I really wanted to have something cheerful to say today, but sadly the only thing worth noting today is still leaving me shaking in anger.

I haven't been on speaking terms with my mother since I ran away, and lately she's been calling the house, sending me emails, and calling my aunt and uncle cause she misses me. However when I spoke with my aunt and uncle today about it, they told me that she said "I don't know why she's bringing it up now, it was so long ago." For those of you who have been reading (two) you know that the "it" my mother referred to was my rape by my brother. Now I'm not sure how anyone else would take this remark, but it left me in a blistering rage. Why? Because I still held the (foolish) expectation that my mother would support me, or try to understand, instead it seems she thinks I should forgive and forget the unforgivable. I guess what it so surprising, is that no matter how low I leave my expectations so that they won't be crushed, my mother still manages.

On the bright side, I made some delicious brownies today. I bake, clean, or resort to violence when I'm upset. Anyway, I got a nice chocolate fix, and some cornbread and chili on top of it! Mmmm

Dark Bittersweet Chocolate

Today I testified to a Grand Jury. This meant I related the most intimate details of my life in explicit detail to people I'd never met. It wasn't as bad as a trial, just myself, the prosecutor, the foreman(representative of the Grand Jury), a stenographer, and twenty people I'd never met before in my life.

As I sat there looking at the jurors, just as they were looking at me, I couldn't help noticing how they were from all walks of life. A young woman my own age, probably a student, another young man, a fatherly type directly in the center of the room, and several jurors the age of grandparents. I tried to put myself in their shoes, listening to the testimony of a young woman who had been mistreated in so many ways. I wondered what they thought of me, how did I look to them?

I felt fine, and the time almost flew by. Suddenly halfway through the day, I got this terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it won't go away as hard as I try to push my mood up. Though I know I am not the cause of my brother's going to jail, he sent himself to jail, there is still a small part of me that feels terrible. So if today were a flavor of chocolate it would be Dark Bittersweet Chocolate.

Modern Romance

Sorry guys, this is gonna be waaaaaaaay off topic from my last post. So yesterday I was having a discussion with my soon to be mother-in-law and expectations for romance. Specifically she was talking about how she wished her son was the kind of man who was a classic romantic. I think we can all see where this is going, well he isn't. But that doesn't mean I don't love him or don't appreciate the fact that he'll run home while hanging out with his friends just cause he knows I'm upset. The spark of this whole conversation was that he never got me a ring and isn't planning to. It's not something I mind, and as time has gone on I've grown proud of the fact that I'm in a relationship that isn't defined by a piece of jewelry. That's not to say that like every girl I don't imagine rose petals, candles, or a romantic setting every once in a while, but you have to lower your expectations a little sometimes, especially when it's the person you care about not the stuff. So what do you think? Am I setting my expectations a little too low? Is romance in the modern life different? Does it matter at all as long as you love the person?

Introduction

I'm Lively Lily. I've never done this before, but I've written all my life and I'd like for someone to know what I've been through. I'm not looking for pity or anything of that sort, just need to get my story out.

It starts I guess, with a dead fish. I stand, glaring into the tiny one gallon tank searching for the neon yellow fish I had gotten just a month before that had seemingly disappeared. A mighty feat indeed for the small tank with nothing in it but some stones, a pump, and a plastic plant. My immediate assumption is that the fish is dead. Upon announcement of my fish’s death to my parents, they both rush into my room, and continue to stare and search in the miniscule tank for the next twenty minutes, as if I don’t have the brainpower to determine on my own that indeed the fish is dead. This is such a typical reaction for my mom and dad, to treat me as though I can’t draw my own conclusions, and so they have to confirm for themselves what I say is true. I can feel the anger bubbling then boiling inside of me, so I do what I’ve always done, I run outside, no shoes, no phone, just pure anger, trying to walk out the feelings inside of me. I walk a long time, and as I calm down I come to the realization that I never want to walk back into my house again. It’s a hot July day, and I’m getting blisters on my feet from walking on the asphalt too long, but I don’t care, because I’m making a dream that I’ve been dreaming of for my entire life come true.

At this point I’ve walked the whole block, and I can barely walk. I hobble to a neighbor’s house just a few homes to the right of my own. I ask to borrow his phone and dial the number of my fiancé’s house. My heart is pounding through my ears as I ask for Abe’s dad to pick me up, and explain that I am running away from home. This is the first of a series of heart-pounding decisions, none of which will be easy. The 30 minute wait to be picked up is nerve-wracking, the entire time I’m expecting my dad to rush up to the stoop that I’m perched upon and tear me away in a fit of rage. Luckily that doesn’t happen. Instead my neighbor tries to engage me in conversation as it’s obvious I’m nervous and scared. As I explain parts of the situation to him, and he tries to do what any person would do to a scared kid running away from home without knowing the background, he tells me that my parents were probably trying to do what they thought was best for me, this only confirms to me even more that I don’t belong at home any more. My parents don’t do what’s right by me; they’ve proven it time and again.

Abe’s mom and dad drive up to the house and I jump into the backseat. As we drive back to their house everything I’ve been holding in from the world for three years comes spilling out. I explain that since I was about seven till 2 weeks before my 16^th birthday, my brother was raping me, that when I told my parents just before my 16^th birthday they covered it up, acted like it didn’t happen. My brother continued to live with us, and I was expected to deal with it without ever talking to anyone about it because then my brother would go to jail. I told how my parents are in a loveless marriage, so absorbed with the misery created by them, they don’t see anything else. That the only thing I’ve ever dreamt of is escaping the hellhole I live in, because every day is torture and sadness in that house. And so slowly, mile by mile I was driven from a house, to a home.

These days I'm living with my fiance's family. I'm about to testify to a Grand Jury on Thursday. I'm scared, but at the same time ridiculously proud of myself. In just a few months I've managed to pull together money and support so I can continue my educational ambitions.