My Secret Grief: On The Outside Looking In

Prologue

The dirt crumbled beneath my fingers as I tried to climb out of the hole. I fell back down onto my butt and looked up. I could still see daylight -- to my relief, I wasn’t too far down in the darkness. No one knows I’m here - how the hell am I going to get out of here? I thought to myself. I could feel my anxiety creeping in, my heart racing, my breathing quicken, and beads of sweat forming on my face.

It was dark in the hole. I wiped the sweat from my forehead and could feel the dampness of my curly hair that rested on my neck- Gross. I sat there, contemplating my next move. Okay, let’s try this again, Jess. I dug my hands into the dirt, planted my foot into the wall, and tried to hoist myself up. Who are you kidding, fatso? What makes you think you can pull yourself out of here? I jabbed the dirt wall with my clenched fists several times until they ached, and I started rubbing them. I let out an agonizing, desperate, frustrated scream before I slumped down to the ground and began to sob. I started twirling my hair to calm myself down and think.

The deafening silence frightened me, and I twirled my hair more and more. When I finally stopped, I started stroking my hair at the top of my head with my thumb and index finger, section by section, until I found a thick, coarse piece of hair and plucked it from my head. I touched the root bulb to my lips; it felt wet, sticky, and satisfying; a little bit of calmness crept in.

Although I couldn’t see the hair in the darkness I was in, I bit off the bulb with my teeth and then proceeded to take tiny bites of the hair until it was gone, and I swallowed it. I then searched for my next piece of hair to satisfy my uncontrollable urge, and then another and another until my mania was satisfied. I thought I had put this ritual behind me. Long gone were the days of sitting in my closet fort after school, pulling out my hair to calm myself after being tormented all day by my bully, Kimmy. My trichotillomania was resurfacing, and I couldn’t stop it. How far would I go?

Thoughts and questions started racing through my head again. What about Vinny and mom? They don’t know I’m here. Are they even looking for me? How long have I been down here? I started to panic again; this time, I had my fingers in my mouth, my tongue tracing along the already jagged edge of my fingernail. I rubbed the end of my nail along the end of my teeth, trying to smooth it out. I bit off the dry skin along the sides of my nails and spit it out on the ground, then moving to the nail itself. I bit my fingernails down to nubs, painfully short and slightly bleeding. I worked so hard to grow my nails, and within a few minutes, my fingers were once again stubby, squared, and unfeminine. My chest was heaving, and I felt my heart beating fast and heard its echo in my ears. I stood up with tears streaming down my face. I started to yell. Help! Help! Can anyone hear me? Please, someone, help me! I’m down here. Please, anyone? My voice trembled. Can you hear me? I said in a weak, almost whisper tone. I sank to the ground in the fetal position, sobbing into the crook of my arm.

I sat up and wiped the tears from my face. Breathe Jessica. I took a deep, slow breath in through my nose while counting to five. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I held it for a count of two. One. Two. Then I released the breath slowly through my mouth for a count of five. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. I repeated the process several more times. My heartbeat regulated, and I wiped the last of my tears from my cheeks. I was feeling more focused, calm, and in control, and the anxiety subsided. I learned this technique in my psychiatrist’s office and used it often. Now in a more relaxed mindset, I recalled the events of the day.

I had driven from Lily Lake, the rural area where I live, to Chicago’s Western Suburbs, where I had grown up, about an hour and a half drive. I planned a surprise party for my brother Jason’s 50th birthday with help from my mom, half-sister Mindi, and Jason’s wife, Amber. He is a big fan of the Peanuts Gang, so it was only fitting we have a Peanut’s/Charlie Brown-themed party. Good Grief Jason’s 50, the invitations read. We are Irish Twins, siblings born in the same year.

Today, Jason’s 50th surprise birthday party went off as planned. We had it at our favorite restaurant, the Dog House. Even though they were famous for their hot dogs and beef sandwiches, their pizza was outstanding. I missed good Chicago Style Pizza since moving out to the country. This pizza had the most fantastic buttery, flaky crust, and they were generous with the toppings; mushrooms and pepperoni were my two favorites. The weather was beautiful for this mid-May day, not too hot with a gentle breeze blowing.

