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Single Mom Out Loud by Brisa Pinho - 1y ago

Here is a little story about irony and karma (if you believe in it).
I was at this custody hearing lately (of a friend of course) where the absent father told the judge (in writing and in person) that the mother was crazy and a psycho and that he (the father) wanted custody of his son (which he hadn’t seen in 4 years) and he wanted the cray cray mother to go to therapy and report back to him (the excellent mentally stable father). 
The judge instead, after hearing both the mother and the obsessive hate filled rant from the father, grants the cray mother (my friend) sole legal and sole physical custody of the child and forces the FATHER to see a psychiatrist 3 times a month for an undetermined amount of time until the psychiatrist clears him to be in the SAME ROOM as his son. 

You simply can not make this shit up. It’s beyond Hollywood’s wildest plot twists. 

Moral of the story: Irony is not dead.  Life is a mirror and what you project in others is just a reflection of what you see in yourself. What you wish for others, you get back to yourself. 

Thats all =)

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Dear son, you will never be like him.  No matter how many people assume otherwise, you will never grow up to be him.  I know that you’re looking to see yourself in me.

But in truth, I am sorry that you are so much like me.


I’m sorry that I gave you a heart stronger than a thousand warriors, because it will take you years to learn that not everyone loves like you do. It’s a hard lesson, and its scars gleam from you never giving up on what you truly desire.

There are moments that I look at you in this beautiful world and see you mesmerized by the simple brilliance of life unfolding. In these moments, my heart splits open a little bit wider for you.

I see your innocence and desire to help others, and I wonder when it will be that you first feel the sting of being used. I wonder if your faith will be tested in the world or if you will hold onto to your morals against those who have blurred the lines of theirs. 

I’m sorry that you see only the good in everyone.

Childhood is about seeing everything with wonder. You look around, and there is no evil, no danger lurking around hidden corners. It’s inconceivable that the greatest pains you will ever encounter will be at the hands of those you love the most.

I wish that I could instill all of my lessons into your warm heart, but I know that you need to learn on your own. I can spend days with you in the sunshine telling you life’s truths, but in the end my experiences won’t necessarily become yours.

I’m sorry that you feel everything as deeply as you do. It’s both a blessing and a curse to feel everything so deeply. 

There are caverns inside of your soul that ache to feel everything that this life has to offer. I can see the way that you feel compassion for strangers, and how you sometimes just stop to look at me as if I hung the stars in the sky. I can see the way that you are brimming with the ability to feel the world around you and with it, all of the heartache and passion it can offer.


You might have moments where you wish that this wasn’t so, and while I’m sorry that I have given this quality to you, in time I hope you see that it is truly a gift, not a burden.

Many parents delight when their children exhibit the same qualities that they have, but in my heart I secretly send you a thousand sweet apologies, because even though one day I know you’ll gain strength from these attributes, I also know that the pain they can inflict could tear you in two.

And so, while I am sorry that you are so much like me, I also couldn’t be more proud of you.

I see the way that you forgive everyone around you with such a delicate tenacity, and how you already have learned to stick up for yourself and your needs. I see the way that you’re already so much smarter than I was, so much better equipped to handle the ways of the world, and in those instances, I know that there is no doubt you will one day learn how to use your wings.

While I may not be perfect, I am precisely the mother you need.

I may have given you my giant heart and sensitive soul, but I am giving you my strength too, so that even on the darkest nights, you will know you can get through anything life may toss your way. And I will always be there, too.

You are a little warrior.

I know that you have heartbreak ahead of you, but I also know that you will change the world simply by loving how you do. You have a gift of lighting up the room just by being yourself; my only hope is that you won’t let any encounter change that.

As you grow older, the world will begin to tell you that magic doesn’t exist, and while I know that you may have your faith tested, I hope that you continue to wish on falling stars and believe in all that is unseen in this world.

I’m sorry that you are so much like me, but only because I know how hard this world will try to change you and at times break you. 

So, while one day you may strive to show how different you are from me, there is no doubt—nor has there ever been—that you, my sweet warrior boy, are my son.

 You are not him. You will never be him. You are me. 

And I couldn’t be more proud of that.

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 Dear SexMate,

I wish you would see what I see. 

I know its hard to see our lives and actions through the lens of those around us but please try. 

For the last 2 years I have seen you search for love in the arms of every stranger you ever felt infactuated with. 

As a friend, and as someone who has experienced heaven and hell with you, I have seen them come and go and I have watched from afar you try so desperately to find the loyal love we are both looking for. 

And it hurts. 

Because I see myself in you. 

I see the same mistakes. The same hope. The same pains. We are like a mirror reflecting back to each other the exact things we need to change.

