What To Do When Your Teen Asks: Do People Really Find Life Worth Living?
It’s 7:15 on a Tuesday, I’m folding soccer hoodies at the kitchen table, half-watching The Great British Baking Show in the background, and there’s a half-eaten pepperoni pizza on the counter that my 16-year-old, Jax, left after practice. He’s slouched on the couch scrolling TikTok, his cleats still by the door stinking up the entryway. Then he doesn’t look up, just says, “Mom, do people really find life worth living?”
I almost dropped the navy hoodie I was holding. I expected this question from my 13-year-old daughter after she fails a math test or can’t go to a concert, but Jax? He’s the kid who remembers to take the trash out without being asked, who brings his girlfriend daisies from our garden for no reason, who just scored the winning goal in his playoff game last month. It came out of nowhere.
He turned his phone toward me, showing a compilation of 20-somethings and 30-somethings sitting in their cars talking about how they just work 40 hours a week to pay rent, drink on the weekend, and repeat until they die. No one’s happy, they all say. No one actually thinks life is worth it. Jax leaned back and said, “What’s the point of me even trying for college if that’s what it’s gonna be?”
I didn’t jump up and give him that “life is what you make it” speech I saw on a mom reel last week. I didn’t call our counselor that second. I finished folding the hoodie, put it in his laundry pile, and dragged the kitchen chair over to the couch to sit next to him. I said, “You want the honest answer or the one parents are supposed to give?” He said honest.
I said, “A lot of days, it’s not some big amazing thing. I hate paying the water bill. I hate when we run out of coffee and I have to go to the store at 9 pm. I spend three hours a week driving you and your sister to and from practice that I could be spending reading on the porch. Some weeks, I go day to day just waiting for Friday night too. That’s true.” He nodded, because he didn’t expect me to lie.
Then I pulled out my phone and opened my notes app. I’ve had this little running list for a year now, started it after my mom died, when I was having a lot of days where I asked the same question. It’s not a gratitude journal or anything fancy, just a list of dumb little things that made me stop and smile that I don’t want to forget. I showed it to him. That week’s entries were: “Barista remembered I want extra foam in my latte. Our dog got into the strawberry patch and his whole face was red. Jax’s goal last week, I rewatched the video my sister took three times. The new Ben & Jerry’s flavor is actually good. Text from my friend that said she saw a squirrel that looked like me.”
I said, “Most people don’t post these things. They post the vacations and the promotions and the perfect family photos. No one posts that their favorite part of the week was the 10 minutes they sat on the porch drinking coffee before everyone woke up. But that’s where the worth is, for most people. It’s not one big thing that makes it worth it. It’s a hundred little tiny things every month that add up.”
I’ve talked to a couple of other parents and Jax’s school counselor about this, because this question isn’t rare anymore. Kids scroll all day, seeing adults online vent about how terrible adulthood is, and it’s normal for them to ask if this big scary future is even worth working toward. The biggest mistake most of us make is panicking. We either brush it off (“Of course life is worth living, don’t be silly”) which makes kids shut down because they think you won’t get it. Or we jump straight to crisis mode, which can turn a normal, curious question into something that feels wrong to talk about later.
What works instead, the small concrete stuff I’ve tested that doesn’t take any extra time or planning: First, just pause before you answer. You don’t have to fix it in 10 seconds. I’ve started saying “That’s such a good question, let me think for a minute” if I’m caught off guard, instead of blurting out a fake happy answer. Second, be honest about the bad parts. If you’ve had a terrible week, say that. “I’ve had three days this week where I thought exactly that. Work was awful, the car broke down, I didn’t even want to get out of bed.” That builds trust way more than pretending everything is perfect. Third, instead of talking in abstractions, point to specific, small things you’ve both experienced recently. Don’t just say “enjoy the little things” – name the little thing. “Remember when we got those soft pretzels after the game last Saturday and yours had extra salt? That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”
One low-effort habit you can start anytime: when you’re driving your kid somewhere, or folding laundry together, just throw out one small thing that made you smile that day. No pressure for them to answer, no big lesson attached. Just “I saw a cat wearing a little rain jacket on my walk today, that made me laugh.” More often than not, they’ll start joining in after a while.
Jax still asks the question sometimes. Last week, we were driving to get new soccer cleats, and he saw a tweet from some guy saying he worked 30 years at a company just to get laid off right before retirement, so what’s the point. Jax asked me again, right there in the parking lot. I didn’t have a big answer. I was holding the iced coffee I’d just bought, and I handed it to him to take a sip. I said “I don’t know what’s gonna happen 30 years from now. But this coffee is really good right now, isn’t it? That’s enough for me today.” He took a sip, nodded, and we went in to buy the cleats.
I don’t know if I’m answering this question right for him. I don’t think there’s one right answer, anyway. But so far, he’s started adding his own little things to my notes app sometimes. His last entry was “Saw a raccoon stealing a slice of pizza from the picnic table at the park. Iconic.” That’s good enough for me, for now.
Please indicate: Thinking In Educating » What To Do When Your Teen Asks: Do People Really Find Life Worth Living