• Ayan Said moved to the US as a child and later became a successful nurse and entrepreneur.
• After experiencing a divorce and job loss in 2022, she faced a period of intense personal struggle.
• She found support and connection on LinkedIn, and she's rebuilding her life with optimism.

My parents fled the war in Somalia in 1992 when I was 5 to start a new life in the US.

I grew up in poverty, but despite the challenges, I witnessed my parents' unwavering determination and resilience. Their example instilled in me a profound belief in the power of education and hard work.

While studying psychology during undergrad, my daughter was born prematurely due to Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome. Inspired by the NICU nurses who cared for her, I decided to pursue a career in nursing.

As I witnessed the challenges exacerbated by the effects of the pandemic, I decided to leave my job and pursue full-time entrepreneurship. A nursing colleague and I cofounded a healthcare startup in 2019. It was incredibly rewarding.

Then in 2022, I was tested in ways I never imagined. I lost my job, my home, and almost everything I owned along with deep formative relationships, my identity, and my entire sense of self.

At the height of my success, I lost it all

My marriage with my partner of 20 years, my high school sweetheart, was strained by various challenges that tested our resilience.

After going through marriage counseling, I gained strength and clarity and decided to file for divorce.

When we began the divorce process, I moved my daughter and myself to my mom's for support.

While my marriage was ending, I lost my job

During this challenging period, my startup was growing rapidly, and the weight of imposter syndrome, coupled with the stress of my personal life, took its toll on my work. After my divorce was finalized in September 2022, I was fired from the startup.

These major losses shook me to my core. I was filled with inadequacy, regret, and deep shame and felt like a complete failure.

There were days when even getting out of bed seemed impossible. I was exhausted and frequently woke up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat from nightmares.

This spiral made me feel helpless and unable to see a way forward for myself and my daughter. I lost all motivation to do anything — to eat, go outside, or face anyone. I withdrew from the world. I felt isolated and consumed by my thoughts, and all I could do was cry.

My darkest moment was when I was convinced my absence would benefit my loved ones. Terrified, I knew I had to change everything to break that cycle.

Taking small steps to heal changed my trajectory

At this turning point, I knew I couldn't do it alone anymore.

I leaned heavily on my loved ones for emotional support and started therapy. I made small, deliberate changes to regain my sense of self. I took long walks. I went to the gym. I baked. I journaled and listened to affirmations I wrote and recorded, on repeat, to quiet the loud, terrifying thoughts and to hear a different perspective.

It wasn't a perfect, linear journey. I knew I needed time and space to allow myself to grieve, and it was a slow and agonizing process.

Eventually, I let go of the idea that I had to feel completely whole in an unreasonable timeframe. That was when things truly aligned and the subtle, incremental changes stacked.

I lost everything, but I gained even more in the end

I don't know if I'm completely healed but I'm not in that dark place anymore. I'm still living at home with my mom and slowly rebuilding a life for my daughter and me.

I've applied to a few part-time nursing positions at hospitals near me so I can still focus on my daughter. I've also started brainstorming an idea for a video podcast discussing nursing, entrepreneurship, burnout, mental health, therapy, and self-care.

I'm enjoying the little things again, like playing with makeup with my daughter. I've perfected my Snickerdoodle recipe and reconnected with my faith. I'm navigating single parenthood better. I finally feel like myself again, but I'm deeply, fundamentally changed — in a good way.

Sharing my story helped me connect with others and build a supportive community

I first shared my story on LinkedIn. It was uncomfortable being vulnerable, but I knew I had to share it because the discomfort I felt before clicking the 'post' button paled in comparison to the potential positive impact it could have on someone.

Shortly after, responses flooded in. The most beautiful, unexpected outcome was that my story allowed me to connect with people worldwide.

If you're feeling lost and alone, please ask for help and push through because it does get better. After the darkness, the dawn comes.

• Bill Gates, the Microsoft cofounder, shares three kids with his ex-wife Melinda French Gates.
• They include a recent med school graduate and a fashion startup cofounder.
• He became a grandfather in March when his daughter Jennifer Gates Nassar had her first child.
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Bill Gates' story is a quintessential example of the American entrepreneurial dream: A brilliant math whiz, Gates was 19 when he dropped out of Harvard and cofounded Microsoft with his friend Paul Allen in 1975.

Nearly 50 years later, he's one of the richest and most famous men on Earth, with a fortune of about $131 billion, per Forbes. He stepped down from Microsoft's board in 2020 and has cultivated his brand of philanthropy with the Gates Foundation — a venture he formerly ran with his now ex-wife Melinda French Gates, who resigned in May. 

