Why Do Teens Ask “Do People Really Find Life Worth Living?” What Caregivers Can Do
The dishwasher tab was stuck under the plastic rack, I was yanking at it with a butter knife, crumbs from our beef tacos crunched under my socks, and our golden retriever was inches away from stealing the half-eaten shell Lila left on the counter. That’s when she said it, scrolling TikTok with her shoulder propped against the fridge, voice totally flat, no drama: “Do people really find life worth living?”
I froze, almost dropped the knife. I’ve been a high school English teacher for 12 years, and I’ve heard that question from students a dozen times, but it still knocks the wind out of you when it comes from your own 16-year-old. My first instinct was the one most of us have: laugh it off, say of course it is, list all the great things coming her way—college, travel, a job she loves, all that. But I remembered the last time a student asked me that, back in March, and how I’d done exactly that, and she’d just nodded, closed her notebook, and never brought it up again. So I left the dishwasher tab stuck, wiped my hand on my jeans, and sat down on the floor next to the dog.
“What made you ask that?” I said. She turned the phone around to show me a screenshot of a Reddit thread, titled “What’s the point of it all?” The top comment said “Most of us just work 40 hours a week to pay rent and wait for the weekend. No one actually enjoys most of life. We just pretend so we don’t scare the kids.” Lila shrugged. “A lot of people agreed. Is that true?”
I didn’t give her the polished speech I’d rehearsed a hundred times for parent nights. I told her the truth. “It’s true for a lot of people, some days. It’s true for me, some days. Last week, I spent three nights grading research papers all turned in at 11:59 pm the day they were due, I had to fill the car with gas twice, I forgot to buy milk for three days, and by Thursday night I was sitting on the couch just scrolling my phone thinking ‘Is this it?’”
I paused, and scratched the dog behind his ear. “But that’s not all of it. Yesterday, when I dropped you off at school, I stopped at the gas station on 5th, and the old guy who works the morning shift gave me a free lemon poppy seed muffin. His wife made too many for their church bake sale, and he couldn’t take another one home. It was still warm. That was worth showing up for that day, right there.”
Lila was quiet for a minute, twisting her phone case between her fingers. “Last month when we had that rainstorm, we watched that bad Twilight movie and you ate all the good caramel popcorn and I still laughed so hard I snort-laughed. That was good.” Then she got up, pulled a granola bar out of the pantry, and went to her room to finish her AP Bio homework. No big breakthrough, no tearful hug, just that.
Over the years, I’ve learned that this question isn’t usually a cry for help—though it always pays to check. That’s the first concrete thing I tell other parents and new teachers I work with: after they ask, stop and say “Can I ask you straight—are you thinking about hurting yourself?” It’s not awkward, it’s not going to put the idea in their head. If they say yes, you get them to a professional that day. If they say no, like Lila did, it’s just a question, a normal developmental step. Teens are just now figuring out that the stories we tell about adulthood—happy marriage, dream career, perfect vacations—aren’t the whole truth. Most of life is unglamorous, repetitive, a lot of work. They’re noticing that, and they’re asking if it’s still worth it. That’s normal, not a sign you’ve messed up.
The second thing: don’t lie to them. Don’t say every day is amazing and everything works out for the best. They can tell you’re faking it, and they’ll shut down. Instead, tell the unpolished truth. It’s okay to admit that some days feel like a loop of work and chores and nothing else. That’s relatable. Then, point to the small, boring good stuff that no one posts about. Not the graduation or the promotion or the beach trip. The warm muffin, the snort-laugh during a bad movie, the way your favorite hoodie smells after you wash it, the friend that texts you a dumb cat meme when you’re bored in class. Those are the things that add up, not the big milestones that happen once every few years.
Third thing: you don’t have to solve it. You don’t need to have a perfect answer to send them on their way. If they still say they don’t get it, just say “That’s okay. I still don’t get it some days too. Wanna get a snack?” That’s enough.
Last week, we were stuck in traffic on the way to soccer practice, and Lila brought it up again. “I still think most people are just faking it,” she said, picking at a loose thread on her cleats. I agreed. “Probably a lot of them are,” I said. “Wanna pull off at that coffee shop on the corner? I need a latte, and you can get that pink sprinkle donut you like.” We sat in the parking lot for 15 minutes while traffic cleared, eating our donuts and listening to that new girl group she likes. She didn’t bring up the question again that day. I don’t expect her to have an answer any time soon, if ever. I don’t have a definitive one myself. But I know this is better than the old speech about how life is so wonderful and everything is worth it. It’s not, not always. But some days, there’s a warm muffin, or a donut, or a bad movie that makes you snort-laugh. That’s enough for now.
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