
My sister is unhappy with her life but does nothing to change it. What can I do?
I love my sister dearly. However, we could not be more different. I approach things head on: if something is a problem, I start working on it. She, on the other hand, is very passive. For the last 10 years three issues have been bothering her – her weight, her marriage and her dissatisfaction with her job. But she does nothing about any of them.
I tried to help her in many different ways: direct advice – she gets offended and feels judged. Then I tried 'tiptoeing' around her. For each suggestion, she always has an excuse why it won't work. Additionally, she often has a victim complex, as if things are just happening to her and that she has no personal agency.
Now I just listen because I gave up. But, because of this, I am feeling like a 'dumping space' – my sister can talk for an hour about the same things. So I was wondering, what can I do? What other approaches can I try, so I can help my sister, while still being supportive and letting her do things in her own time and way? It hurts to see her stuck in life.
Eleanor says: Does she feel like this all the time or does she store up the complaints and resentments to vent to you? It might be useful to get clear on this part first.
How much of the total do you think you're seeing? Does she truly think that her job, her marriage, her weight are all going badly, or is it just that she's comfortable enough with you to tell you the bad bits? You're siblings; she might feel she doesn't need to be falsely sunny with you. This is a kind of closeness but it can easily lead to a misunderstanding. You think, 'Why doesn't she change, if she only has negative things to say?', while she thinks, 'Isn't it great I can share the only negative things I have to say?'
If she's storing up the negatives to vent to you, she might not want practical help. She might just want to share the feelings and have your patience. It's possible that the way you help your sister with the struggles she discusses is not by changing them – but by letting her discuss them. You say you just listen now because you gave up, but 'just listening' may be precisely the kind of help she wants. Being really heard is more than many people get in a lifetime.
I know it's annoying to feel like a dumping ground. It's quadruply annoying when every solution gets blocked or pooh-poohed before you've even finished offering it. But if you think of these conversations as the help you give her that might make them easier to endure. And it might make them easier to be deliberate about, too. For instance, it might help to ask: 'What do you want me to do, when you share these things about work or your marriage? When do you feel like that chat has been helpful?' In time you might even suggest that if what she wants is a way to air frustrations, that might be better done with a professional, not just a sibling.
On the other hand, say she isn't just venting – say she's just stably unhappy with her marriage, her work, her weight. Ten years is a long time to feel like that. And it's a long time to go without changes. I think a person's agency can atrophy; go long enough without making choices and our ability to do so gets weaker. We can start to feel as though we're not the kind of person who could want things or take steps to get them.
When that happens, sometimes the only power we feel we have left is to block and say no. Shutting down suggestions, or insisting no change will work, can be a way of reclaiming a sour imitation agency when the real thing seems unavailable.
If that's the case, helping that can start with listening, too. When I'm in that horrible inertia of agency-less-ness I've always found it devastatingly galvanising to be asked: 'Do you want things to feel different?' That's not a solution, a proposed plan or somebody else's idea of what needs to change. It's just a question, and engaging with it long enough to answer it can remind you that there's something inside you that is still at the controls.
Sometimes helping someone isn't a matter of finding a practical solution. Sometimes it's about listening and talking to someone in ways that remind them that they want a solution too.
The letter has been edited for length
Do you have a conflict, crossroads or dilemma you need help with? Eleanor Gordon-Smith will help you think through life's questions and puzzles, big and small. Your questions will be kept anonymous.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles


Daily Mail
an hour ago
- Daily Mail
EXCLUSIVE I invented the 'Death Clock'... and was horrified when it confirmed my worst fears about my own health
Brent Franson wasn't afraid of dying. He was afraid of dying from Alzheimer's disease. He remembers seeing sufferers on TV growing up, with their listless expressions and inability to walk. It left him certain he did not want to develop the devastating condition. His worst fear was revealed when he used the Death Clock - an artificial intelligence that predicts - down to the minute - when and how a person will die. Franson invented the app, which analyzes a person's body metrics and lifestyle, and input his own information. The 43-year-old was shocked when the Death Clock projected his demise at 76 years old. Among possible causes of his death: Alzheimer's. It made sense, Franson thought. In his 20s, he had become addicted to anti depressants and sedatives, which left him unable to sleep properly for a decade - a risk factor for neurological decline - and he had a gene that predisposed him to dementia. Franson was also working late, eating large late-night dinners and balancing his role as husband and father-of-three. Determined to change his fate, however, Franson made major lifestyle changes - becoming what he called a 'sleep athlete.' He fine-tuned his schedule to make time for rest and exercise and to create a better work-life balance. One year later, he ran his information through the Death Clock again and it revised its estimate — adding an extra nine years to his life expectancy. The most likely cause of death? Alzheimer's was still a possibility, but so were cardiovascular diseases and cancer. 