For anyone out there who feels like choosing themselves comes with a guilt tax… I see u. I spent most of my life thinking self-reflection was just selfishness in better lighting. Turns out, it’s not narcissism.. it’s humanity finally catching its breath.
We all move through chaos we didn’t sign up for, carrying weight we were never trained to lift, smiling politely while internally duct-taping the fractures & hoping no one notices the noise. Life doesn’t come with a flight manual.. just moments that test u when u’re already exhausted.
What I didn’t understand until recently is this.. seeing the depth of ur own chaos isn’t a flaw. It’s a gift. Awareness doesn’t break u. Avoidance does. And I see a lot of ppl fighting themselves lately.. so this is for anyone who needs permission to stop running.
This is what that realization sounded like when it finally landed.
When I first came across Carla, she was speaking about the Idaho 4 case. I was in Italy on deployment.. though if I’m honest, I’ve been living in an on again, off again cycle of deployments since October 2024. Somewhere between time zones, uniforms, & bone-deep exhaustion, I stumbled into her words.
I reached out out of curiosity. I’ve always been drawn to the spiritual side of things. I grew up Christian in a strict household… while also somehow being in a heavy metal band throughout my teens. That tension followed me into adulthood. As I got older, I questioned everything.. the world, the unknown, what’s taught, what’s felt, what’s real.
Then life did what life does. Career. Kids. Navy. Responsibility. I was living.. but not deliberately. Surviving, not listening.
Then I started connecting with Carla, & something unlocked. Something I still struggle to explain without sounding like I should be escorted gently to a padded room. But here’s the truth.. she didn’t put anything in me. She helped me remember what was already there.
She calls me her gift.. but really, she was the buried treasure. The reminder of a faith I never lost… I just stopped reaching for.
The song I sent her this morning came together in about an hour.. writing it, finding the right key on the guitar, hitting record, & letting it pour out. It didn’t come from nowhere. It came full circle, like something that had been orbiting my soul for years finally decided it was time to land.
(It’s not a studio track .. so forgive the echo. I cleaned it up as best I could without it turning into static chaos)
This story really begins with dreams.
Carla told me to stop outrunning them & actually listen.
There was 1 dream I joked about at 1st.. I was standing on a snow-covered mountain in shorts & a T-shirt, completely exposed, looking out over everything. After that… the nightmares began.
The last 1 hit differently. I had fallen asleep again in the cockpit of the P-8. When the nightmare returned, I wasn’t afraid anymore. I chose to face it.
That’s when I saw what I’d been avoiding.
The figure holding me down.. the 1 I thought I feared.. wasn’t there to hurt me.
It was Eric.
(My wingman. December 2024)
And the truth was devastatingly simple
I wasn’t being held down.
I was holding everything in.
I never let myself grieve him. I just kept moving. Back-2-back deployments. Volunteering before anyone could ask. Control became my armor. Reflection felt dangerous.
There’s a reason the military doesn’t let people live like that forever.. it fractures something inside u. I think I’ve been carrying those fractures quietly ever since the Red Sea ops, blaming myself every time.
In the dream, the msg was clear.. I’ve always tried to save ppl. I’ve always stepped into the crossfire for others. Again & again.
What I never did… was choose myself.
What happened recently.. the interception that unfolded.. mirrored everything. Different place. Same weight. Same responsibility. Same instinct to carry it alone. That night was the first time I truly slept afterward.
And it finally clicked.
That’s why the song opens with:
“Funny thing about flying… u learn control real early.”
Control has been my survival language my entire life.
The lines..
“No face, no promise, no rescue scene…
every word you said hit hard
like it knew where I’d been”
..that’s real.
Carla didn’t chase me. She didn’t corner me. She didn’t try to fix me. She stood there, unafraid, while my guard fell apart. And she said, simply: “I hope u choose u.”
The bridge..
“If this cracks me open… good.
I’ve been sealed up way too long.”
.. that was Eric telling me it’s okay to feel. That feeling doesn’t make me weak.. it makes me human. He told me what happened was never my fault. That he still looks up to me… but he couldn’t watch me punish myself anymore.
The line..
“I fight the fall, I fight the pull, fight anything that feels too real”
.. that’s exactly what he called out in me.
And then… there’s Carla.
“U say my name like you know me naked.. no brakes, no fear, just patience.”
That’s all her.
Eric was with me almost 2yrs. He felt like my son. Losing him changed me in ways I refused to acknowledge. And Carla.. without forcing anything.. helped me touch the place I kept locked away.
So the last line had to be this:
I don’t land easy.
I don’t stay brave.
But I touch down hard
every time you say it…
that way.
Because for the first time in my life, landing doesn’t feel like impact.
It feels like arrival.
Cmdr Douglas Outlaw
Chicago, IL
