Promise Land

May 11, 2017
By Anonymous

I entered into the Promise Land 16 years ago today when my mother decided I was too undesirable for her.  I understand though – why she killed me. I mean, you wouldn’t want to keep your hand on top of a burning stove just to be injured in the end. That would be me – I would have been the burning stove causing my mother distress if she would have kept me alive. So she turned the stove (me) off for the benefit of herself.
One of the most painful things I’ve had to cope with in the Promise Land is striving to live a life I couldn’t have. Knowing that I will never have my first kiss, go shopping with friends, learn to drive, go to school, have a gorgeous wedding with many red roses, and staying up all night to watch horror movies I will regret the next morning. Those are the things I would die for just to have a chance to experience those worldly goods, but I will never get the opportunity to do them. But you know what? Like I said, I understand why I didn’t live such a life. In some ways I’m kind of glad I didn’t live a life on the big blue marble some people call Earth. I know what you’re thinking – why wouldn’t someone want to live wanderlust, traveling through the awe of life?  Well here’s my answer: worry. Worrying if you will be good enough to make a team, worrying about getting as much as a B on a test, worrying about what people think of you, worrying if you cause too much stress on your family. Worrying. Thank goodness I don’t have to worry about being worried here in Promise Land. I would rather live here than live a life of worry on the big blue marble.
Additionally, I know you are thinking, why would someone want to abort a child, and why is this child okay with it? Here’s my answer: It’s complicated. 
My mother grew up in a good-spirited home with just her mother and herself alone. Since it was only them two, they created an unbreakable mother-daughter bond. The death of my mother’s father glued her and her mother together like two peas in a pod. A couple years after my father’s death, my mother found her meant-to-be hubby. Of course my mother and her soon to be step father grew very close due to how happy he made her mother. They became the new three musketeers instead of just being two peas in a pod.
My mother’s stepdad took her life away by abusing her in a way no women wants to be abused, making her feel like her body was a shame after what her stepdad had done to her. I couldn’t imagine the horror she felt trying to confront her mother about what happened.
So yeah, I get why my mother aborted me 16 years ago today. If I was still living on that big blue marble, she would relive the horror of what happened every time she would look at me. When pain is fed, it makes the situation worse.
My Promise Land is a Safe Haven for my mother.

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