'Something does have to kill you eventually,' Franson told He added: 'My biggest fear in life, it's not death. It's Alzheimer's. Just the thought of having to live with Alzheimer's — so this was really a wake-up call for me.' As the aging population of the US continues to grow, so will the rates of dementia. Currently, an estimated 6.8million Americans have Alzheimer's disease - the most common form of dementia - the vast majority of whom are over 65 years old. By 2050, this number is projected to rise to nearly 13 million. A lack of sleep - especially a lack of deep sleep - has been linked to an increased risk of Alzheimer's in numerous studies. Experts say it stops the body from clearing out waste products from the brain — raising the risk of dangerous amyloid beta protein clumps forming that raise someone's risk of the disease. More than one in three adults — 50 to 70million people — regularly do not meet the CDC's recommendation of at least seven hours of sleep every night. One study has suggested sleeping six or fewer hours per night before age 70 is linked to a 30 percent increased risk of dementia compared to people getting seven hours or more. It can also drive other unhealthy behaviors, like exercising less or eating more sugary treats, which can also raise risk. To boost his sleep, and slash his risk of Alzheimer's, Franson began by banning all mobile phones from the bedroom. He set a consistent bedtime of 9.30pm, and made sure to have his last meal at 5.30pm every night. Scientists say a consistent bedtime helps the body's circadian rhythm while eating too close to bedtime means the body is still digesting, disrupting sleep. Some suggest it can take three to four hours for a meal to transit into the intestines. He also lowered the bedroom temperature to 60 degrees Fahrenheit (15 degrees Celsius). Experts recommend sleeping at temperatures between 60 and 67 degrees to reduce the body's internal temperature and ensure a restful night's sleep. He had two sets of blackout blinds installed in his bedroom, as well. One that descends horizontally from the ceiling, and another that moves vertically across the window, to block out all light while he sleeps. Another lifestyle change was cutting out alcohol. Alcohol has also been linked to sleep disruption, reducing the amount of time spent in REM sleep — a stage for memory consolidation — disrupting the sleep cycle. The Alzheimer's Society says drinking alcohol also reduces the volume of the brain's white matter, which helps the brain transmit signals between different regions. This can lead to issues with the way the brain functions. Alcohol can also shrink the parts of the brain involved in memory. Franson also makes sure to exercise during the day, saying he alternates between weight lifting, cardio exercises and yoga. A July 2022 study published in the journal Neurology analyzed the health information of 501,400 people from a British health database over 11 years. Researchers found people who engaged in consistent vigorous activity — sports or working out — had a 35 percent reduced risk of developing dementia. Even people who reported completing household chores saw a benefit and had a 21 percent lower risk of dementia. A separate October 2022 meta-analysis of 38 international studies found people who engaged in activities like regularly walking, running, dancing, playing sports or swimming had a 17 percent reduced risk of developing Alzheimer's disease compared to those who did not. And while there is plenty of fancy and expensive health tech, Franson said sleep, diet and exercise are more than 90 percent of the puzzle of longevity. He added that nine percent was cancer screenings and about one percent was 'all this crazy stuff that people like to talk about.' Franson added: 'The discussion in the longevity space is often focused on the wrong thing. 'People devote a lot of time talking about things like Ashwaganda or full-body scans when, compared to sleep, diet and exercise, these are going to make only tiny incremental differences.'


Daily Mail
an hour ago
- Daily Mail
The luxury mountain enclave where homes cost up to $18million is just 20 minutes from the Vegas Strip
A luxury mountain community carved out of solid rock just minutes from the Las Vegas Strip is offering its final collection of homes, with price tags reaching a staggering $18million for a single plot of land. Ascaya, the exclusive Henderson enclave that was made out of the McCullough Range mountains, has revealed its last batch of available lots. This comes after years of development work that moved 15 million cubic yards of material. The enclave calls itself a 'private luxury community overlooking Las Vegas'. 'The next era of luxury in Las Vegas is here. From the panoramic views of the world-renowned Strip to the stunning collection of desert contemporary homes to the remarkable array of amenities and experiences, Ascaya is in a class all by itself,' its website writes. The newly released Cloud Rock Collection features 58 lots ranging from 1.6 to 6.6 acres. Prices start at $2million and reach up to $18million for the most luxurious sites. These final lots boast the highest elevation in the development and are on average the largest available, development lead Sam Brown told Las Vegas Review Journal. Since reopening, Ascaya has attracted a who's who of celebrities and sports figures, including Kiss rock legend Gene Simmons and Las Vegas Raiders owner Mark Davis. Brown told the Las Vegas Review-Journal that the current economic state including high interest rates and stock market volatility, doesn't stop the ultra-wealthy clientele. 'We cater to an affluent clientele, and if interest rates are, say, 4.5 percent versus I think around 6.5 percent today, that really means something to the vast majority of people,' Brown told the outlet. 'In Ascaya, most people are either paying cash or it's a decision to finance, not necessarily a requirement based on the means that they have,' Brown added. 'In our core business, which is selling these homesites, people who buy them have to have a somewhat medium-to long-term horizon. 'You don't buy a homesite and move in the next day. You hire an architect, design your dream house, and get it built, which is a two to three-year process.' The development is planned for more than 300 homes total, with 67 already completed as of early May, another 27 under construction or in the permitting process, and 20 more in architectural review. The minimum home size requirement is 4,500 square feet on most streets, though the average Ascaya residence spans over 8,000 square feet. The enclave also includes experiences and entertainment options such as a fitness center, a 50m swimming pool, private cabanas and a tennis and pickleball pavilion. The enclave also includes experiences and entertainment options such as a fitness center The minimum home size requirement is 4,500 square feet on most streets, though the average Ascaya residence spans over 8,000 square feet Brown concluded: 'We're seeing great activity on the lots. We're also getting close to coming online with our condominium project, called The Canyon Residences. 'We think it allows Ascaya to reach a broader market. They're 3,500 to 4,500 square feet, so I would refer to them, in relativity, as compact.'


