At Least

By Emily Katherine McLean

I have lost a lot of hair, and I have just enough to curl

I have double vision, and I can see well enough to recognize faces

Some friends have grown closer this year, and some have drifted away.

I don’t have the energy I used to, and I can still teach a high school dance class

I cherish the opportunities I have to pour into my dance students and family, and I ache to have a child of my own.

I often feel lonely and aimless, and I have a wonderful, loving husband.

I struggle to get out of bed each day…and that’s a fact.

Over the past six months (which has felt like six years), I have been doing a lot of work toward my emotional and mental health - how couldn’t I? When life hands you lemons, you make lemonade, right? But what about when life hands you a pile of sh*t? What can you do with that?

You can do your best.

In a culture that constantly pushes positivity to the point of dishonesty, it has been difficult to have real conversations around how I’m doing. I find myself feeling the urge to end conversations with, “but at least I have _____,” as if the positives in my life should outweigh or at least minimize the gravity of my pain. I heard the phrase “at least” much more from people in the beginning, but then I started thinking and saying it myself in an effort to seem more pleasant and grateful…as if it was my job to make my cancer journey sound more palatable to the people around me. But that’s not an honest way to live. That’s not real. I’m choosing to fight that toxic positivity narrative, choosing to say “and” instead of “but at least,” letting the darkness and light in my life coexist, not dismissing the darkness just because it’s hard to face.

I usually have more questions than answers. Sometimes God feels so distant and my life feels so pointless, and I know it wouldn’t be healthy to bury those feelings. I’m learning to pray ugly prayers and have ugly conversations. And there’s beauty in that kind of honesty. There’s beauty in pressing in to what I believe to be true while recognizing there’s still so much I can’t understand. Sometimes the best and most honest prayer I can muster up is “God, you’re here, and so am I.”

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“At Least” a poem by Emily McLean

Some words should never meet

To start a sentence of advice

Or a word of consolation

Because it never comes out nice

To a hearer who is suffering

Few words bring any peace

And worst of all is hearing

Someone say the phrase “at least…”

“At least they caught it early” or

“At least you’re still alive” or

“At least you have community”

Look, I’m just struggling to survive

While there’s reason to be grateful

It doesn’t take away the pain

As if counting up my blessings

Could pull my life out of the drain

Yes, we ought  to live with thankful hearts

But even those will break

So forgive me when I scream

Because life is more than I can take

I cling to God above

The One who truly understands

For didn’t Jesus live and die

To hold our hurting hands?

He didn’t drown our pain out

By lecturing our grief

He came and suffered just like us,

Died hanging by a thief

No person here can fully know

What breaks my heart in two

But if you’re a sufferer like me

These words are meant for you

Your pain is real and seen

As you battle with this beast

God’s with you in the moments

You hear people say “At least…”