Episode Thirteen: Vice Versa Vertue

Recovery Escapades:
A Newsletter Of 2nd Chance Life Across Cardiac County Line Road

Episode Thirteen: Vice Versa Vertue

I prepared for my heart surgery by dropping 114 pounds, getting off two asthma meds, an acid reflux Rx, eliminating my sleep apnea, getting off high blood pressure meds and a severe anxiety Rx. And I did this by diet and exercise after decades of sedentary lifestyle. While undergoing an acrimonious divorce, to boot.

I promised in an earlier post to reveal to you my secret arsenal of strength that got me ready for heart surgery.

Below are the powerful forces that aided me in making huge life changes; these soliders of internal fortitude were the fighting force under joint command of myself and trainer ranger buddy Torkey the Terrible (aka Torquemada the Torturer). These are my Mighty Morphin Rangers of power:

1. Procrastination.
2. Laziness.
3. Fear.
4. A tiny dollop of will.

Note on #4: this is NOT what Nietzcheans call "Uberman Will To Power". Nah, just a lowercase 'w' snack portion sized chunka will, best labelled as tepid warmed over good intentions.

Great. This was my dream team of internal soldiers to fight for lifestyle change.

This was my army of invincibles, come time to make war within myself for a lifestyle change, for a shakedown makeover to prepare me for open heart surgery. To get me from living in a State of Inertia to a State of Readiness.

George Bush's secretary of defense Donald Rumsfeld said you go to war with the army you have, not the one you need. At least he was right about that one thing. Too bad about everything (and I do mean everything) else.

Well I had to use what soldiers I had inside to go to war with the Kingdom of Inertia. Inertia, our unofficial 51st state, and my State of Dissolution. And then it ocurred to me - the old kids game of rocks paper scissors. As a strategy for creating the Will to Fight.

Ends up Fear could overpower Lazy by whispering "You're gonna die if you don't get fit. Or worse, have a stroke and wear a drool cup strapped under your chin with duct tape to catch the spittle while you lie in bed waiting to die".

Yow, scary. Scary enough to scramble up some action.

Fine start, now that Fear had given a proper whuppin to Lazy. But that's only a start, not enough to get across the finish line. Evil internal Overlord Procrastinator still reigned and had to be trumped - but how?

Well turns out that an hour of exercise immediately on rising from sleep could burn off more fat than 2 or 3 hours at night. So somebody was going to whisper strategic disinformation into Lazy's ear. True information, just "dissing" type info, in street lingo terms.

Ever see a nasty barfight at a beer joint? Admit it or not, barfights they go on inside your head, at neural junction hangouts for pending decisions. They start with a whisper into some drunk jerk's ear.

So somebody whispers into Mr Lazy's ear saying "Hey, that dude Mr Procrasinator on the other side of the bar, he says he's Top Dog around here. He says you better not even whimper at doing twice as much exercise later tonight. 'Cause that's the timing Mr Procrastinator wants and what Mr Procrastinator wants he gets. He says way past time for Mr Lazy to suck it up and do a doggie submission display - lay down and bare some throat, roll over - capiche? Geez, what kinda guy says that to everybody in earshot 'cept for you? The ladies, they were sure laughing their butts off at your for that one. At least the hottie ones were laughing. Them coyote uglies, at least they was sympathetic for you. Hey Mr Lazy, no way would I call you a Total Loser - I mean not like, you know, a complete Total Loser."

And such is how seeds of productive intra-psyche conflict are laid into the soil of one's soul.

The reigning regions of your brain ought to be named not medulla or cortex or frontal lobe. Instead they should carry monikers like those blinking above the doorway of small town county line watering holes - beer joints as we call 'em down in Texas.

Call one of these joints in your head the "Hell No We Don't Go" tavern, which shares a common dance floor with the "My Way or the Highway" saloon right next door. These two areas of your brain are beer joints where two cliques of self-sorry stick-in-the-muds glare at each other through a shared cutout in the fire code wall that divides these establishments. Left and right lobes of your brain, as it were.

Enough to say that from such straegic whispers, a big barfight done broke out in my head every morning come time to rise shine and exercise. A dirty eye-gouging street fight between Mr Lazy and Mr Procrastinator come every dawn. Before dawn, actually - what time the military type folk call "Oh Dark Thirty", about 30 minutes before sunrise, the darkest time to the human eye and soul and the will to rise.

This daily barfight starts and spills over onto the shared dance-around floor. Then it goes from the original establishment of Inertial Resistance To Improvement over to the joint next door that is selling the same Elixir of Excuses. All this was goin' on in mah haid, come every mornin' time. A self induced hangover of sorts, but with a solemn purpose in mind.

Not always but more often than not, Mr Lazy busted a longneck bottle over the head of Mr Procrastinator. Jim Croce would be delighted were he around to see it. Jim Croce would have stayed alive just to write another song about it; I can almost hear in in my head, over the jukebox as these two start to fighting.

See, I decided that hard changes made on an uphill grade, they are all about egging on two skunk-striped stupid small town bullies into a right proper barfight. In the end, the village is all the better off once they finish each other off. Despite all the broken furniture and cleanup cost.

Or look at it like a rewrite of the Godzilla monster movie where King Kong stops Godzilla from stomping the crap out of Tokyo. Godzilla he gets all upset about Tokyo wanting to change a few things for the better. And the only thing on hand to stop Godzilla besides lotsa too-little people was King Kong, asleep on his island.

One ticked off Godzilla. One cranky, irascible King Kong wanting not to be bothered. And many Lilliputians of virtue wanting effective change, but drenched in hopeless despair. Sounds a lot like the American body politic and our Two Party System to me.

This ain't gonna end well 'cept as a chance for Home Depot and Lowes to open new stores for the rebuilding of a stomped over Tokyo. Not unless the right spin is put on it. But before the Japanese home remodelling industry can rebound, you gotta rightly pit monster against monster. Vice against vice.

Let Godzilla and King Kong wear each other out as enemies. Then my internal Lilliputians of good will and virtue can move in for the kill. Then it becomes as easy as cowtipping. Worked for me, can work for you if you spin it right. That's the trick, to trick yourself into doing the right thing at the right time.

If only all of life's sucky stuck scenarios could be so deftly managed into a funny cartoon denouement. Try this one out, and if it works there's no charge owed me 'cept to tell folks where you got the idea - from this side of Cardiac County Line Road.

Yours Truly and Ridiculously
From Across Cardiac County Line Road,

James Sullivan