I asked to move the party outside onto the patio. I set up a gift and dessert table with my homemade decorated dark chocolate cupcakes topped with yellow frosting. I adorned the tables with yellow and black streamers and a Happy 50th Birthday sign.

I made little box favors that looked like Charlie Brown’s yellow t-shirt with black zig-zag stripe three-quarters of the way down to the bottom of the t-shirt. I filled them with candy, one for each guest, and placed them in front of everyone’s plate. I made two for Jason, one filled with candy rocks so he could quote Charlie Brown himself and say, I got a rock I knew that would make him chuckle. The other t-shirt box favor, just like everyone else’s, was filled with nostalgic candies from our childhood. Including Zots, candy buttons, Bazooka Bubble Gum, Wacky Wafers, Sixlets, BB Bats, Razzles, Chicklets, and liquid-filled wax bottles, just to name a few.

My half-sister, Mindi, of course, had her input. Mindi said I should have bought a cake and had it professionally decorated because my cupcakes are always dry, and they don’t look professional. Complete bullshit. Friends and family love my desserts and how cute I make everything look. But once again, I let her into my head. I blew it off and said, well, I was trying to save money. Mindi is four years older than me and not the older sister I had wanted. She always belittled me and picked on me, making me feel bad about myself and my talents. The worst thing was when we were young; she did it behind my mom and dad’s back, so she never got caught. She would whisper words in my ear like, why are you so fat? Or did you shower today? Because you stink. She did this every chance she got since I was about age seven or eight, maybe even before, I can’t remember. I never said anything to my parents because she threatened to physically hurt me if I did, rearrange my pretty face as she put it. Remember, snitches, get stitches. Followed by a pinch on my upper arm that left a bruise, which was always covered by my sleeve. I think she was jealous because she didn’t have an ounce of creativity, and being creative was my happy place, or maybe she just liked being mean.

I longed for the simpler days when we were kids, not having a care in the world outside playing with friends, the few I had, and just having a good time. We played tag, hide-and-seek, red light – green light, and mother, may I? These were some of my favorites. We explored our neighborhood both on foot and on our bikes. We went down to the pond to catch tadpoles or frogs, skip rocks and look for fossils and arrowheads. Sometimes I wished I could go back to the way things were, and sometimes I’m glad to be out of the growing pains.

Jason was enjoying the party; it was nice to have family and old friends together. He, indeed, was surprised. As he walked up to the restaurant, he saw his best friend, Tim, sitting at the patio table. At first, he didn’t put two and two together; he just thought it was a happy coincidence that Tim was there. As he looked around, he saw all of us, and we yelled surprise! I was kind of surprised that my mom didn’t let the cat out of the bag as she has a habit of sometimes doing.

The pizza was fantastic but spending time with friends and family was better. I missed my family more than I thought I would when we moved for Vinny’s job. Even though the drive was only an hour and a half away, it just wasn’t the same not having my family less than twenty minutes away, my mom’s rule - no one could live more than twenty minutes away from someone else. My mom enjoyed having her children and grandchildren close. If they needed her or she needed them, everyone was close enough to help each other out or simply get together for an impromptu dinner or game night. I broke the rule and tried to visit as much as possible.

We had fun reminiscing and remembering old stories of our childhood adventures with our friends. I grabbed a seat next to Tim, Jason’s best friend since the age of five.

Hi, Tim! How have you been?

Hi, Jessica! I’ve been well, busy with work; you know the usual. The kids are almost all grown up, my oldest boy is heading off to college this fall, and my youngest boy will be a senior in high school. He pulled out pictures from his wallet to show me.

Handsome, young men, I replied. They look just like you! I remember you and Jason played baseball every day in the summer from sun up to sundown. Do your boys play any sports?

Yeah, they are both into hockey and are quite good.

Tim, do you remember when we flooded the field next to our house and skated on it in the winter?

Yeah, that was fun! Remember the giant hill we used to sled down?

