Altadena, CA. Eleven Months Later, the Fire Is Out but the Fallout Isn’t Altadena, CA. Nearly a year after the Eaton Fire carved its way through the foothills, the town is still living in its shadow. Eleven months sounds like enough time for life to snap back into place, but for many families, the calendar doesn’t match reality. People are still scattered across borrowed bedrooms, spare couches, and motel rooms that were never meant to be home. Entire neighborhoods feel like they’re holding their breath. The Displacement That Doesn’t End For families who lost everything, the upheaval didn’t stop when the flames died. Many couldn’t afford to stay nearby, so they landed wherever rent was manageable. Kids who once walked to school with the same group of friends now sit in unfamiliar classrooms miles away. Teachers in Altadena say they still catch themselves expecting to see certain faces, only to remember those families had to move on. Parents describe younger children waking up from nightmares or refusing to sleep alone. Older kids who once breezed through homework now stare at assignments like they’re written in code. Schools are easing expectations so students can feel capable again instead of overwhelmed. These are the quiet, everyday aftershocks, the ones that don’t make headlines but shape lives. The Emotional Static of Survival Adults are carrying their own invisible weight. Some feel constantly on edge, jumping at sirens or the smell of smoke from a backyard grill. Others talk about survivor’s guilt, the strange, heavy feeling that comes from being the one house left standing on a block of ashes. Even those who didn’t lose their homes lost their sense of safety. And then there’s the paperwork. Insurance claims, contractor bids, debris removal, deadlines that don’t care whether you slept last night. People describe trying to make major financial decisions while feeling like their brains are full of static. Concentration slips. Passwords vanish. Simple tasks feel like wading through mud. Kids Feel It Differently, and Often Later Research shows that wildfire survivors can experience high rates of trauma symptoms in the months after a disaster, and kids often feel the effects in delayed waves. Some regress, bedwetting, tantrums, clinginess. Others withdraw. Teens who once seemed unshakeable suddenly struggle with focus, motivation, or irritability. Parents say the hardest part is not knowing what’s “normal” anymore. Is it a phase? A reaction? A warning sign? In a community where everyone is stretched thin, even asking those questions can feel exhausting. The Yearly Return of Fire Season Wildfire trauma has a cruel twist: it comes with a built‑in reminder. Fire season returns every year, and with it comes a rising tide of anxiety. A hot, dry wind can send people spiraling. The smell of smoke, even from a distant brush burn, can trigger panic. Some residents say they start packing go‑bags in July, just in case. Even the rebuilding process can sting. Watching neighbors put up new walls and new roofs is hopeful, but it also highlights who’s still stuck in limbo. Group text threads meant to be supportive sometimes turn into a constant reminder of everything still unresolved. The Community Tries to Rebuild More Than Homes Local organizations are expanding school‑based programs to help kids who are acting out or shutting down. Community groups are hosting support circles, resource fairs, and workshops on navigating insurance and recovery. Neighbors are sharing tools, meals, and rides. People are trying, really trying, to rebuild not just structures, but a sense of belonging. Residents say what they need most is patience, from institutions, from each other, and from themselves. Recovery isn’t linear. It’s messy, uneven, and deeply personal. A Town Changed, Not Broken Altadena will rebuild. It always has. But people here know they won’t be exactly who they were before the fire. Losing a home means losing history, photo albums, keepsakes, and the marks on the wall showing how tall the kids were each year. For children, it can mean losing their entire universe: their school, their neighborhood, their routines. What remains is a community learning how to carry both grief and resilience at the same time. The smoke may be gone, but the emotional landscape is still shifting, still settling, still healing. Ask Uncle Gary / Altadena Fire

All right, question of the day. Mason writes, Uncle Gary, it's cold, it's dark, and my drive to work out is gone. How do you stay on track? Great one. First thing. Don't wait for motivation. Build a rhythm, your body can't ignore. I start with simple pushups. You can do them anywhere. No excuses. Five good reps. That's it. Most days, those five turn into 20, and before you know it, you're in the zone. Pair it with a non-negotiable time. For me, it's right after I brush my teeth in the morning. Habit, not hype, keeps you moving when the weather doesn't help.