I don’t know what that means. But I am pretty sure it means something.

I have seen each and every woman you have picked, each and every woman you have developed feelings for and each and every woman you have dumped for one reason or another and the pattern is clear: You my friend, just like me, are addicted to love. 

Remember that insecure teenage boy who used to be rejected? 

You need to let that boy go. 

And with him, his adolescent desire for approval and acceptance. You are not him anymore. You have grown past him. You have reached what you still hope to prove. And you don’t need a woman or love to validate that.

As I stood in the waiting line, I have watched your struggles in this crazy world of dating. I have hurt with you, trust me. With every break up, I have felt your pain. With every rejection I felt my ego crush alongside yours. When X wouldn’t kiss you, I felt the sting. When 21 year old Y wasn’t ready to be committed to 37 year old you, I felt the sting. When every single girl you dated somehow didn’t turn out to be what you expected, I felt the disappointment with you. Sometimes from far, sometimes from very close, playing with your hair while you slept.

I didn’t want it to be like that. Every time you decided we need it to “call it quits” because you had met someone else, I rooted for it to work. The selfish part of me that wanted you all for myself, that wanted you to wake up one day and see in me what you are looking for, was never as strong as the part of me that wanted to see you happy.

So with every good bye, I sent you off to them with the hopes that they would put a smile in your face, even though deep inside I knew they wouldn’t.

I don’t know why it doesn’t hurt to let you go. Ive asked myself this question many times. The few times I have experienced love in my life, it has always been possessive, turbulent and selfish. The thought of the man I loved with someone else would crush me and send me into a spiral of self destruction. But with you is different. With every goodbye and with every new woman, I feel peace. I feel hope that at least one of us would finally find the love and family we are both so desperately looking for.

Maybe I am not that into you. Or maybe, for the first time in my life, I am experiencing real love. The selfless type of love that the bible and romantic authors write about. The type of love that makes us put the happiness of the one we love above our own. I don’t know. But I do know that I am always rooting for your happiness, even if its not with me.

This is why I always come back around. This is why I never truly let you go. This is why I still hold on. 

You my friend, deserve the best. And I hope one day you can see what I see.

Until then, may every love be real and heartbreaks be few.


Your friend.

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Single Mom Out Loud by Brisa Pinho - 1y ago

Well, first I wish you love. And I wish it’s easily reciprocated. But if it’s not I hope you find the strength to pursue it. 

There is nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline no matter how many times it’s sent away. 

But you lose it, I hope you are quick in forgetting. And when you do, do it without resentments. 

Later I wish you are never alone. 

But if you are, feel the loneliness without despair. 

I also wish you have many friends and even if they are irresponsible and reckless, I hope they are courageous and loyal.

I wish in at least one you can trust without doubts. 

And because life is the way it is, I also wish you enemies.

Not many. Not few. 

Just enough so sometimes you can reevaluate your certainties.

I also wish you confidence, but never enough to make you think you are irreplaceable. 

And in bad times, when there’s nothing left, I hope this confidence is enough to keep you on your feet. 

While at it, I wish you tolerance and understanding. 

But not with those who make few mistakes, because that’s easy. 

But with those who screw up repeatedly and irreparably.

I hope this tolerance and understanding can be a good example to others. 

I wish that while you are young, you don’t try to mature too quickly. 

But when you do, I wish you don’t insist in getting younger. 

But above all, when you finally get old, do not feel desperate. Each age has its pleasures and its pains and you need to let them run their course within you. 

I also wish you some sadness. 

Not the whole year. 

Not a whole month or a whole week.

Only for one day. 

And on that day, I hope you learn that daily laughter is good 

But constant laughter is insanity. 

I hope you discover, with the utmost urgency, that there are oppressed people all around you.

Be grateful you are not one of them.

Be their voice. Join their fight. 

I wish you money, because its practical and fun. 

But at least once a year, put a portion of it in front of you and say: 

“This is mine.”

So you remember who owns who. 

I also hope none of your loved ones die. Both for them and for you. 

But if they do, I hope you can cry without self-blaming and suffer without resentments. 

I also wish you change. Not much. Just a little every year. Not for others. But for you. Change is progress and it’s important to improve ourselves every day. 

Finally, I wish you integrity and I hope you become a good man. 

And you find a good woman that will love you just the way you are. 

And when you do, appreciate her. People come and go, but to a precious few you should hold on. 

And when you do, I hope you learn to love her slowly. 

Love at first sight is infatuation. Real love grows. 

And as weird as it may sound, I also hope you two argue at least once a week, so you both remember you are unique individuals with independent personalities.

And if all this happens, I have nothing more to wish you.

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