The Guardian
an hour ago
- The Guardian
I am a trans teenager. This is what it means to hate the shape of your own skin
You're fairly sure your skin has always been a problem. A problem before you even realised, lurking in the background of your earliest memories. Never with a clear mark for when you realised it was a problem. (When you realised what it means, to hate your skin so much.) But with signs scattered throughout your life. The very earliest sign was swimming. Or clothes in general, really, but swimming was the easy one. When you swam, you always wore (and always still wear) a shirt, even though the males of your family don't. More broadly, you refuse to ever be seen without one. You called it modesty, but now you know it as shame. Shame for your square-ish, flat, slightly hairy flesh prison. Because, even then, you knew your chest should be covered up, even though your skin is flush against your ribs and males don't need to cover up. (The thought makes you sick – not the unfairness of who should cover what, but that you don't actually have to care. You want the extra part of the dress code, the additional rule when swimming.) So despite the fact that you didn't have to, you covered up. Refused to take off your shirt, anywhere, for any reason. Convinced that you were just being dumb. And even if it was discomforting, it was so easy to write it off. So easy to shy away from the teasing about your modesty, so easy to pretend you were just a little odd and there was nothing else to it. Because as long as you're just a bit odd, nothing could go wrong. Just push it down, just don't think about it, just ignore the wrongness of your skin and the strangeness of your bones. Masking yourself as you masked your body, because you were safe if you didn't think about it. If you ignored why you needed to cover up, you could pretend you were fine and normal and yourself. A sweet little lie. The most obvious sign, a little later than the swimming, was video games, and your refusal to play as a male. 'Girls look better!' you might have said. But that wouldn't explain the first-person games, the ones where you spent hours dressing up a character so unlike you, even though you would only ever see the results in menu screens. Even back then, playing games, having fun, there was a crushing sensation. A vague, growing envy. That even little digital pictures wore their skins better than you. That feeling – the crush, the envy, even a little hurt. It's never left you. You find it in the mirror, in your head when you look down at yourself, in the back of your mind when you're reading. It's a second skin, a layer of disgust. You clench your hands and it's there. You scrub yourself in the shower and it's there. Rest your hands on your thighs and it's there. You're terrified that no matter what you do, the crush will never leave. That you will always be what you are, instead of what you want to be. The first time you showed off a bit – wore a sports bra, showed some skin – there was so much joy that it scared you. Because the one truth of you is that your skin disgusts you. But put a strip of fabric over your chest and suddenly your skin made you ecstatic. And from that moment, from seeing yourself in the mirror like that, you know something has changed. You realise that there's a word for you, as your eyes trace the shape of the skin you suddenly want to keep seeing. A word that encapsulates so much but also so little, and you're terrified of it. (You still are, if you're being honest.) It settles over the crush and the envy and the hurt and, suddenly, there's so much more of you than there was only a few days before. A cut in that second skin of disgust, showing something promising beneath. And then the crush comes, and you put a bandaid over that cut. The joy of your skin deserts you, and the disgust returns, because you know exactly what's wrong when you look in the mirror now, and there's no amount of pretending that can fix it. You stay up late with your best friend, and they help you find a name, and it is the warmest feeling in the world, and your skin constricts around you. Because names don't fix the fact that you aren't you. That your skin isn't yours, and seeing your own face is like the sound of cracking glass turned into a feeling, and you begin to fear that you will never be fixed. Because you have lived in ignorant bliss for so long – simply calling yourself weird, simply swallowing it all down. There was peace in your lack of self, in not realising why you've slowly, unnoticeably grown addicted to skirts and long hair and bare strips of skin. Because as long as you didn't think about it, it couldn't quite hurt you. As long as you were strange little (not-)you, you were safe and you were normal and you were completely fine. And now you're not. You're not fine. And you haven't been for a long, long time. Your safety, your peace, has been torn down so slowly you didn't even notice, and now everything hidden behind it has come rushing out. Everything you were has been torn out and you don't know how to rebuild yourself. You've lost every building block, and all that's left is the hurt that you've spent your life crushing out. The hurt when you touch your face, when you see your hands, when you sit down with your thighs together. You're terrified of what you want to be. Terrified because you finally realise it, finally see the shape of everything you've been forcing down. Terrified, because now you know what you are, and that knowledge is like an anchor with a too-short chain. Fine when you kept it up, but now you've let it drop, and it's tugging you down with it. You were afloat, and now you're drowning, and you don't know if you'll ever surface again. In Australia, support is available at headspace. Other international helplines can be found at Elsie Thwaites is a student and hobbyist writer