Welcome back to Ask Uncle Gary. We've got a question from Nina in Colorado. My door squeaks every time I open it. Any quick fix? You bet. All you need is a little cooking spray. Hit the hinge with it for a second, smooth as butter.

I’ve been spending a lot of time lately asking myself how we decide what’s true. Not in the abstract, but in the everyday moments when you open a browser, type in a question, and get an answer in seconds. What exactly are you trusting in that moment, and why? The answer isn’t simple. Even for people who pride themselves on being curious, educated, and careful thinkers, separating signal from noise has become harder than ever. I’ve noticed that when I look something up, and something feels off, my instinct is to pause. That hesitation isn’t proof the information is false, but it’s a sign it hasn’t earned my confidence yet. And that pause matters. It matters even more now that AI tools are becoming the default sources of information. I use them, and so do millions of others. But here’s the reality: when I ask AI questions I already know the answer to, it gets things right most of the time, but not all the time. Sometimes the answer is incomplete. Sometimes it’s just wrong. That shouldn’t surprise us. These systems don’t reason. They don’t weigh truth. They generate language by pulling patterns from massive amounts of human writing, some careful, some sloppy, some biased. Accuracy isn’t built in. Which is why I’ve made myself a rule: I don’t trust an answer just because it sounds confident. If the information matters, I verify it. Ideally, I want to see the original sources, the raw material, not just a polished summary. It’s like the old days of opening multiple tabs and piecing things together yourself. The process is faster now, but the responsibility is the same. For me, this all comes down to a commitment to truth. That commitment shapes how I read, how I write, and how I speak. I fact-check. I cross-check. I ask whether my own biases are nudging me toward answers I already want to believe. That kind of self-awareness isn’t comfortable, but it’s necessary on the internet. Over time, I’ve built up a set of “caution flags.” They’re not automatic deal-breakers, just reminders to slow down and look closer. Take sources, for example. Information tied to universities or research centers usually carries more weight. Not perfection, but a higher bar. When the source is less formal, I don’t dismiss it outright; I just tread carefully. The same goes for industries defending themselves. Having skin in the game doesn’t mean someone is lying, but it does mean I listen with sharper ears. History is full of examples, tobacco being the obvious one, where self-interest bent the truth. Podcasts are another minefield. Some hosts are brilliant interviewers who challenge claims and dig deeper. Others are more about entertainment than examination. If a bold idea gets tossed around and nobody in the room has the expertise to test it, that’s a yellow flag. Opinions are everywhere online, and they deserve scrutiny. If a source is telling me how to feel instead of giving me the facts, I slow down. Perspectives are fine, but I want to know whether I’m being handed raw material to think with, or a conclusion I’m expected to adopt. The problem is that opinions often come bundled with selective evidence. You might agree with the conclusion, but you don’t see what was left out. I’ve always believed opinions are healthiest when they’re built on facts you’ve examined yourself. Context matters too. Clips and fragments are easy to consume, but they can distort meaning. If something important is being shared in a snippet, the responsible move is to find the full source. It takes more effort, but accuracy usually lives there. Science brings its own challenges. On the cutting edge, uncertainty is normal. One study can spark interest, but until it’s replicated, it’s provisional. That’s not a flaw, it’s the process. Trouble starts when early findings are treated as settled fact, or when data gets cherry-picked to fit a narrative. Vaccine research history is a clear example. Conspiratorial thinking is another red flag. Real conspiracies have existed, sure, but the structure of conspiracy claims is predictable: a conclusion first, then selective evidence to prop it up, with anything contradictory dismissed as fake or suppressed. At that point, truth becomes unreachable. I’m equally cautious with claims that “mainstream” knowledge is inherently corrupt. New ideas don’t topple old ones by declaring war; they earn their place through evidence, replication, and peer review. That’s how science and progress have always worked. Broad generalizations about entire groups, whether ethnic, social, or professional, are another warning sign. Reducing complex communities into villains is lazy and corrosive. It’s a caricature, not understanding. And finally, extraordinary claims demand extraordinary proof. If someone says they’ve invented a device that will upend an entire industry, or that they alone hold world-changing knowledge, the burden of evidence is enormous. Eyewitness accounts and shaky footage don’t cut it. At the end of the day, it all circles back to the same principle: truth takes work. There are no shortcuts. Skepticism isn’t cynicism, it’s discipline. And in a world drowning in information, that discipline might be the most valuable skill an individual has.

