The One Question To Ask Yourself To Avoid A Lifetime Of Hell And Grief

It's funny of how things work out. As someone who's been through a lot in her life, I would have never imagined the one question that would save me over forty years later. It wasn't until a few days ago that I realized why it worked and what my life would be like without it.

That decision is for me to make, but if you're about to embark on another journey of pain and suffering then maybe you should consider asking yourself: Does this matter?

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I was born into what is known as a broken home – my parents split before I turned two years old and divorced shortly thereafter. What I didn't know at the time was that it was just another day in paradise for my mother – the day my father took off she grabbed me, packed up, and hightailed it for Reno where she promptly found a new husband.

He didn't hold up to the role though. It wasn't long before I watched my mother leave my father and get remarried to a man she knew didn't want her. Of course I was more than happy to go live with my mother in Reno – at least I got to see her every day and that was more than enough of me.

I was ten years old when he died of a brain tumor – from what I was told he had lung cancer, but it was all so secretive that even though his family had known for months he actually died about two weeks prior. He was a few days shy of his 51st birthday, but I didn't have that many memories of him.

I was only eleven when my family packed up and moved back to California. My parents had to sell his house because my mother couldn't stand being in Nevada anymore – the memories were too much for her. I can still remember the way she cried at the way we had to move – grizzling about how it would cost so much money and how she was going to make sure we didn't have any fun whatsoever out there. It broke my heart because that was all I ever wanted – just fun.

We moved back and she promptly left us for a few days to run away with her new boyfriend. I spent the days before school started wandering the parking lots in our complex because I was lucky if my mother even made it home at night – I was just happy she was alive.

When school started I was on the first day, first hour of that first class standing all by myself while everyone else waited for their teacher to be done with some paperwork. It's amazing how someone can be so invisible that they don't even exist in their own world. It's also amazing how cruel children can be when given the opportunity.

"Where's your mommy?" the boy behind me asked.

Without turning around, I responded "My mother died when I was born." I didn't know why I said it, but that was all that came out. All that is except for a few tears which ran down my cheeks.

He didn't say another word to me – he just stared at me when I turned around and looked him in the eyes. If he had said something else – anything at all – maybe things would have worked out differently between us. Instead, he just turned back around and stared out the window like nothing had even happened.

That was the first time I ever felt alone.

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First off, it feels like you're invisible. You can be there and no one will notice you – people will just walk past you or step on your toes as if they didn't see you in front of them. Your presence is an afterthought.

It also feels like you can't get a break – no matter who you are, no matter what you've done, everyone around you keeps giving the breaks to someone else. It's very often that people treat the dead – or at least those who are losing their place in society.

It feels like all of your dreams are being crushed by other people's greed – all of your friends and family (since they're the ones making all of these decisions) think they know better than you do, but when it comes right down to it, they will always side with someone else – usually them.

It's a feeling that you can't escape – it binds you and holds you down so tightly that your whole life becomes an endless series of crushing blows. You never feel like you're getting anything done, and when it comes time to be judged, you know it won't matter because no one cares about the details. They only care about what they think they know about you from other people's opinions and judgments.

It feels like someone is stealing every opportunity from you – every chance at something great, every opportunity for happiness – always someone else.

It's like you want to commit suicide but you keep feeling like you're going to get pushed out of life before you can do it. You just want to be left alone – it's the only way out, but no matter how much of a fight you put up, everyone else just keeps pulling you back in. Even when they physically push on you, they're doing it so they can make sure that they have the last word and that their way is the only way.

In short, life feels like a giant thief who has never been caught and doesn't care who he hurts – that thief is called "Reality".

The One Question To Ask Yourself To Avoid A Lifetime Of Hell And Grief

The One Question To Ask Yourself To Avoid A Lifetime Of Hell And Grief

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