Hi readers.

Henry feeling scared and angsty is what I was feeling as I wrote this entry.

This occurred to me as I watching the end of S3 a few weeks ago- and I recall Henry handling his injuries seemingly well in 3.17 and 3.18. This is what could be bubbling underneath the Jason Bourne/Thomas Langdon exterior

Xox Brenda

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I am a former marine, and I work in intelligence. I can fire a gun, and I am a religious scholar. I was blessed with decent looks. I repair stuff around the house. I have an incredible wife and three gorgeous children. I am the son of a blue collar steel worker and union boss. By definition o should be a tough guy - and I should be pretty zen about it all. Oo- rah.

So why is it that lately I have nightmares and am recoiling at loud noises and feeling very mortal? I feel the hairs on my neck, I jump at little noises and I wake up terrified I can't breathe. I know why. It's PTSD. But why after this? Why this time?

I got shot a couple of weeks ago and I guess it's affecting me more than I thought. The kids don't know I was shot. They think I had a car accident. That's the story. Only Elizabeth and the folks at CIA and the White House know what happened

I know Elizabeth is worried about me - when she isn't completely pissed at me for risking my life. I can't fault her for that. I know she loves me and I scare her when I get hurt. Usually I soothe her when I return from a mission and she kisses me all better and I move on. But this time it's different.

I scared myself this time. And the bile rises in my throat and I feel powerless and I am not ready to die yet. Being in that car and feeling those bullets whiz past. I drove away through those barren trees in that dark forest thinking about making it home to my wife. My mind racing a thousand miles an hour. I didn't even know I had been shot until a few minutes after I got away and called Mo. I still don't really remember how I got to the hospital. I do remember my terrified wife racing to see me and her exasperated lecture to me. I can't blame her one little bit. I would have been worse if it was her lying there with her knee blown out. I am supposed to be this super supportive husband - but there are times I have failed at that. The most recent being back in 2005 when she was tapped to head up Baghdad station.

I feel like a hypocrite. I am the one everyone consults about religion. The guy who advises people about what to do in these situations. I offer advice and counsel. I know the tenets of every major religion on earth.

But I don't know exactly what will happen if I die. I am not ready to just leave Elizabeth and the kids. I know how unfinished and traumatized I would be if they found her in the woods in our car and I had no idea why she had been there. Damnit Journal I am repeating myself.

The thought of my kids seeing me at breakfast that morning and then imagining them having their mom sit them down with some cover story about how I died. I wonder if Jason would have finished that old engine I was asking him to help me with. What if I told him about my real job? I think these kids of ours are pretty suspicious and while this time they believe it was a car accident- they must talk about our crazy injuries.

I remember when Alison walked in on Elizabeth not long after she returned from Iran and saw the red fresh scar on Elizabeth's back. She cried and instead of scolding her for coming in to the bathroom a millisecond after she knocked - my wife lead Allie to the bed and they sat and cried together. My wife assured her that it would fade and that she wasn't always going to remember that her mom was injured on her birthday. Truth be told I don't think any of us save Jason will ever forget that day.

Jason does remember me going back in to the dirty bomb site. He does know I was mugged for his computer and he likely has put the news together with some of the days I was away at "religious conferences".

I grew up certain we would all end up in Heaven. That I would see Tommy there and the guys from my platoon - and my parents. I would meet my sweetheart's parents.

Now I have more questions than certainties. What does that say about me?

I don't want to be alone in death anymore than I want to be alone in life. I can't imagine how my father must have felt those last few weeks- after he learned that he had bankrupted himself giving his money to Deborah. He was lonely and wanted love and he must have felt such deep shame before he killed himself. I wish he could have reached out to us kids. What does it say about me that he couldn't tell me? Am I repeating this situation with my son...

My life is full of secrets. I am in my mid fifties and my kids don't know everything I wish they could. Classified dad. Will it matter that I wanted to serve my country? Will it factor in when the kids are wondering about why their dad died during a weekend with a think tank.

So when my kids find out what I am really doing behind their backs- will they need therapy? How Christian are my lies? Maybe the PTSD is punishment for my sins... I should go to church and confess and atone. Maybe I should tell Elizabeth and the kids everything. The trouble is I don't want to scare them. My wife knows there is more to my work as a marine, in the NSA and at DIA than I have told her; and she knows more than I was supposed to tell her. We talk to one another. We have almost gone to prison over it- a couple of times. Conrad and the DOJ never pursued it and we now have clearance to read one another in.

Still, I don't want to talk about how I spilled my travel mug of coffee when the neighbours dog barked at me unexpectedly this morning. How I feel so helpless with this cast and boot and these crutches.

I drove that truck bomb out to the field and people see me as a Jack Ryan type - but lately those heroics come with a thumping heart and fear. Palpable, sweaty shaky unwanted trembling fear.

Am I not supposed to be the man? The one who protects my family? I told this to my wife back in the fall when we had that stalker. All last summer and into October we had this creep after us and our kids. I felt powerless and now this. The kids trust us to chase the monsters away. We haven't been so good at that since we came to DC. Our whole family has been in danger and to some extent we all have fears about what can happen to a family in the public eye.

For a family that's in the public eye why did I feel so alone and helpless in the car in the woods?

Will I scare Elizabeth if I confess my weakness to her? Will she see me as the same Henry she's always loved.

I have to trust that the answer is yes. Logically I know it should be. I didn't see her as less than after Iran. I was angry only because I was worried about her.

So I guess I started with you journal. I will go to confession this weekend and I will talk to my wife.

Hank.