In the jet city of love
Northwest in the evergreen state
People can’t get enough
Of living in the darkness and the rain
But when the sun comes up
The streets are filled with songs
Of people playing it loud
So the whole world can sing along
Yeah
And the cops go screaming by on the 99
And there’s a man with a smile and his guitar on
And he’s holding a sign
And it says
Vagabonds and troubadours
Built this city on punk rock chords
And I for one cannot ignore the facts
Yeah
So we will make music
’til no one refuses
We will take our airwaves back
Vagabonds by The Classic Crime
Remorse. Guilt. They always went hand in hand for me. They do for most people.
Remorse – deep and painful regret for wrongdoing
The definition itself disagrees with the guilt connection. Regret.
Regret – to think of with a sense of loss
This is incredibly different from how I defined this feeling I had so often. Guilt. A downward spiral of eternal frustration and disappointment with past decisions. I feel remorse in regards to my former self. To the choices I made that have shaped where I am now. A deep and painful sense of loss for wrongdoing. So often I find myself trying desperately to reach a hand out of this powerful despair I’ve sunk down into. Grasping desperately for a low hanging branch, giving hope for release. But I sink. Scratch that. I dive. Down I go, taking the shovel and creating a pit deeper than any light can penetrate. Away from all hope. Away from all sense of peace.
Lies. I believed all of this because I was willing to believe the worst about myself. I was willing to believe I could never succeed. So why try? I can be anything. That line didn’t belong to me. I was too imperfect to live in such a fantasy. Others have the opening to press forward into where they want to be. Not today.
Over the last month I have seen an incredible change. A complete revamping of my self-worth. Through no fault of my own, I believe in myself. In this life that happened to begin the same night I was born. There is an actual light to the world I haven’t seen in a long time. And I didn’t find it in church.
I’ve had a recurring dream over the last couple of years. A group of friends. A light brighter, clearer than this dark, misty existence I’ve called home. My wife and I are surrounded by a collection of people who speak their truth with an understanding of true imperfect perfection. I always believed this must be found at church. So far, no dice. I believe in fellowship. I believe in a gathering for the enrichment of ourselves and each other. I believe in people. To this day, I have yet to enter a church with a true fellowship of believers. I’ve caught glimpses. A brief flicker of God’s love.
I love the idea of Seattle. Music in the streets. Coffee. Rain. What could be better? But I’ve never been there. All I have to go off of is rumors and song lyrics. Vagabonds.
Vagabond – leading an unsettled or carefree life
Carefree. Relaxed. Trusting in yourself. How can you relax if you don’t trust that you’ll catch yourself? You can’t relax unless you know you’ll land softly. It’s a big fall. Cascading down the flow of life. If you let yourself drop into relaxation, you might break. That’s a chance you have to take. I want music. Surrounding the lives passing throughout the city. Brightness resounding off the strings. Rejuvenating the dead. Pulling heartache from their chests. Transforming into poetry.
I don’t love my city. And I can’t place why. Too much history? I’m seeing my life differently. My world has shifted. It makes sense I would be uncomfortable here. That I would also want a change of scenery. But to leave those who I love my dear? My family. My wife’s family. My small collection of friends. No. I can’t. Not now. But maybe….
Maybe. A death word. A dream smasher. Maybe. A hypothetical yes to deceive your desperate soul that you might follow through on a dream that scares the shit out of you. Planning a route while you escape in the opposite direction. Maybe.
There’s a fire. It burns in everyone. That one hope, dream, desire that you just can’t quite make happen. My desire? To succeed. And I don’t just mean at work. I mean to win life. Full confidence in every aspect of what I pursue. My wife. My children. My work. No second-guessing my choices. Accept that I am solid. That I am able to choose wisely and follow through. That I will do my best with what I know.
Does this mean taking a fresh start? I’m heading where I want right now. Why rush? If I uproot now, I might lose it all. I have no idea where to go. I’d be running. Again. But that doesn’t mean I’m giving up on my dream. I’m planning. Focus on my life. Plan for the future. Nothing wrong with that.
My belief growing up was that planning for the future meant you weren’t trusting God. You were making your own destiny. Not following God’s plan for your life. What a ridiculous idea. I’m not going to sit on the couch and expect God to move me. I stand up. I start moving and trust He’ll select the angle. Plan for the future. Be open to changes.
Remorse. It comes from a place of seeing the paths and not trusting in yourself. Selecting a direction that goes away from where you wanted. But you won’t always know what is best. Take what you choose and own it. Be open to changes. You don’t always have to get it right. You won’t always get it right. Own it.
The Therapy Sessions 