One Thanksgiving, while most families gathered around dinner tables, Janina Estrada cruised the neighborhoods of Orange, California, searching for her 42-year-old son Jimmy Barela in the rain. For nearly two decades, he had cycled through schizophrenia, addiction, diabetes, homelessness and psychiatric crises. She knew his usual sleeping spot: behind the dumpster at Jack in the Box. Sometimes he would run from her. But in October 2023, Estrada believed she finally had a different option: California had just launched the Community Assistance, Recovery and Empowerment (CARE) Court, a new program designed for people with severe psychotic disorders. Less a traditional court than a structured intervention, CARE aims to connect people with housing, medication and treatment before they spiral into jail, conservatorship or death.  “These are the forgotten people,” Estrada says. “They were left behind. I was not about to leave my son out there.” She filled out the six-page petition herself. Within days, two Orange County behavioral clinicians, Juan Banda and Chauncey Bowie, were assigned to Jimmy’s case. “If it wasn’t for Juan and Chauncey,” Estrada says, “my son wouldn’t be here anymore.” The Orange County Courthouse in Santa Ana, California. Credit: Mike Ledray / Shutterstock They work at one of the most challenging intersections in American mental health care: With their calm, grounded demeanor, they approach people with schizophrenia and other severe psychotic disorders who do not know they are sick, distrust institutions or experience paranoia so acute that even a greeting can feel like a threat. Before schizophrenia overtook Jimmy Barela’s life, he had worked as a dental assistant and truck driver, married and raised two children. Over the years, he drifted through shelters, hospitals, jail and conservatorships that never lasted. Police and crisis teams often refused to intervene unless he became violent. Before CARE, Estrada would call 911 or Orange County’s Mobile Crisis Assessment Team (CAT), “always talking to a different person, always starting over.” Estrada recalls a particularly harrowing incident when her son was running into oncoming traffic during a psychotic episode and she called police. “They came and gave him a traffic ticket! A traffic ticket!” she repeats, shaking her head at the absurdity, noting that she then had to resolve the tickets for her son. “People like him,” Estrada says, “you can keep him in a clinic, but eventually they have to come out.” CARE provided reliable, steady outreach in Banda and Bowie, which made a crucial difference for the family.  Weighed down by negative news? Our smart, bright, weekly newsletter is the uplift you’ve been looking for. [contact-form-7] HOPE HAPPENS HERE, oversized block letters declare on the fence outside the Hub Resource Center in Orange. Behind the fence, a young woman in a wheelchair rolls toward a picnic table for a meal. A man drags his laundry toward the washer. A small group gathers for Bible study. Banda often brings clients like Jimmy Barela here first so they can take a shower, get a free meal and wash their clothes. “It’s all about building trust,“ he says. “You don’t start by telling someone they have to come to court with you. You start by offering them food and asking them what they need. The client leads the conversation.“ That philosophy, supported by research, has shaped Orange County’s version of CARE. While the state law allows judges to order treatment in limited circumstances, Orange County has largely chosen another route: an intensely voluntary model built around relentless outreach, repeated visits — and a willingness to keep showing up even after a person says no or relapses. “Don’t give up” is Banda’s most important motto: “We’ll try as often as we can.” Veronica Kelley, director of the Orange County Health Care Agency, is unequivocal about the philosophy behind it. “Coercion does not work if we want to change things long-term,” she says. The work begins, she argues, not with a summons or a bench appearance, but with a question: “What do you need?” For Veronica Kelley, the work begins with a question: “What do you need?” Courtesy of OC Health Care Agency Kelley, who was driven to work in mental health due to addiction in her family, says she learned this lesson long before CARE existed. If a person is housed, it could take about 20 visits before trust forms; if unhoused, nearly 40. But once the relationship is established, Kelley says, 90 percent enter voluntary treatment. Banda spends his days driving between San Clemente and La Habra looking to connect with one of his 26 clients, checking psychiatric wards and visiting the almost invisible spaces where crisis lives: makeshift shelters behind a dumpster, tents under a bridge, jail cells or family homes where relatives have spent years bracing for the next breakdown. Every CARE client is offered housing alongside treatment. “Programs like CARE Court are needed because this population gets overlooked,” says Banda. “The program has given attention to this diagnosis of severe psychotic disorders.” Orange County’s first CARE Court graduate — a woman with a history of substance use who had never completed treatment before — has become a symbol of what the program can achieve. She was initially too disoriented to understand why anyone was approaching her but gradually accepted help after repeated visits. With time and patience, she moved into transitional housing and eventually improved enough to begin seeing the possibility of a life beyond addiction. Jimmy Barela’s example illustrates both the promise and peril of the program. When Banda and Bowie first encountered him at an Arco gas station, he was so unstable they immediately hospitalized him. “That’s not how we usually do it,” Banda says with a rueful smile, “but it was necessary. After that, he didn’t speak to us for a month.” Barela, sitting next to him, quietly nods.  