AND WHY THAT SHOULD MATTER TO YOU. Every once in a while, science drops a truth bomb so big it rattles the bones of everything we thought we knew. Here's one of them. The universe is not locally real. A Nobel Prize confirmed statement. Not a poet. Not a guru. Not a barefoot monk on a mountain. A physicist. For thousands of years, mystics have been whispering (and sometimes shouting) that separation is an illusion.  Now science, slowly, reluctantly, is starting to nod its head and say, “Yeah… looks like they were onto something.” Today, I want to break down three Nobel Prize-winning breakthroughs and how they quietly point to non-duality. These discoveries don’t just crack the materialist worldview; they kick the door off its hinges. Because once the observer and the observed stop being separate, everything changes. Let’s start with the big one. 2022: The Nobel Prize That Blew Up “Local Reality.” In 2022, Alain Aspect, John Clauser, and Anton Zeilinger won the Nobel Prize in Physics for their experiments with quantum entanglement. These weren’t cute science-fair projects. These were the experiments that forced the scientific world to admit: Local realism is dead. Local realism =“Things exist on their own, separate from everything else, and only their immediate environment affects them.” Quantum mechanics said, “Absolutely not.” First: Locality collapses. Entangled particles behave like one system, no matter how far apart they are. Change one, and the other responds instantly. Not quickly, instantly. Distance becomes irrelevant. That's exactly what non-duality has been saying forever: Separation is a mental construct, not a cosmic one. Second: Realism collapses. Particles don’t have fixed properties until they’re observed. Reality doesn’t sit there waiting to be discovered. Reality arises in relationship. Observer and observed are a single event, not two separate things. This is Vedanta. This is Buddhism. This is Taoism. This is physics in 2022. Zeilinger himself said that the line between “information” and “reality” gets blurry. Translation: the universe is built out of relationships, not Lego blocks. 1922: Niels Bohr and the Art of Opposites A hundred years earlier, Niels Bohr earned his Nobel Prize by introducing complementarity , the idea that truth comes in pairs that only make sense together. Light is a wave and  a particle. Electrons are fields and  points. Reality refuses to be boxed into one category. When Bohr was knighted, he chose a yin-yang symbol for his coat of arms with the motto: Contraria sunt complementa. Opposites are complementary. He understood it: the universe is non-dual. Opposites define each other. They arise together, mind and matter, self and world, wave and particle. Even Bohr openly compared quantum physics to Taoism. Science didn’t “invent” non-duality. It stumbled into it. 1933: Schrödinger and the One Mind A decade later, Erwin Schrödinger won the Nobel Prize for wave mechanics, mathematics that treats matter as continuous fields rather than little billiard balls. Particles are expressions of a universal wave. The “many” is just the One appearing in different ways. Schrödinger was deeply influenced by the Upanishads, and he didn’t hide it. He flat-out said that Vedanta and quantum physics were pointing to the same thing. His most famous line: “Consciousness is a singular of which the plural is unknown.” There is no “my consciousness” and “your consciousness.” There is consciousness, appearing as many, but only One in essence. This is Advaita Vedanta. This is Buddhism’s “no separate self.” This is the Christian mystic’s union with the divine. And it’s modern physics. THE DEEPER YOU LOOK, THE MORE UNITY YOU FIND Look for consciousness in the brain, and you find processes, not a self. Look for particles in the atom; you find fields, not objects. Look for separateness in the universe, you find entanglement, not isolation. Every tradition has its own word for it: Brahman. Nirvana. The Tao. Divine union. Cosmic consciousness. Science calls it non-locality, complementarity, quantum fields. They’re all describing the same thing. Different accents, same truth. THE MERGE: WHERE SCIENCE AND SPIRITUALITY FINALLY SHAKE HANDS Science gives us the structure. Spirituality gives us the experience. When science forgets the human spirit, it becomes cold and mechanical. When spirituality forgets science, it slides into wishful thinking. But when the two meet, really meet, you begin to see your life differently: Every thought you have, every atom in your body, every moment you witness is part of one continuous field of being. You’re not observing the universe. You are the universe observing itself. And once you see that, you can’t unsee it. Happy Holidays. Let life, love & light be your guide.

