What To Do When Your Teen Asks: Do People Really Find Life Worth Living?
The pasta water was still draining in the sink when my 16-year-old leaned against the counter, phone still glowing in his hand, and asked, “Do people actually find life worth living?” He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t even upset, really, just sort of blank, the way he gets after scrolling through 45 minutes of doomer TikTok after school. Half his spaghetti was still in the bowl, his crumpled driver’s ed worksheet sat under a magnet on the fridge, and our golden retriever was chewing on a stray rubber band at our feet.
My first instinct was to panic. I’m a high school counselor, so I’ve done all the suicide prevention training, and my brain immediately jumped to the worst case. I almost blurted out the line we all want to say: Of course it is! Look at your friends, look at your skateboard, look at our dog! But I caught myself, wiped a smudge of tomato sauce off my hand, and leaned against the counter next to him. “What makes you ask that?” I said.
He turned his phone to show me a thread of comments from people in their 20s and 30s, all saying the same thing: they get up, go to work, pay their bills, wait for the weekend, and most days they just feel numb. No big excitement, no deep meaning, just getting by. “If that’s what all that work after high school gets me,” he said, “why bother going through all the stress of homework and tests and college applications just to end up numb?”
That conversation wasn’t the first time I’d gotten that question in the last six months. As a counselor working with 14 to 18 year olds, I’ve had at least a dozen kids ask me some version of it this school year. It’s not always a cry for emergency help, though I always rule that out first, of course. More often than not, it’s kids being honest. They’ve grown up hearing about climate change and student debt and housing prices, and every time they turn on social media, they see adults complaining about how tired and broke they are. The polished “good life” we sell them feels like a lie, so they ask the obvious question: is this actually worth it?
The biggest mistake I see parents and teachers make with this question is rushing to fix it. We feel like we have to give a big, inspiring answer that proves everything is great, or dismiss the question as teen angst that will go away on its own. But that just makes kids shut down. They know we’re lying when we say every day is amazing, because they see us stressed about bills and work too.
What works, more often than not, is small, honest, unglamorous. After my son asked me that night, I sat down on the floor next to the retriever instead of giving him a speech. I said, “You know what? Most days I don’t wake up feeling like life is this huge, awesome adventure. Some days I just check things off a list: answer emails, pick up groceries, remember to buy your deodorant. But I don’t need big meaning every single day. There are these tiny stupid things that make it worth getting up for. This morning, you left half your pop tart on the plate for the dog, and he ate it crumb by crumb on the porch without getting any on the rug. That was dumb, but it made me smile for 10 whole minutes. That’s enough for me some days.”
He stared at me for a second, then laughed. He said, “Oh, I guess that thing when we get boba after your shift and the old guy at the shop remembers you want extra pearls? That’s pretty nice. And when we get snow and the neighborhood closes the main street and everyone skates down the hill? That’s good.”
That’s it. We didn’t have a big breakthrough that night. We loaded the dishwasher, watched an episode of that silly animated show he likes, and ate leftover cookies for dessert. But what I’ve learned, both at work and at home, is that this question doesn’t need a big, perfect answer. It just needs you to not run from it.
A few concrete things that have worked for me, over and over. First, always start with “That’s a fair question. I’ve wondered that too.” It doesn’t mean you agree life isn’t worth living, it just means you don’t think their question is crazy or overdramatic. Second, skip the big achievements. Don’t talk about getting into college or getting a promotion or buying a house. Talk about the 10 minutes of coffee you drink alone on the porch before everyone wakes up, or the way your favorite song comes on the radio right when you need it, or the student at work that always tells you a bad joke. Third, after you share one small thing from your life, ask them to share theirs. Don’t push if they don’t want to, but just opening the door lets them start looking for those things on their own.
Last month, a 10th grader told me the only thing that gets her through bad weeks is the 10 minutes she spends after school sitting in her mom’s car before going inside, eating a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and listening to her favorite podcast. That’s all she had. That was enough for that day.
Some weeks are still hard. My son still asks that question sometimes, usually after a bad test or a fight with a friend. I still wonder it myself some months, when the car breaks down and the water heater leaks and everything feels like a slog. I don’t think anyone ever gets a permanent answer that fits every day. But we don’t need one. Right now, we’ve got our boba with extra pearls, our dog that steals pop tarts, and 10 minutes of silly TV after dinner. That’s enough for now.
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