Over the following six months, they slowly built trust and offered him various housing options, including a motel, a shelter and a halfway house. But Barela missed curfews, relapsed and drifted away. Only after months on antipsychotic medication did his thinking begin to stabilize. “It took us four months before he signed the care agreement,” Banda recalls. Jimmy Barela (pictured with his mother, Janina Estrada) became Orange County’s second CARE Court graduate in January 2026. Courtesy of Janina Estrada But eventually Barela started seeing a nurse, a doctor and a substance abuse counselor regularly. He now lives in a halfway house, where he enjoys outings to the beach and baseball games. “I like it there,” he says with a smile. In January 2026, he became Orange County’s second CARE Court graduate. A picture shows him with his certificate and a cake. “He wouldn’t be here without CARE Court,” Estrada says, patting her son’s back.  CARE also functions as an alternative to incarceration and conservatorship. “If someone commits a crime due to mental illness, CARE Court can get involved to provide treatment,” Banda explains. “If there is no program like us in place, they have to stay in prison. We’re intervening.”  Still, the system’s contradictions remain unresolved. Critics argue that a court-based model is never fully voluntary when it unfolds under judicial authority and the shadow of more restrictive options. Families, meanwhile, often voice the opposite concern: that CARE moves too slowly to save people in immediate danger.  California’s struggle over how to treat severe mental illness has swung for decades between competing impulses: institutionalization, deinstitutionalization, coercion and neglect. Since the 1950s, when it was far too easy to lock away mentally ill patients, California has steadily narrowed the criteria for involuntary psychiatric treatment. The consequences are visible in encampments across most major California cities, though homelessness dropped last year by roughly nine percent. After he took office in 2019, Governor Gavin Newsom promised to address the intertwined homelessness and mental health crises as a state priority. He championed CARE but has recently criticized its slow adoption, including in Orange County. Kelley understands that frustration, but she resists the premise that force is the answer. Her larger complaint is structural. Orange County can offer services, but it cannot easily fix the housing shortage, the funding gaps or the fragmentation between public and private care. She describes CARE court as an “unfunded mandate,” with one-time state funding that could not be used for staffing. She estimates the county spends about $4 million a year to run the program, pulling staff from its existing assisted outpatient treatment operation to make CARE work. That arrangement has kept the system afloat. But it also exposes a deep truth: the law may have created a new pathway, yet the county still has to build and maintain the road. The county’s own figures show how labor-intensive the model is. One of the biggest criticisms of the CARE model is that it doesn’t reach as many people as hoped. Since its inception less than three years ago, Orange County has received 231 petitions from family members, first responders or health care providers. Of those, 79 clients are currently active, 27 have entered care agreements and six have completed the program. Dozens more remain in outreach, people not yet ready or not yet found.  Statewide, the gap between ambition and reality is even clearer. As of early 2026, more than 3,800 CARE petitions had been filed, resulting in 893 voluntary agreements and 32 court-ordered treatment plans. Those figures fall far short of early projections that estimated 7,000 to 12,000 participants annually.  Banda defends the county’s record by explaining the pace reflects the reality of the work. For supporters, that patience is the point. For critics, it reveals the limits of the system. For families like the Estradas, it is at least an attempt to answer a question that has haunted California for years: How do you help someone who does not believe they need help? The strain on families can be immense. Over years of trying to help her son, 62-year-old Janina Estrada lost her housing because neighbors and landlords complained about Jimmy’s behavior during psychotic episodes. While she and her husband Florencio are on the waitlist for family housing, they live in a white transport van that they regularly pull up in front of Barela’s halfway house to make sure he has eaten and taken his medication.  Wait, you're not a member yet? Join the Reasons to be Cheerful community by supporting our nonprofit publication and giving what you can. Join Cancel anytime The family measures success differently now. For Jimmy, the turning point was being welcomed back into his son’s family. A smile unfolds over his face as he recalls holding his granddaughter, seven-month-old Adeline. What Orange County has built is not a cure, and its leaders do not claim otherwise. The success, Kelley says, is not in hitting a target number of petitions. It lies in saving one life at a time, in helping one person accept treatment, in keeping one family from being abandoned by every system that should have helped sooner. In Banda’s outreach car, we pass a blue van parked at a Chevron station in Garden Grove with the label “Be Well,” a city initiative to provide medical care on the street. It features the same slogan as the Hub in Orange: Hope happens here. The post ‘Relentless Outreach’: The State That Doesn’t Give Up on Mentally Ill Residents appeared first on Reasons to be Cheerful.