Hey Uncle Gary, My boyfriend (31M) and I (24F) were talking about age gaps in dating. For context, we met when I was 22, and he was 29, so we have a gap ourselves. Before him, I’d only ever been in a long-term relationship with someone just a year older than me, so this dynamic is very different. During the conversation, he told me that at 31, he would still be “willing” to date someone as young as 18. His reasoning bothered me. He said women his age have “too much baggage”, too many breakups, too many past relationships, don’t listen, don’t trust men, harder to get pregnant, and so on. Basically, he sees younger women as easier, less complicated, and more “fertile.” Then he used me as an example: that he liked my age because I only had one boyfriend before him, didn’t think “all guys are the same,” listened to him, and “looked up” to him. Yes, he tells me I’m pretty and have a lot going for me, but he also made it clear that my age and lack of experience were big factors for him. That already didn’t sit right with me. This is also the same man who thinks a single woman who travels is a red flag. So when he says dating younger is “better” and “less stressful,” it honestly sounds like he wants someone young, impressionable, and easy to shape. That’s what really unsettled me. I told him I thought the whole mindset was hypocritical. He criticizes women his age for having the exact kinds of experiences he has had. Meanwhile, we’ve been dealing with jealousy and insecurity issues; he gets upset if I have normal conversations with men, brings it up later, and says he needs reassurance every time. But somehow that isn’t “baggage,” yet women his age supposedly have too much of it. On top of that, he went into this whole thing about fertility, how younger women are more likely to get pregnant. I have PCOS, so conceiving may be challenging for me, but even then: being young doesn’t guarantee pregnancy, so the logic feels shallow. There’s more. When we first met, I was 22 and about to transfer to a university. I had two options: a fully online bachelor’s program or attending classes in person. I work full-time and was weighing what would allow me to succeed. When I shared this with him, instead of supporting my goals, he immediately pushed me toward the online program because he “didn’t want me influenced by college parties” (I don’t party at all) and didn’t want me around other men. He said I needed to prioritize “what’s best for the relationship” and consider what he  wanted before deciding. I ended up choosing the online option because I didn’t want the conflict, but looking back, it feels manipulative. All of this together has left me really uncomfortable. I wanted to post this to see what people think about age gaps like ours and the mindset he has. Because to me, something feels fundamentally off, and he insists there’s nothing wrong with how he sees it. It’s getting to the point where I’m questioning the entire dynamic. Signed, Grossed Out Dear Grossed Out, What you’re describing isn’t simply a difference in preferences or a harmless opinion about age gaps. It’s a clear look into how he views relationships, control, and the kind of partner he believes he should have. And the pattern here is important. There’s a reason his comments made you uneasy: they reveal a worldview built on insecurity, not maturity. A 31-year-old man saying he would date an 18-year-old because younger women are “easier,” have “less baggage,” and can be “shaped” more easily is not expressing a healthy perspective. He’s expressing a desire for a power imbalance, something he can lean on instead of doing the real work of becoming a stronger, more secure partner. Using your lack of experience as a reason he liked you wasn’t a compliment. It was an admission that he values inexperience because it makes him feel safer and more in control. Meanwhile, he’s projecting onto women his age the very issues he struggles with himself. He describes others as “bitter,” “hurt,” or “untrusting,” while he’s the one who gets jealous of normal interactions, needs constant reassurance, and makes decisions driven by fear. That’s not just hypocrisy, it’s emotional immaturity. And pushing you into an online program to avoid imagined temptations? That wasn’t protection. That was control dressed up as concern. You altered your education and professional opportunities to keep him calm, not because it was the best decision for you. That’s a red flag all by itself. The