Even before founding one of the world's most valuable companies, Gates' life was anything but ordinary. He grew up in a well-off and well-connected family, surrounded by his parents' rarefied personal and professional network. Their circle included a Cabinet secretary and a governor of Washington, according to "Hard Drive," the 1992 biography of Gates by James Wallace and Jim Erickson. (Brock Adams, who went on to become the transportation secretary in the Carter administration, is said to have introduced Gates' parents.)

His father, William Gates Sr., was a prominent corporate lawyer in Seattle and the president of the Washington State Bar Association.

His mother, Mary Gates, came from a line of successful bankers and sat on the boards of important financial and social institutions, including the nonprofit United Way. It was there, according to her New York Times obituary, that she met the former IBM chairman John Opel — a fateful connection thought to have led to IBM enlisting Microsoft to provide an operating system in the 1980s.

"My parents were well off — my dad did well as a lawyer, took us on great trips, we had a really nice house," Gates said in the 2019 Netflix documentary "Inside Bill's Brain."

"And I've had so much luck in terms of all these opportunities."

Despite his very public life, his three children with French Gates — Jennifer, Rory, and Phoebe — largely avoided the spotlight for most of their upbringing. 

Like their father, the three Gates children attended Seattle's elite Lakeside School, a private high school that has been recognized for excellence in STEM subjects — and that received a $40 million donation from Bill Gates in 2005 to build its financial aid fund. (Bill Gates and Paul Allen met at Lakeside and went on to build Microsoft together.)

But as they have become adults, more details have emerged about their interests, professions, and family life. 

While they have chosen different career paths, all three children are active in philanthropy — a space in which they will likely wield immense influence as they grow older. While their father has reportedly said that he plans to leave each of the Gates three children $10 million — a fraction of his fortune — they may inherit the family foundation, where most of his money will go.

Here's all we know about the Gates children.

Gates and his children did not respond to requests for comment for this story.

• I live in Newquay, one of the biggest seaside party destinations in the UK. 
• I started using drugs and drinking alcohol to excess before finally getting sober three years ago.
• Getting sober here taught me willpower and the value of sleep and cold-water swimming.

In 2017, I moved to Newquay, Cornwall, to be with my then girlfriend, but I fell in love with its stunning coastlines and quirky inhabitants.

Newquay is one of the United Kingdom's biggest seaside party destinations — and it's home to the annual Boardmasters, a massive multiday music festival.

Soon after moving, my relationship became tumultuous, and I desperately had to find somewhere new to live. I settled for the first place I could find: a one-bedroom apartment in the center of town, an area especially renowned for its nightlife.

When I first moved in, the club scene was the perfect antidote to my heartbreak. My home was situated in the heart of the party!

Every night I stepped outside, I was met with a lively, drunken scene that felt like entering a slightly dangerous theme park. I craved the raucousness to drown out my grief.

I partied a lot for a few years — I was sniffing God knows what and relying on liquid courage to cover up my pain. I'd go out all night, then be able to walk right home in under five minutes.

But the cracks started to show when my drinking and drug use became excessive. Once I started to become a regular at the emergency department of the local hospital because of drug overdoses and alcohol-related trauma, I decided I needed to change my lifestyle.

I knew sobriety was necessary if I wanted to have a healthy life — but living in the center of a party town made getting sober even more of an uphill climb.

My willpower grew stronger every time I said 'no'

In my first few months of sobriety, I had every opportunity to give in to my previous addictions.

Because I'm in the center of town and had been spending weekends getting wrecked with my friends for years, my house had become the go-to for pre-drinks and after-parties. I had people texting me for weeks, months, and even a year after I had been sober to ask if they could come around.

The more I said "no," the easier it got. I grieved the loss of many relationships in my life — all the friends I had were drinking friends — and the loss of my old self.

I started to take advantage of the seaside part of my seaside town. My flat was central to bars but I also lived a short walk from the beach.

I began cold-water swimming after learning it could help relieve anxiety and depression. I found peace swimming in the mornings, one of the few times of the day the town is quiet.

I did my best to avoid triggers and I started to exercise regularly. I found local support groups to aid my recovery, too.

Still, most nights, I'd lay in bed every night listening to the chants of drunk people outside.

I tried going out sober, but now I just do my best to tune out my surroundings

I eventually got to the stage where I felt comfortable enough to go out some nights — I knew that I couldn't avoid it forever.