When Dairy Queen introduced their DQ Freezer Vault in 2024, folks got very excited. The freezer is home to fan-favorite DQ Blizzard flavors from years gone by. “For decades, we’ve kept our more than 170 delicious Blizzard Treat flavors sealed in the DQ FREEZER for safekeeping. Thanks to our fans, we are opening the doors for the very first time to bring back the Blizzard Treats they never forgot for a limited time,” Maria Hokanson, executive vice president, marketing at ADQ, said in 2024. “This summer, we invite all fans to celebrate the return of their all-time favorite flavors while creating new memories with family and friends.” The DQ Freezer was such a huge success that the company reopened it on June 1, 2026, with a big surprise, and fans are clamoring to try it. View this post on Instagram A post shared by Dairy Queen (@dairyqueen) The Newest DQ Freezer Release is a Salty and Sweet Treat According to an Instagram post, the DQ Freezer opened this June and reintroduced a delicious item. “Fresh drop alert: The DRUMSTICK BLIZZARD Treat with Peanuts is back on the menu, don’t wait on this one!!” The post reads. Of course, this DQ Freezer release made a lot of people happy. “FINALLY!!! It’s back!” A fan cheered. “Yes! One of my absolute favorites!!!!” Another person wrote. Others hoped the DQ Freezer would have their favorite inside. “Still patiently waiting for you guys to bring back the fudge stuffed cookie,” someone wrote. Lots of people want one flavor in particular.   “PLEASE Dairy Queen for my own sanity, please give my friend back the frosted animal cookie. She has spoken about her despair for two summers. BRING BACK THE FROSTED ANIMAL COOKIE!” Someone shared. “My birthday is ruined now. Thanks a lot. I’ve been patient and it was supposed to be Frosted Animal Cookie’s turn,” another person wrote. This response really made us laugh. “Put your coat on and go find a frosted animal cookie,” a follower joked. Which Blizzard flavor do you want to see back this summer? This story’s featured image is by Brandon Bell/Getty Images

There’s a fine line between a unique name and one that sets kids up for a lifetime of ridicule. On the one hand, maybe it shouldn’t matter what other people think, and parents should pick a name that suits their preferences, consequences be damned. On the other hand, their kid might not appreciate that kind of bravery after enduring years of bullying during childhood, followed by constant confusion at Starbucks and truly unenviable work emails once they’re adults. And this chapter of parenting can be a little stressful, even more stressful if neither partner can agree on a name they both like. She had one name in mind. He hated it. This was the case for a husband who absolutely hated a name his wife so eagerly wished to give their unborn son. But rather than follow the popular “one no, two yeses” rule of baby-naming, where both parents must agree on the name chosen for a child, the wife instead went full steam ahead with her idea. According to the husband’s account on Reddit, here’s what happened: “Me (25m) and my wife (23f) are having our first child together. She is currently 9 months pregnant and could give birth anytime in the next couple of weeks. The only major fight we have had throughout her pregnancy happened a couple days ago, and it was about what we were going to name our kid.” AITA for refusing to let my wife name our kid something stupid? byu/Public-Praline-3691 inAmItheAsshole “It all started when we found out the gender of the baby,” he continued. “After we found out we were having a boy we sat down together and made a list. Almost all of the names she suggested were normal, until the one that caused me to write this post. She suggested we name our son Mune.” Mune. Like…dune an “m?” Or like “mun?” “Moon?” “Money?” “Mew-nay?” So many questions. “She told me the name was from this movie she watched when she was younger and that it always stuck with her,” the husband explained, saying that when he told her it felt a “little out there” and was worried their son might get made fun of. After a little back and forth, the couple agreed to take the name Mune off the list. Or so the dad-to-be thought. How a baby blanket started a huge fight “Later on in her pregnancy her mom decided to throw a baby shower as it was her first grandchild. It was fine for the most part until we started to open the gifts. Most of them were normal baby things like diapers and bottles, until we got to her mom’s gift. My wife opened the gift bag and pulled out a blue handmade blanket. It seemed normal enough at first until my wife unfolded it and lo and behold there was the name Mune written on the blanket,” he wrote. The man had tried to keep cool until after the party was over. However, when he confronted his wife about it, all hell seemed to break loose. “She got defensive and told me that it was a good name and that I was overreacting about it,” he concluded. “I brought up the earlier points and told her it was a stupid name for a kid and if she wanted to name something Mune so bad she could use the name for a dog. She got upset and called her mom to come get her. After she left she called me and told me she wouldn’t be coming back for a while. Everyone I’ve talked to about this has said I’m not the asshole, but now that my wife has been gone and I’ve been thinking about it I feel like I could have handled the situation better.” Yikes. A husband arguing with his pregnant wife over the baby’s name. Photo credit: Canva The internet had a lot to say about it While the husband might have regretted his actions, public opinion overwhelmingly sided with him. One mom wrote, “Naming a baby is a 2 yes or 1 no situation. You do not name a child something your partner does not agree with. You find a compromise. This is the start of many necessary compromises in life and it is a total AH move to unilaterally decide on a child’s name despite your partner’s misgivings…She is absolutely not mature enough for motherhood if she can not find a reasonable compromise on