pieces line up in a straightforward way: He’s insecure. He’s controlling. And his age-gap philosophy isn’t about compatibility; it’s about maintaining an advantage. Your discomfort isn’t overreacting. It’s your intuition telling you the dynamic isn’t healthy, and that the mismatch in maturity is far bigger than the difference in years. You’re questioning the relationship because there’s something to question. And the truth is simple: a partner who needs you to be inexperienced, isolated, or less empowered to feel secure is not a partner who is ready for a real relationship. You deserve someone who matches your growth, not someone who tries to limit it. Regards, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, I need your wisdom before I accidentally end up on an HR poster titled “What Not to Do at Work.” I’m happily married, ten years together, two years officially hitched, two kids, and zero interest in extracurricular activities. But apparently, the moment some women at my job heard the words “I’m married,” they treated it like an activation phrase. Suddenly, I’m the office forbidden fruit. "You know what I mean." One cowor, er slid her hand onto my upper inner thigh  like she was checking the ripeness of produce. Another wrapped her fingers around my mustache like she was trying to summon a genie. First of all, that is disgusting. Second, the only person allowed to touch my face is my wife, and even she knows to ask the mustache nicely. Then coworker number three invited me to her apartment for “fun.” Sir, the only fun I have these days is trying to keep my toddler from flushing LEGOs down the toilet. My male coworkers say I should be flattered. Absolutely not. It’s disrespectful to me, my wife, and my peace of mind. Even HR got in on it, the manager started calling me “the babe magnet.” I snapped and yelled at one of them to leave me alone…and somehow I’m  the one who got written up. To make things even better, they fired the HR department and replaced them with an HR chatbot that couldn’t solve a sandwich order, let alone harassment. Uncle Gary, how do I survive this circus while keeping my marriage intact, my dignity in place, and my mustache untouched? Signed, Please Save me, Dear Please Save Me, Let’s get something straight right away: you’re not imagining this, you’re not overreacting, and no one should be treating your thigh or your mustache like a public demonstration zone. What you’re facing is a workplace that’s lost all sense of basic boundaries. Now, let’s slow things down. This is the kind of situation where the calm, steady voice would say, “This needs to stop,” while the sharper voice in your head mutters, “How did adults get this confused about personal space?” You’re doing the right thing by protecting your marriage and your sanity. That alone puts you ahead of the chaos swirling around you. But you also deserve real support, not a malfunctioning HR chatbot that couldn’t manage a lunch order. Here’s how you protect yourself: 1. Document everything. Every comment, every grabby moment, every “come over for fun” invitation. Dates, times, witnesses. The whole timeline. When the workplace is asleep at the wheel, your notes become your shield. 2. Use the actual hotlines that exist for situations exactly like this. You’re allowed to get outside guidance. In fact, in your scenario, it’s smart. EEOC (Equal Employment Opportunity Commission) Toll-free: 1-800-669-4000 They can explain your rights and how to file a harassment or discrimination complaint. U.S. Department of Labor1-866-4-USA-DOL (1-866-487-2365) For questions about workplace rights, labor laws, retaliation, and employer obligations. OSHA1-800-321-OSHA (6742) For unsafe work environments—which includes boundary-violating nonsense. These are actual humans who understand federal law, not a glitchy bot pretending to run HR. 3. Set boundaries with calm, simple clarity. You don’t need anger. You need firmness. Try:“I’ve asked you to stop. This behavior is inappropriate and unwelcome. Any further incidents will be reported.” Short. Direct. No openings for debate. 4. Ignore anyone telling you to feel flattered. Being harassed isn’t a compliment. It’s a mess waiting to happen. People who encourage you to enjoy it aren’t offering advice, they’re revealing their own low standards. 5. Guard the mustache. If someone reaches for it without permission, that’s not playful. That’s an alert. There are unwritten rules in life, and “don’t touch another person’s facial hair” is one of them. 6. Hold your ground. You’re showing integrity in a space that clearly isn’t. That’s not weakness. That’s clarity. You know who you are, what you value, and what you refuse to tolerate. You’re not the problem. You’re the only person in that environment acting like a grown adult. Use the hotlines. Document everything. Escalate above the chatbot. And keep your boundaries, and your mustache intact. Smart people seek wisdom, not approval. Regards, Uncle Gary