We had some great adventures!

I excused myself to mingle and check to see if anyone needed anything.

I was sure to take plenty of pictures to scrapbook later and make Jason a copy as well. It was kind of weird to be sitting there with childhood friends who all had kids of their own now, most of whom were getting ready to go off to college. Some of our friends were even becoming grandparents! Where had the time gone? I felt like I blinked and poof; I’m almost 50 myself! My thoughts wandered back to the same questions I’ve been asking for years and years; why hadn’t God blessed me with a family? I felt the all-familiar sensation of not being a mom well up inside of me. I excused myself to go to the restroom to collect myself, so I didn’t have a complete meltdown during Jason’s birthday party; I could do that when I got home.

The party was coming to an end. We were saying our good-byes, promising our friends not to let too much time pass before we saw each other again. Jason, who is usually reserved, was talkative and genuinely happy that his friends and family came out to celebrate him. My mission was complete, another successful, enjoyable party in the books. More importantly, I managed to get through a party without having a complete meltdown of my non-mom status.

I left for my hour and a half ride home back to the country and stopped for gas. When I got back on the road, I managed to get myself turned around and took a wrong turn. There were a lot of newly constructed homes. Land that was once vacant was now thriving with new subdivisions and unrecognizable. I drove around for forty-five minutes, nothing looked familiar, and it scared me. I finally found my way to the road I should have been on in the first place. I started my trek home. I wanted to get back before it became dark, I had a hard time seeing in the dark, and the pups still needed to be fed. I put my favorite Bruce Springsteen CD in the CD player and turned up the volume as the road home is relatively dull. The land is flat in the Midwest, just one farm after another, occasionally seeing some cows, sheep, horses, cornfields, and wind turbines.

***

As I sat staring in the darkness, I knew I had a choice to make. Remain here in the hole, sad, depressed, and unfulfilled, letting grief devour me or stand up, put on my big girl pants, and face my demons. Either road would not be easy and have its own set of obstacles. Would I take anyone on this journey with me? Would it lead to my demise, or would it lead me to victory?

Jessica’s Dark Chocolate Cake

Anyone can pick up a boxed cake mix and bake a cake. Boxed cake mixes have come a long way, but for me, nothing replaces a cake made from scratch because you can’t package love, and love is the ingredient that makes a recipe special. I made this cake from scratch for you because I love you.

Jessica Fontana

Ingredients:

2 cups of sugar

1-3/4 cups all-purpose flour

3/4 cup dark cocoa powder

1-1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1-1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon salt

2 eggs

1 cup whole milk

2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1/2 cup vegetable oil

1/4 cup hot black coffee (optional)*

3/4 cup boiling water (if not using coffee, increase boiling water to 1 cup)*

Directions:

Pre-heat oven to 350 degrees. Spray 9 x 13 pan with Pam cooking spray (bottom and all sides). This can also be made in a greased and floured Bundt pan – bake 45 minutes or in two greased and floured 9-inch round baking pans – bake 30 to 35 minutes.

Stir together sugar, flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a large bowl. Add eggs, milk, oil, and vanilla. Beat with an electric mixer on medium speed for 2 minutes. *Stir in hot coffee and boiling water mix well – batter will be very thin and water-like. Pour into a prepared pan. Bake for 35 to 40 minutes until a knife inserted comes out clean. Cool completely and frost with Dark Chocolate Frosting (see below). Makes 10-12 servings.

Dark Chocolate Frosting

Ingredients:

1 stick salted butter

2/3 cup dark cocoa powder

3 cups powdered sugar

1/3 cup whole milk

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Directions:

Melt butter and stir in cocoa. Alternately add powdered sugar and milk, beating to spreading consistency. May add a small amount of additional milk if needed. Stir in vanilla. Frost the cake.

Enjoy! Jessica

Chapter 1

As I laid in a stranger’s bed, a weird feeling flushed through my body and made me shiver internally. I only felt that feeling one other time in my life at the age of ten. I was riding my bike on the sidewalk, a motorcycle zipping up and down the street. I thought to myself, I hope he