this.” Another added “this is a child, not a goldfish. There are consequences and repercussions to choosing a name that is very unusual to begin with…. To go behind the other parent’s back and tell a grandparent what the name is going to be, that is unacceptable.” Others noted how the wife and her mom “pulled a power play,” which “in itself is an a**hole move.” In addition, many pointed out that running away from the conflict (leaving to go to mom’s house) might have not been the best way to handle the situation. “Leaving so she doesn’t have to face the argument is actually a form of abuse if it happens a lot,” one person commented. “She may just have baby brain and be overreacting due to hormones, but that is red flag behavior if it can’t be dismissed for reasons beyond her control.” And if there’s any doubt as to just how damaging “weird” names can be, take it from this person: “My name has prevented me from doing anything that would have my name called out in a crowd of people. Never tried sports. Military was a no go. I don’t even want to apply for higher positions at work because I don’t want to have meetings in closed rooms where people might call my name. “…Being forced to grow up with a weird name discouraged me from a lot of things and I began resenting my parents for thinking they were being creative. I had to live with it through grade school and high school. The ridicule didn’t end until the damage was already done.” What this is really about beyond the name Raising a kid together is full of making compromises, prioritizing healthy communication, and honoring commitments, none of which are easy 100 percent of the time. But if couples can’t learn how to navigate these issues, then disagreeing on names is the least of their problems. We can all agree that parenting as true partners means men often need to step up their games. But it takes two for parenting to truly flourish and that includes respecting your partner and making choices that are good for the entire family. Together. This article originally appeared three years ago. It has been updated. The post Husband asks the world for help after fallout from secretive wife’s choice of ‘horrible’ baby name appeared first on Upworthy.

It all started with a Facebook post about needing a home for a teenage boy who had lost both his parents. Doctor James C. Wittig, a single, never-married physician, always wanted to be a dad, but joked that he “wished he could start fatherhood with a 13-year-old.” Seeing this post, he saw it as the opportunity he had been praying for, and volunteered to raise the boy. After living together for months, Wittig would discover that he and the boy he adopted, Ronnie, shared a special bond, as reported by PEOPLE. View this post on Instagram Wittig was shown a snapshot of two osteosarcoma patients he had treated in the early 1980s, over 40 years ago. Both of the women in the photo had the same type of bone cancer but received different treatments: one had a limb amputated, while the other had limb-sparing surgery. Wittig was a fellow when he cared for the patient whose limb was saved. When her doctor, the fellowship director, retired, Wittig took over as her doctor. Wittig, the Chairman of the Department of Orthopedics at Morristown Medical Center, has used this photograph for years when giving lectures and instructing residents. The image depicted “limb-saving surgery and osteosarcoma.” A Facebook post that changed everything He never met or treated the second woman in the photos, despite having a professional relationship with the woman whose leg was saved. However, after she passed away, he raised her son. Wittig, who remained in contact with his former patient, noticed on Facebook in 2015 that she was looking for someone to care for a kid named Ronnie, the son of a friend who died as a result of complications after her amputation. The boy’s father had also recently died. He contacted the patient and inquired about adopting the boy. In February 2015, Wittig drove from his home near Morristown, New Jersey, to northern Virginia to meet the youngster in person. Soon after that encounter, his patient called to say Ronnie wanted to meet Wittig’s family. Wittig learned the youngster had elected to live with him hours after the second visit. Ronnie’s legal guardianship was transferred to Wittig two weeks later. Then came the discovery that stunned him Wittig recognized the boy’s mother as the other woman in the photograph he had used in presentations for many years after they had been living together for a few months. The coincidence convinced him that this link was predestined. “I see this whole thing as a synchronicity,” he explained. Ronnie struck him as “one of the strongest and kindest and most courageous kids.” Ronnie went on to attend Seton Hall Prep and completed welding school. What fatherhood has meant for this doctor Wittig has yet to formally adopt Ronnie, now in his mid-twenties, but has said the paperwork is less important than their bond. He hinted that their relationship is more than just a piece of paper. Being a parent with a child to “love” and “care about” has been “so fulfilling” for the oncologist. He mentors and leads him through life while also learning from him. Wittig says his son has taught him “kindness, compassion, empathy, love, joy, and happiness” in spades. View this post on Instagram He wrote about Ronnie on his Instagram, “6 years ago today, I had the best thing happen to me, becoming your Dad! It’s one of the biggest miracles in my life, and I am so proud to call you my son! Proud of all you have accomplished and the person you have become! You are amazing to me and my hero! I am always here for you, my son! Love you, buddy!” He believes that his tale may inspire other older, single men and women who desire to have children to realize that it is not too late. This article originally appeared three years ago. It has been updated.   The post Doctor who adopted and raised a teen boy teared up when he discovered the kid’s true identity appeared first on Upworthy.

