“What If” Night, Night sleep Tight Isn’t?

I am terrible at "going to bed”. I'm so-so at “staying asleep”, not terrible at “getting up” but it's certainly not my favorite part.

I don't remember if I've always been a terrible sleeper but I kind of remember that it was worse in high school. I have so many requirements for going to bed… I have to be really tired, the room has to be really dark, I have three pillows that have to be arranged perfectly and it has to be absolutely quiet…. no clock ticking… no repetitive music… no loud street sound. No TV.

And I found that when I'm alone in the dark, when I thought I was tired that my mind would start to race to the "what if’s”. “What if” he doesn’t really love me? “What if” I don’t get into college? "What if" I don't get that part in the play but she does? "What if" after that argument my friend hates me? Then my mind would start racing and I could never get to sleep but all of a sudden I realized that I had the opportunity to act out scenarios in my head and make them better. I'm an actor after all re-writing scenes and scripts should come naturally. So I was able to re-have that argument with somebody and say the thing I really wanted to say to make my point to make them change their mind and that didn't work I could re-work again until I did. I could run through the perfect date night, the perfect love story, and rewrite everything until it was better than it actually was. Before I knew it, I was fast asleep. Tomorrow I could do it all again.

This worked even as I got older with relationships and jobs and what I had done in that situation and what I should've said to that person… problems with Brian, problems with friends, reworking scenarios in my mind occupied me and kept the darker thoughts out of my head.

Even into my 50s I could go back to rework an argument I've had in my 20s with Peter, with Shelly, with whatever and make them better, or different and still fall asleep.

And that worked until Brian died. There was no way to go back to the "what if’s” and fix them. Reworking them, rethinking them, reliving them all just brought the same end. He died. “What if” I gone and picked him up that afternoon? "What if" I had gotten the call from hospital earlier? "What if" I’d spent more time sitting in his room? "What if" I’d ask more questions when the few medical staff came by when I was there? "What if" I’d understood better what they were doing? If I did, he'd still be alive.

"What if" during all the times in our 27 years together I had made a different choice in our arguments, in our silences, in our brokenness? If I did, he'd still be alive today. But all I saw in my head were the decisions I made that didn't save him. And all I saw in my head was the picture of him hooked up to more machines than I thought could possibly fit in one room. And all I saw in my head was Ian walking next to Brian’s bed as we walked him down that hallway those very last seconds. But all these thoughts came to the same conclusion. That it was my fault and I had let Brian down when he really needed me, and in all that I have made my son loose his father.

Yes, I think these thoughts during the day, but alone at night, in the dark, they're bigger and more powerful. And way more RIGHT.

And there’s no going back and fix the "what if’s" of Bret’s death. He came to Phoenix because I asked him to. He came even though he wasn't feeling well and I didn't take that seriously. I was running late so I left rather abruptly. I didn't even kiss him goodbye… how do you know the last time that you speak to somebody is going to be the last before they die? There's no way to rework that scenario so that it gets any better because he’s still dead. "What if" I came home at two instead of four? "What if" I had brought him with me? "What if" I had left Ian home with him? None of those have any better answers and they all come out to the fact that I lost a man who loved me better, harder, longer, deeper than any other human being on this earth and I am left with the regret that I'm not sure he felt that from me and I cannot go back and make sure he knew. And all I see in my head are the decisions that I made that day that in the end meant I didn't save him either.

When it's dark and it's quiet and I'm alone the "what if’s” come back. "What if" I'm alone for the rest of my life? "What if" Ian leaves on his own life and never comes back? "What if" it's because he doesn't want to? "What if" the REST of my "friends” leave me? And "what if" they don’t care. "What if" I'm stuck at this job that gives me so joy? "What if" I run out of money? "What if" my car needs to be replaced? "What if" the cat gets sick? "What if" I live to be 90? "What if" Ian dies first? "What if"I completely failed these men I loved deeply? "What if" this pain never stops? "What if" it's my only companion? “What if” I like it that way?

When I "go to bed” I am back alone with my thoughts and the "what if’s” have no better answers, have no better resolutions, have no better end. That's why I try not to “go to bed” I try to stay up all night long and watch television so that the thoughts can't find, me can't haunt me, can’t remind me.

But "what if" this is as good as it will get?