, a private person, would be upset if the picture were shared. Instead, I asked him questions under the guise of a college assignment, and his answers shocked me. I learned that my mum worked in Finland, frequented Chicago’s jazz clubs with my dad, and loved living in Colorado. Listening to my dad talk, I imagined my mum as an easygoing voyager, exploring the world and carving out her place in it.

After months of building the courage to talk to my mum directly, I discovered the details of how she had watched both her parents die, on her own. She called 911 when her dad collapsed from a heart attack, but the ambulance arrived too late. She was 17. Years later, one August, she took a semester off grad school to care for her ailing mother. By Christmas, cancer had taken my mum’s only remaining parent.

With these revelations, suddenly I saw my mum as a complex woman who had survived unthinkable trauma, and I better understood her desire to learn everything about my life. When both of your parents are stripped away with little warning, of course you cling to the people you have left. I thought about all the ways my mum expressed love that I had disregarded, blinded by teenage frustration.

At 23, I feel guilty about distancing myself from her. With her parents dead, she stands on a shore of her own with no way to paddle closer to them except by imperfect remembrance. I don’t want to stand on that untraversable shore any earlier than necessary. And when the time does come, I want to remember more than just my mum’s rules. I want to know real stuff – her dreams, the places she’s lived, the people she’s loved, and the sacrifices she made.

The first step required closing the distance between me and my mum. Now that I’ve grown up and can dress however I want and go by any nickname I like, I find myself reaching for my phone to call her more. I followed my sister’s lead and started intentionally scheduling one-on-one time with my mum to go on bike rides or explore my Pittsburgh hometown.

Last April, my mum visited me in New York. At a fancy restaurant, I said, “So many weddings must happen here.”

My mum’s face wrinkled as she shared that her mother used to work as a bridal consultant helping women find wedding dresses. It was another flash of unexpected learning, and I listened raptly, feeling like I was with the woman in the photograph. Maybe that woman was always there; I just hadn’t noticed.

I wonder now how much of my limited knowledge of my mum’s past results from my lack of asking. Who was she? Who might she still become? How has saying no precluded the chance of knowing her more deeply?

These are much more difficult questions than my mum’s queries about homework. These questions require an openness between us that may be painful.

They emerge from the fundamentally unequal relationship between parents and children: while parents witness every stage of their children’s lives from prenatal growth to adulthood, children know their parents only as caregivers.

For many of us, this means we wake up one day and realise that we don’t know the people they are outside of parenthood. But there’s so much to discover.

I’ve apologised to my mum for some things in the past; she’s done the same, and now our relationship is stronger than ever. (The main thing we fight over is when I write about her – sorry, Mom).

Mostly, I’m thankful I’m no longer standing on that impassable shore, peering at my mum through the mist. I haven’t asked all the hard questions yet, but I’m proud that I’ve grabbed an oar and rowed closer to her.

This piece was previously published on HuffPost and running again as part of HuffPost Personal’s “Best Of” series.

Jacqueline LeKachman is a New York-based freelance writer and English teacher who has contributed to The Washington Post, WIRED, Business Insider, and Shondaland. She is writing a book about complex family dynamics and can be found on Twitter @JacquelineLeKa.

Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for here and send us a pitch at pitch@huffpost.com.

Ahh, the mental load. That never-ending list of to-dos, don’t forgets and keeping on top of household jobs that makes your brain feel like it’s going to explode on a daily basis. (Just me?)

A survey of 1,000 women in the UK has revealed 97% of mothers say they are responsible for planning, remembering and managing both work and home life; with only 12% saying their household responsibilities are shared equally.

Not only that, but two in five mothers – 44%, to be exact – say the mental load they carry isn’t recognised by others, according to the poll by neurotechnology company Parasym.

Most (83%) say they think about responsibilities at least once a day, even when they should be resting, and 15% can simply never switch off from it.

More than three-quarters (77%) report poor sleep as a result of the stress, with two-thirds also sharing they struggle with anxiety or racing thoughts (68%), fatigue (66%) and finding it difficult to switch off (66%).

“Society has always relied on this invisible labour for the smooth running of households’ daily life,” says Dr Elisabetta Burchi, head of research at Parasym.

But she warned by not recognising mothers as “the family’s usual cognitive labourer, this may only add further stress, increasing feelings of frustration, resentment or burnout”.

UCLA Health describes the mental load as the “behind-the-scenes, cognitive and emotional work needed to manage a household”.

Studies have found mums take on 71% of all household mental load tasks (in comparison to dads, who take on 45%), ranging from planning meals and arranging activities to managing household finances.

But the more you shoulder, the more likely it is your nervous system will begin to buckle under the constant strain.

The constant cognitive effort of remembering, organising and planning can keep the autonomic nervous system in a state of prolonged activation, said Dr Burchi.

When the brain is constantly anticipating the next task, deadline or responsibility, it never fully signals that it is safe to switch off, meaning it’s harder for the body to enter a restful state.

Over time, this places the nervous system under strain, leading to dysregulation, she suggested.

Cue those symptoms many burnt out parents might be familiar with: fatigue, sleep disruption, anxiety, hormonal disruption, IBS and headaches.

The vagus nerve is a key regulator of the body’s calming system and plays a critical role in managing stress, mood, cognitive function and inflammation. When vagal tone is low, resilience drops. When it’s supported, the body is better able to return to a state of balance.

You can enhance vagal tone through practices such as deep breathing, meditation, yoga, regular exercise, and finding social connection, as well as through vagus nerve stimulation (VNS), which uses electrical impulses to activate the vagus nerve.

Clear communication and sitting down to properly hash out who does what in the household (to ensure a fair distribution of the load) is also key to helping prevent resentment from building and burnout from taking hold.

And for anyone reading this who isn’t shouldering the majority of household tasks, perhaps a gentle conversation about how you plan to do more to help could ease the burden this Mother’s Day – and beyond.

Expert comment provided by Stuart Gillies, chef-owner for Number Eight, Sevenoaks and Bank House, Chislehurst, and Zoe Gill, development chef at Brakes Foodservices.

The other day, while I was eating okonimiyaki, I thought, “This is probably the best meal you can make with a head of cabbage”.

Which made me wonder – what about other ingredients?

So, this week, we asked chefs Stuart Gillies, chef-owner for Number Eight, Sevenoaks and Bank House, Chislehurst, and Zoe Gill, development chef at Brakes Foodservices, for the best meal they can think of with this week’s pick: leeks.

Leeks are in season this month, so to enjoy them at the peak of their flavour, Gillies doesn’t mess around too much with the ingredient.

″’At home we love a French family classic; poached leeks, wrapped in thin smoked cooked ham slices, laid in a gratin dish and topped with cheese sauce, grated cheddar and baked in the oven,” he explained.

Sometimes called poireaux au gratin, the recipe is a favourite of chef Anthony Bar, too.

As Gillies explained, it’s “Super easy for anyone to make and incredibly satisfying.”

“Leeks are a brilliant ingredient for a risotto because they can melt easily into the arborio rice, offering a delicate, subtle flavour that doesn’t overpower the dish,” the chef told HuffPost UK.

Those who’ve tried the combination seem to agree: a BBC Good Food recipe has earned nothing but five-star reviews.

And because it complements “the likes of peas, asparagus, as well as courgette, red pepper and aubergine,” the cook loveds to make it in a “Mediterranean-vegetable risotto, topped with a light fish, such as monkfish.”

She added, “The meaty texture holds up against the creaminess of rice and offers a great source of protein”.