The worst part is laying down at night. For some people,
climbing into bed is the best part of their evenings. They are tired and worn
out and physically exhausted. They can’t wait to lay their head down and fall
asleep. Other people don’t even need to climb into bed. They can close their
eyes and dose off no matter where they are. Laying down and falling asleep are
synonymous to them. Not me. No, not me. Laying down is when it all begins. In
the dark and the quiet with the blankets pulled up to my chin, my pillow
crooked under my arm and my sweatshirt held tight in my hand I lay down and
wait. I wait for sleep to take over. I squeeze my eyes shut tight and clench my
fists around fabric, waiting. When that doesn’t work I try to be as still and
relaxed as possible. One might think I am buried under all my pillows but I
loosen up my muscles so much I need the pillows to support my head in the right
position. The right position for what? Waiting? What is it I am waiting for? Is
there a protocol for this?
Calling it anxiety seems so medical, so scripted, so
dramatic, so cliché. Let me explain the waiting instead. I hope sleep will take
me before my thoughts creep in but lately, that hasn’t been possible. So I
wait. I start to think of what my life might be like in a new city, making new
friends, learning a new job. I start to think of how I might introduce myself to
old friends and acquaintances if I come home for a visit. “Oh yes, well I moved
to Virginia for graduate school and now I live in ____________. I work at a
university there. What is it that you do?” The last question is important. I
practice that over and over. I need to ask that to whoever I am talking to
because I don’t have all the answers to explain what they might try to ask me.
Do I like it? Am I happy? Where are my favorite places to eat? How has it been
meeting people? Don’t you miss your family? Was it worth it to move away? How
long have you been gone?
During the day I have all of the answers but at night I wait,
tossing and turning, for the right words to come. I’m not a person who makes
choices based on gut feelings very often but even if I could feel something maybe I could stop
waiting. I start to remember what my life was like before. Before graduate
school, sometimes before college even. I remember what it was like before I had
a dream for my future. I think of the friends who I laughed with and where they
might be now. I reminisce of old boyfriends, what our lives were like, and how
they might be if we were still together. What if we had fought instead and I
didn’t go away that day? What if I had ruined cutting his hair again, like he
knew I would, and he brought me with him? What if I had said no? What if I had
said yes? What if he ever even asked at all?
During the day I never wish my life to be any different than
it is but as I wait the what ifs haunt me and I fall deeper and deeper into the
trap of questioning who I am and where I have been and what I am doing. The
good news is that I eventually fall so deep, so far into this other world I
have created out of hopes and memories and fears and fate, that it finally
happens. I fall asleep. I never remember it taking over. I never feel the peace
of being at rest. I fall into my life-like nightmare and stay there until I
wake up. In the morning I shake my head and wonder, “Did this really happen
another night in a row?” and forget about it. I forget until that time comes
again. I find myself avoiding my bedroom and finding other things I need to do just one
more time – pay a bill, check Facebook, wash a dish, get some water – but then
I wait.
Not tonight. Tonight I pray.