Hey Uncle Gary, I just started dating a man who has only a couple of close friends. My friends say it's a red flag. Should I be concerned that something is weird about him? Signed, Concerned Dear Concerned, In a world obsessed with visibility, noise, and social currency, it is easy to misread a man with few friends. People often assume that a small circle signals loneliness, isolation, or a lack of social skills. But that assumption misses the truth entirely. A man who keeps his circle small is not waving a red flag; he is demonstrating a level of self-mastery that many spend their entire lives trying to achieve. A man with a tight, selective group of friends is a man who knows himself. He understands that quality matters more than quantity. He is not swayed by crowd approval, nor is he driven by the need to be constantly surrounded by people. His confidence is internal, rooted in self-awareness rather than applause. He does not gather people for the sake of attention; he chooses relationships that align with his values, his ambitions, and his peace. This kind of man is grounded. He is comfortable being alone because solitude is not a threat to him, it is a sanctuary. In quiet moments, he finds clarity. In privacy, he finds strength. He has taken the time to understand what drains him and what nourishes him. That understanding becomes a filter, one that determines who gets access to him and who does not. He is selective with his energy, not because he is standoffish, but because he understands its value. He has worked hard to build a life that is stable, calm, and drama-free. Gossip does not interest him. Chaos does not tempt him. He has made peace a priority, and he protects it the way others guard their status or their image. A man like this does not chase meaningless relationships to fill space. He does not cling to people out of insecurity or fear of being alone. He knows what he wants, and he refuses to waste time on what does not matter. His boundaries are firm, his standards are high, and his sense of self is intact. So when you encounter a man with few friends or a very small circle, understand what you are looking at. This is not a man who has been left out. This is a man who has opted out—who has chosen depth over noise, intentional bonds over casual connections, and self-respect over constant validation. It is not loneliness. It is discipline. It is not isolation. It is self-mastery. And men like that? They are the hardest ones to replace. Let me know how it works out, Uncle Gary

You are always welcome at All Saints Pasadena

Uncle Gary, I need clarification before Yelp thinks I’m reviewing a criminal enterprise. I went for my very first  massage today. The therapist, an older Asian lady, had me fully undress, get under the sheets, and then promptly ignored the sheets like they were optional décor. By the time she told me to flip over, I had… let’s call it a very enthusiastic reaction  from all the inner-thigh attention. And look, I wasn’t there for anything “extra,” but she was doing things that definitely woke up the nervous system. At one point, she practically draped her thighs across my face while reaching over me. So now I’m wondering: is this the kind of spa that only exists in the wilder corners of Craigslist? Signed, First Timer Dear First Timer, Oh Man… welcome to the world of professional touch, surprise plot twists, and the occasional “Is this how I die?” moment on a massage table. First, let me ease your mind: Your body did exactly what bodies do. You’re not broken, creepy, perverted, or headed for a confession booth. You’re a human being with a pulse and nerve endings. Sometimes the elevator goes up on its own. It’s biology, not intent, relax. Now… about the massage . A real, reputable spa keeps you draped like you’re starring in a mummy documentary. What you described? That’s… let’s just say it leans a little “off menu.” When the sheet gets treated like a suggestion, and the therapist