My Body Is a War Zone

Doctors and health gurus tell you to listen to your body, and that sounds reasonable until you put it into actual practice.The problem is that different parts of my body don’t all agree; in fact, they constantly argue with each other. Sometimes, it’s all-out war.

This morning my knees and legs told me to stay in my room. They said, “Don’t you dare go up and down those stairs again,” but then my stomach shouted, “It’s breakfast time; head down to the kitchen! Breakfast, breakfast, breakfast time!”

Then my lungs and heart entered the conversation, said that after breakfast it’d be good for my health to go outside to breathe in some fresh air and to engage in a little cardiovascular exercise. But the whole time that my lungs and heart were talking, my knees and legs were muttering, “Don’t do it; don’t you do it. You’ll be sorry.” Then my feet chimed in, “I’m with the knees and legs on this. You need to elevate us and stay in one place till we’ve gotten some rest.” Whom am I supposed to listen to?

I have the same problem with my tongue and stomach. My tongue says, “Eat more onions and garlic and chili peppers and BACON!” but my stomach says, “I don’t think so!” There’ve even been times when my tongue invited plates full of spicy, greasy food to a party in my stomach, and my stomach said, “Hey, this party’s gotten out of hand. Everybody out. And leave the way you came in.”

Maybe some of you think the solution is to listen to your brain—let it mediate when body parts have disputes. But my brain doesn’t speak with one voice. My brain has dozens of voices that constantly give me conflicting advice. Let me give you an example. My Addict brain (the Euphoria Center) says, “Eat more carrot cake muffins; that brown sugar taste is to die for.” But then my Superego brain (the Doctor/Authority voice) says, “It’s to die for all right. Do you know how bad that much sugar is for you?”

Addict: Don’t you see all the carrot bits in it? It’s good for you. It’s nutritious. The betacarotene is fantastic. Eat ’em for your eyes.

Superego: But with that much sugar, your eyes aren’t gonna live long enough to see the benefits.

Addict: Oh come on. If you’re gonna pass up carrot cake muffins, you might as well be dead already.

Superego: Quit trying to make me the bad guy. I’m just looking out for Bill. I’m not saying he should never eat a muffin; I’m just sayin’ one’s enough. Everything in moderation.

Addict: You’re an idiot. One muffin is just frustrating. He’ll never even get close to euphoria if he takes your advice.

Superego: He’ll live longer.

Addict: No he won’t. It’ll just feel longer.

Superego: That’s such a cliché.

You’re a cliché.

No, I’m not. You are.

No, you are, you chop-busting old nun.

Screw you, asshole.

There it is! Now you’ve shown your true colors, you bigot. . . .You’re demeaning the asshole. . . . And you know it’s just as important as any other body part. How long do you think we’d last without the asshole?

I give up, . . . moron!

Oh, I’m a moron, and like you’re a brain?

This is a typical exchange. As you can tell, it’s extremely complicated listening to your body. The same people who tell you to listen to your body will tell you to listen to your head, not your heart and sometimes vice versa. And even when I decide to listen to my brain over all my body’s other voices, it’s still a conundrum.

I can’t tell you how many times even my brain couldn’t make up its mind.

 

(My thanks to Wildacres Retreat, where this essay was written.)