At first, I found it easy to be sober around people who were drunk because no one seemed to care or notice I wasn't drinking. But I was desperate for peace as soon the clock hit 11 p.m.

Even after I got home, I could still hear the thumping bass of the club nearby that sent vibrations through my walls. It would keep me up and threaten to ruin the routine I had tried so hard to maintain.

I started wearing noise-reducing earplugs and fought back with a drug greater than the ones I'd glorified in the past: sleep. I don't really leave my house after 10 p.m. on weekends anymore.

I'm three years sober now and I still get woken up by the occasional drunk screech outside — but my rowdy neighbors have taught me the importance of a fiercely disciplined routine.

• The US halted deliveries of GPS-guided Excalibur shells to Ukraine due to high failure rates.
• Russia had achieved success in jamming of US-supplied weapons, reports said.
• Classified reports revealed the Excalibur shell strike success dropped from 55% to 6% last summer.

The US halted deliveries of Excalibur extended-range guided artillery shells to Ukraine after Kyiv reported high failure rates, anonymous Ukrainian officials told The Washington Post.

Six months ago, Ukraine told Washington that Russia's jamming of the guidance systems in several US-supplied weapons had eroded its ability to defend its territory, the officials told the Post.

The weapons most affected by the jamming were the Excalibur shells — a GPS-guided 155-mm artillery shell supplied to Ukraine — and the High Mobility Artillery Rocket System, or HIMARS.

In response, the US simply stopped further deliveries of the Excalibur shells, the Ukrainian officials said.

The cost of the Excalibur has soared, according to a Government Accountability Office report, to roughly $100,000 per shell in 2022, as much as 50 times the cost of an unguided 155mm shell, before the full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

Business Insider has reached out to the US Department of Defense for comment on the matter.

At one point, only 1 in 19 Excalibur rounds was hitting its target

Two classified Ukrainian weapons reports seen by The New York Times have since revealed the extent of the issue caused by Russian jamming.

From January to August 2023 the proportion of confirmed successful strikes with Excalibur shells dropped from a high of 55% to a low of 7% in July and 6% in August. During this time, Ukraine was attempting to wage its summer counteroffensive which ultimately failed.

Researchers collected data on the use of some 3,000 Excalibur shells fired by American-supplied M777 howitzers on the front lines in Ukraine's southern city of Kherson, the northern city of Kharkiv, and the eastern city of Bakhmut.

According to a person familiar with the report who spoke to The Times, at one point, only one in 19 Excalibur rounds was hitting its target.

One of the classified reports stated that at this rate, the price of a successful strike increased from $300,000 to $1.9 million.

When first delivered, the M982 Excalibur shells were hailed as a game changer for Ukraine. The GPS-guided 155 mm shells offered an accurate, longer-range alternative to conventional artillery shells, capable of hitting within seven feet of their target.

The Excalibur has a range of 25 miles, according to Pentagon budget documents from 2022 that first confirmed the shells had been sent to Ukraine.

Russian jamming has also affected HIMARS missile and glide bombs

The HIMARS system, which can fire rockets up to 50 miles, has also been hampered by Russian jamming, a Ukrainian military source told The Post.

"The Russians deployed electronic warfare, disabled satellite signals, and HIMARS became completely ineffective," the source told The Post. According to the assessment, Russian jamming can cause the missiles to miss a target by 50 feet or more.

The HIMARS system, which can fire rockets up to 50 miles, has also been hampered by Russian jamming, a Ukrainian military source told The Post.

"The Russians deployed electronic warfare, disabled satellite signals, and HIMARS became completely ineffective," the source told the Post. According to the assessment, Russian jamming can cause the missiles to miss a target by 50 feet or more.

Earlier this week, a report revealed that US-supplied glide bombs were continually missing their targets as a result of Russian jamming, too.

A senior US official, who was not named, told the Post that Russia "has continued to expand their use of electronic warfare, and we continue to evolve and make sure that Ukraine has the capabilities they need to be effective."

However, earlier this month Mike Nagata, a retired US Army lieutenant general who led special operations in the Middle East, said that the US is "still falling behind" in its electronic warfare capabilities, Defense One reported.

"The gap between where the United States should be and where we are, in my judgment, continues to expand not everywhere, but in far too many places," Nagata said at the SOF Week conference in Tampa, Florida.

He called on the US to get more creative to regain its dominance in electronic warfare.