is using your face as a yoga block, that’s not exactly Spa Day at the Four Seasons. And the inner-thigh festival  you endured? That’s typically on the “absolutely not” list in professional massage unless it’s medically necessary or you’ve signed paperwork that includes the phrase “athlete.” So yes, you might’ve wandered into the type of establishment that advertises “stress relief” with suspicious quotation marks. Here’s the good news: You’re safe, you learned something, and your next massage (at a legitimate place) will feel like heaven by comparison. Look up licensed therapists with real reviews, not the ones that say “ask for Mimi, she is very friendly 😉.” Take a deep breath. You’re fine. Just chalk this up to your origin story. Smart people seek wisdom, not approval. Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, How do I forgive someone who isn’t sorry? Signed, Disappointed Dear Disappointed, Let me start here. Forgiveness is not a performance. It’s not a handshake, a ceremony, or a public declaration. It’s not about letting someone off the hook. It’s about letting yourself off the hook. When someone hurts you and never apologizes, it’s tempting to hold on to that pain like it’s proof. Proof that they were wrong. Proof that you were right. Proof that you’re still waiting for justice. But here’s the thing: that proof gets heavy. It doesn’t just weigh on your heart. It starts to shape your days. Forgiveness, in this case, is not about them. It’s about you deciding that their lack of remorse doesn’t get to define your peace. You don’t need their permission to heal. You don’t need their apology to move forward. You don’t even need them to know you’ve forgiven them. Now, I’m not saying you have to invite them to brunch. You don’t have to send a card or pretend nothing happened. You can forgive someone and still keep your distance. You can forgive someone and still say, “I’m not putting myself in that position again.” Forgiveness is not forgetting. It’s remembering without reliving. It’s saying, “That happened. It hurt. But I’m not carrying it anymore.” And if you’re waiting for them to say sorry, let me gently suggest you stop holding your breath. Some people will never say it. Not because they’re evil, but because they’re incapable. They don’t have the tools. They don’t have the courage. They don’t have the self-awareness. So you forgive them anyway. Not because they deserve it, but because you do. And if that feels too big right now, start small. Forgive them for one thing. One moment. One sentence. Then see how it feels. You don’t have to do it all at once. You just have to start. Forgiveness isn’t a gift you give them. It’s the one you give yourself. Best Regards, Uncle Gary

Dear Uncle Gary, I'm 23, still living at home and going to school, taking a full load and working part-time. Is it selfish to want space from my own family? Signed, Leave Me Alone Dear Leave Me Alone, You’re not selfish. You’re human. You’re juggling school, work, and the emotional weight of figuring out who you are and where you’re headed. That’s a full plate. Wanting space doesn’t mean you don’t love your family; it means you’re trying to breathe while carrying all that. Now, depending on your family dynamics, asking for space might feel like asking for the moon. Some families hear “I need time” and translate it as “I don’t care.” That’s not on you. That’s just old wiring. You can love people and still need a room of your own, physically, emotionally, spiritually. So what do you say to Mom and Dad? Try this: “I’m not pulling away. I’m just trying to build something for myself, and I need a little quiet to do it.” Or: “I love being here, but I’m stretched thin. I need some time to recharge so I can show up better, for school, for work, and for you.” Or even: “I’m not shutting you out. I’m just trying to hear myself think.” You don’t have to make a speech. You just need to be honest without being dramatic. If they push back, stay calm. You’re not asking for permission to love them less. You’re asking for space to love yourself more. And if anyone tries to guilt you for that, just remember: you’re not asking for distance out of resentment. You’re asking for it out of respect, for yourself, for your goals, and yes, even for them. Because when you take care of your own energy, you show up better for the people you care about. So no, it’s not selfish. It’s self-aware. And that’s something to be proud of. Best Regards, Uncle Gary