I suspect the pattern arose so I would feel prepared for any outcome; I’ve been blindsided a few times in life. But the net effect was that rather than dying once, I, or my son, or my husband, died hundreds of times. Not a helpful outcome, either for sleep or psyche.
Come to discover, if I leave the thought train alone–if I do not suppress it, or try to quiet the mind in any way, but simply notice, and acknowledge, the train rumbles right on by, off into its own dark and unpleasant future.
I remain right here, face against the soft pillowcase my sister made me, under the warmth of our downy, with my husband breathing evenly, quietly, beside me.
When thoughts are neither followed nor denied, they die of neglect.