Before the crash

Sitting outside the pump house I gaze across the upside down L shaped lake. Sitting at the bottom end of the L my view holds two portions of the lake. The first part is directly in front of me. The other part I can see over the earthen damn to my left. It is a man made lake, with the sole purpose of providing irrigation water to the golf course. The earthen damn is covered with grown up brush. Across the lake directly in front of me is a small patch of young pine trees that sit back from the edge of the pond . These trees serve as a screen for a rough access road to that side of the lake. Behind that the North Carolina woods take over. Directly in front of me at the lakes edge are a couple of willows trying to make another go at life after being cut back. There are also several Silver leaf native grasses that screen me from the outside world driving by on the road above me and to the right. The grasses are bushy up to five feet but the seed heads reach up to fourteen feet. The purplish seed head rests on a long stalk of light green gently sways in the wind and the coarsness of the bunched up leaves below create a gentle rattle that captures my attention. This is the place I hold as a secret refuge.

I have to believe that this is going to help me
Am I meant to share
Am I meant to survive

I feel the fun part of my life has ended. I still have joy everyday through my children, but it is not a complete joy. I feel estranged from my wife. Sometimes I think she just ran out of love

I fight the fight. Now I write for the FuzZ

It kills me being out of love. Like a gas station out of gas. I want to be filled up but I have to fight for a gallon. Just enough to barely keep me going. Sometimes I feel like I am stuck in my broken childhood again.

I've let myself get out of control. Everybody is fooled- Nobody knows.
Work is a joke- I am on autopilot just like everybody else, but it is killing me. I try to turn it off I can't I say that I do turn it off but, I lie.

I would move into the pump house if I could. Becoming a true hermit with my own little cave. I can see me making it into a home.

The FuzZ has gathered forces. Depression and Shannon have joined forces on the other side. I didn't want to talk about S and I said I wouldn't but this is the pump house log- just another one of my little lies I guess. I must focus on more important things like balancing myself, I must think out my emotion or I am lost.

I look horrible- I feel the same. It is hard to pinpoint what is to blame. While watching an A&E biography on Bruce Lee I start to observe myself. Thirty Two with two kids a job a wife all happy. At a shim short of six foot the 240 lbs I wear shows. Lounged into the corner of the couch I look down at the white furry basketball that is my stomach and the chicken legs that connect to it. Who would be happy to come home to this.

I am now afraid. Before I was overwhelming full of optimism but now I fear the worst. Will I be unhappy, will I freak out. I can't imagine what is going to happen but I am filled with fear. I cant put my thoughts together, there is so much to think about. When I have some focus it feels like I am just holding on and my brain feels like a tiny bit of butter trying to be spread over a piece of burnt toast.