Stay Away From Easy

I’m a sucker for the 90’s action movies. Jurassic Park, Hook, Tremors: they had maximum adrenaline without blatant swearing and sex intermingled with everything. One of my favorites is Independence Day. At one point, one of the main characters, David, is having a breakdown over the events of the movie, and his father is trying to “talk him off a ledge” metaphorically. David has lost his marriage, seen thousands of people die and knows that the entire human race is about to be destroyed by aliens. In the face of imminent annihilation, David’s father responds, “[At least] you still have your health!”

At least. In discussion with a friend the other day, he told me that “at least” in his mind is the worst phrase in the English language. Essentially what it means is that we’re not willing to validate whatever is being said or presented as a problem. As someone who craves validation, and needs little else to be sustained, I have to agree with him.

I’m an avid runner; there’s nothing that makes me happier or brings me better stress relief. I typically run about 25 miles a week and participate in several races every year. About 9 months ago, I injured my knee on a normal run and haven’t been able to run for more than 5 minutes without excruciating pain ever since then. I’ve done everything that I’ve been told, stumped multiple doctors, been dropped by my physical therapist because he ran out of ideas, and essentially am no closer to finding a solution. Whenever someone asks me about my next race and I start explaining my situation, I inevitably get a response along the lines of, “At least you can still walk. At least you’re still healthy. At least you haven’t done something really horrible to it. At least you can find something else to love.” While I know these people mean well, and while intellectually I know that they are right, it doesn’t mean that I don’t feel emotional and physical pain in association with this trial. It doesn’t mean that I’m being silly or petty or stupid. It’s real pain to me: it’s a real struggle. I have shed more tears over this injury than over most of my lost loves.

I don’t like the phrase “at least” for another reason too: I often use it to justify mediocrity in myself. When I don’t do as well as I should have – “At least I tried. Lots of people didn’t even try; I must be better than them.” When I do something I know I shouldn’t have – “At least I didn’t do something as horrible as that person. At least my bad choices don’t hurt a lot of people. I could have done something much worse; I must be better than them.”

I believe this line of thinking is destructive because we’re creating a measuring stick and shoving it next to people, including ourselves. A measuring stick for pain, strength, trials and other intangibles that were never meant to be measured or compared. Additionally, the very phrase means “at a minimum” meaning that I’m searching for the very worst case scenario and trying to be grateful that I’m not there. There is always something worse: it’s hardly something to aim for. I feel like it’s faking gratitude that we haven’t fallen as hard as somebody else, which is possibly the most uncharitable attitude one can have.

Real gratitude is something completely different. Real gratitude means being willing to try again and a little harder tomorrow. It means letting your challenges make you more tough and tender. It means being patient when those around you are struggling, because you remember what your struggles have done for you. It means, in the words of Sherrie Dew, that “…you can be frustrated with the delay without being worried about the outcome.” It means finding joy in the journey, lifting where you stand and genuinely believing with all your heart that things will work out eventually.

At least, that’s what I think.