Teresa Kaye Newman, a teacher, knows a lot about how to deal with children. So she created a list of 11 things she agrees with baby boomers on when it comes to raising kids. Newman believes she has credibility on the issue because she has 13 years of experience dealing with “hundreds and hundreds” of other people’s kids and has seen what happens when her so-called“boomer” parenting principles aren’t implemented. Of course, Newman is using some broad stereotypes in calling for a return to boomer parenting ideas when many Gen X, millennial and Gen Z parents share the same values. But, as someone who deals with children every day, she has the right to point out that today’s kids are entitled and spend too much time staring at screens. Why a teacher is backing boomer rules @teresakayenewman 11 Things I agree with boomer parents on raising children, as a #teacher and soon to be mom. ♬ original sound – Newman Music Academy The full list, straight from her TikTok Here are the 11 things that Newman agrees with boomers on when it comes to raising kids: 1. No iPads “All I’m going to say is my kid has a whole world to explore and none of that has to do with being stuck in front of a tablet.” 2. No smartphone until high school “Kids that are younger than that age do not know internet safety to a point where I feel comfortable letting them have free rein of the internet.” 3. Teaching the value of education “What I’m going to teach them is [education] has nothing to do with how much money you’re making or how successful you’ll be professionally. But you will still value it, nonetheless. You will go with it as far as you possibly can, and then once you’re done with it, you can do whatever you want.” 4. Respect your teachers and treat them well “This may be biased because I am a teacher, but everyone who has gone through a professional degree program and has put in the time and is there, giving you the quality education, deserves some type of attention and deserves to be treated well.” 5. Be kind to elderly folks “If they’re on public transportation and they’re sitting down and there’s an old lady standing next to them and there are no other seats available, my child will know to stand up and give that lady his seat.” 6. Yes, ma’am “It does not matter your age or status in society, as long as they are respecting their pronouns, that’s how we’re gonna be talking to other people.” 7. Greetings and gratitude “Simple greetings and simple terms of gratitude are just not being taught like they used to. I think it’s really sad.” 8. Consequences for poor behavior “If they’re neglecting their schoolwork and not doing what they’re supposed to do, they get their technology taken away. … Simple things like this are pretty common sense and I’m not sure why they’re not being done anymore.” 9. Respect adult conversations and spaces “They don’t get to interrupt 2 adults speaking to each other. They don’t get to come and butt in at an inappropriate time when 2 people are talking to each other.” 10. Clean your mess “My child is going to put as much work in the house as we are regardless of whether he’s paying rent out of his own pocket or not. That’s because when my son becomes an adult, I want him to be a partner or a spouse or a roommate that someone is proud to have around.” 11. Bedtime “I don’t care how old my kid is as long as he is living under my roof as a minor; he’s gonna have some sort of bedtime. But this staying up until 3 or 4 or 5 o’clock in the morning or pulling all-nighters like kids are used to … is absolutely not normal. And I’m not going to have a kid that’s staying up that late and then not waking up the next day.” Not everyone agreed with her, either Newman’s list clearly struck a nerve. The video racked up millions of views and the comments were flooded with teachers, parents, and former kids all nodding along. Not everyone agreed, of course. Some pointed out that modern parenting challenges make a few of these harder to implement than they look. But the core message seems to resonate across generations: raising a kid who is kind, responsible, and respectful never goes out of style. This article originally appeared six years ago. It has been updated. The post Teacher reveals 11 things that boomer parents totally got right appeared first on Upworthy.