What IS the Value of Life? {My Story}

Just yesterday, I had told a guy I am seeing that I used to believe and feel like I was garbage.

When I said it, it felt foreign to come out of my mouth.

To finally be a woman that no longer believes such words – I felt weird as hell.

All my life, all I have ever known is hating myself.

Can you relate?

Do you know someone who can?

I always wondered what, if any, significance does my existence have on this earth. I think I thought more about it than most kids way back when. Now, I have spent 25 years (almost 26 come March) trying to figure out how to love myself, and how to value my own life altogether.

So, I will admit that I am someone who smiles despite ages of suppressed pain and trauma, a bulky, botched past and an effort to add some glitter to the present, despite the heavy storms still being blown my way.

I have had fucked up things happen to me, and I have done some fucked up things.

At times, I look up to the sky and wonder, who (if anyone) is truly judging me.

I hope so.

For me to not care about how I live the rest of my life would make it worthless; in that case, I might as well throw in the towel right now. I refuse to not care. I care. I care very much.


There were days…

There were days when I didn’t, and death seemed like a friend who was so distant, hard to understand and reach, but very near.

In 2018, the worst year of my 20’s so far, I finally realized that my life is definitely bigger than me. I think as a society, our addiction to both selfishness and self-hate serves as a contradictory cocktail, keeping our eyes blind from the fact that no matter what religion we serve, what country we represent, what language we speak or whatever is the color of our skin – what we do in this life – matters very much.

We cannot focus on the past, because it happened already, and there isn’t shit you can do about that.

We cannot worry about the future, or even the inevitable “afterlife,” because we have no say in it anyway.

So, why NOT care? Why NOT see the preciousness in each breath that we take? Why not see how beautiful we are?

Why continue to hate who you see in the mirror, just because your sadness has become so safe, so predictable and so comfortable?

Yes, this applies to you. You, reading this. Yes, you.

YOUR LIFE MATTERS, if you did not already know, or just needed a light reminder.

So, GO.



Until next time.


R.K.B. is an award winning self-published Author, Poet and Entrepreneur from Detroit, Michigan.

Visit her website to learn more, and stay updated on her upcoming works and events: http://www.intomywoods.com !



  1. I can totally relate to spending the bulk of my life hating myself. Your words are so true: “So, why NOT care? Why NOT see the preciousness in each breath that we take? Why not see how beautiful we are?” Life is so precious, and I am so thankful that I am a living, breathing example that second chances are possible for those of us who have survived (and are surviving) mental illness.

    Thanks so much for sharing this!


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