It seems like we wanted the same things…


Despite how we met and how things began, you were cold, enclosed and guarded; callous. Your bars were impenetrable, you compared every woman you met with those who’ve hurt you in the past, you judged them harshly even by their zodiac signs.

My stubbornness, relentless, perseverance of a bull, chose not to waiver by your harshness, I wanted to be let in so badly, because we met at a crossroad of me healing and you not yet there, it appeared.

I knocked and knocked down those walls desperate to help you heal, desperate to help you embark on the journey that helped my heart be able to open once more after all I’ve endured.

Desperate to see you flourish like a withered flower or plant; I wanted to see you bloom despite the thorns attached as I have bloomed. You misunderstood me, my love, intentions, you took for granted.

Not realizing that we’re not so different you and I despite the difference in background, difference in upbringings, etc our pain is the same, the damages have broken equal pieces within our hearts.

We’re not so different you and I, for hurt, pain, distrust is like a security blanket which we’ve grown to embrace. We’re not so different you and I for love feels alien and absolute.

We’re not so different you and I because we wanted the same thing. Love, understanding, compassion, acceptance and so much more; we’re not so different in our desire to seek true love.

Yet, we’re different in expectations, what we’re willing to compromise for the sake of what we seek; compromise does not mean changing who you are as a human being, thus neglecting what feeds your soul; you’re core values, etc, but making adjustments/caring enough to give a little bit to the one you claim you love.

The willingness to be selfless and loving without judgement nor unrealistic one sided expectations. The willingness to accept, understand in the manner we want to be.

We’re not so different you and I in terms of what we hope for when it comes to love. Yet we’re different in views and harshness, how we’ve allowed our experiences to shape and harden us. But in seeking, yearning for love we’re no so different overall.

Because little eyes are watching…


In the past I didn’t want to quit because I wanted to honor the memory of my mother.

I didn’t want to quit, to give those unconsciously awaiting for my downfall victory.

I didn’t want to quit to prove not only to others, but mainly to myself that I could overcome.

Today, I don’t want to quit because little eyes are watching and learning.

I don’t want those beautiful innocent eyes to seek defeat in struggles.

Imperfect parent


I yearn to raise a physically, emotionally, and spiritually whole human being, one that can look back as an adult and feel that I did a decent job, one that my pain has not scarred.

I’m so scared; parenting is a scary roller coaster ride, especially single parenting. You never know whether your decisions, actions, approaches, etc are in alignment with your deep souls desires. You only have yourself to ask, question, rely on etc.

Nothing I wish and want more than for my child to grow to a happy, and well balanced human being, but I relying solely on my judgment which makes this journey doubtful.

Am I doing a good job? Am I possibly causing unknown traumas due to my current circumstances and state of mind, state of being? Breathing, living is something that I’ve grown to abhor, I find no peace nor happiness in anything.

Although I’m grateful for the blessings we have; good health, the ability to keep a roof above our heads, put food on the table, and being able to provide my child with everything he needs and more despite my never ending circumstances. Yet my soul is in deep anguish….a constant battle; living hurts.

I wish I was the perfect parent for him, like those you see on YouTube and Instagram, however, I am a real life parent who’s circumstances not as glamorous/enviable. A parent who’s life is instead filled with doubts in my capacity to parent, be whole and to to provide stability in the manner I wish I could.

A parent that goes through each day as a zombie; feeling lifeless, physically, mentally, and spiritually tired. One that fights through the motions of being strong, putting on my mask, smile and pretend, one that pours from an empty glass. I’m exhausted.

Am I good enough for my child? Am I deserving of that pure selfless love, that real unconditional love? And I doing at least a decent job? I try my hardest to inculcate great life values and share my experience s as a child with the hopes that my child can see life through a different lense, a realistic one.

A lense where he’ll be well equipped, be strong, be courageous, have a faith that does not waiver, be a leader and so much more. I am imperfect in so many ways, ways that tear my soul, ways that fills me with doubts and makes me question everything I do.

An imperfect parent with good intentions I am. I hope that this is enough, that my love will outweigh my imperfections and that the results will be fruitful, be abundant. I hope that I can be forgiven for my imperfections as a parent, for love is what leads me.

Something I think about all the times…May his will be done.


Many thoughts races through my mind, but one of these, is that God, my father, my creator merges the paths.

Father if it is your will, please allow my child to meet his paternal grandfather and grandmother, it if it is your will, allow their paths to cross; it has never been my intention for it to be this way.

Father, you know my heart better than I know myself, therefore, my heart has always yearned for my child to have the family dynamic I never had.

If it is your will father, if it’s for the greater good, make this happen…PLEASE! I want for my child to know and enjoy all that I’ve never had. I’ve googled, made phone calls in hopes to connect him to his grandfather to no avail.

If it is your will make this happen. I surrender my all to you, because after all, you are almighty and my impossible is possible to you. May your will be done father.

How hopeless…


Many challenges come from raising a child alone, but the hardest one at the present time is not the lack of financial help, being faced with making decision all alone, etc, but the deep, empty loneliness.

The loneliness that brings a deep sadness, a loneliness you feel though your bones, deep in your core. And If you come from a family that is not close/united unless it’s for a funeral, holidays are something you’ll dread.

A loneliness that might drive you into the wrong arms, make you settle for less because it’s better than being alone, feeling alone and defenseless. A loneliness that that reminds you daily that you have no one.

Yes, in parts you’re not alone, because you have the companionship of another human being; your child, however, he/she is not someone you can confide in, be a shoulder to lean on, share your sadness with, etc. Your child relies on your strength weather it’s lacking or not.

The loneliness one experiences as a single parent is beyond comprehension. It limits ones ability to make new friends (if you’ve relocated), date etc. Single Parenting can be like a social class and you might find that other single mother’s find nothing in common with you and politely stop contact because your the “third world country type” on the social class ladder.

Dating is nearly impossible. Babysitters can be costly due to the lack of having someone willing to watch your child for a date night. Also, will a man be understanding of the limitations being a single parent entails? Will he embrace your child?

And when you’re feeling broken, there’s no room to breathe, no personal space, no escape, you have to be present whether you want to or not. Push, shove, repeat, fake a smile, put on a mask daily, with no glimpse of escape, with 16 or 18 years looking so far away, that it’s not tangible.

Yearning for flexibility, a hint of freedom makes one feel like a monster. You feel guilty for wanting to feel “normal” again and you fear the thought of ever having children again even you’d love a big family, because of the fear of being left to raise a child alone; mothers can’t escapen or deny their responsibilities as easily.

I’m numb by this loneliness, no one to openly talk to without fear, no ear to listen, no shoulder to lean on, no arm to be your strength when yours falter.

We all have a biju…


I recall after my mother passed, I was put in a boarding school. There was a dog who remained chained in the backyard of that school, who’s only shelter was a piece of sheet metal covering him form the elements.

Bijou was a mutt; no one knew his breed, even the principal did not know. As an animal lover, I slowly began to talk to him from afar to gain his trust. In times when I was locked out in a place out in the backyard from rebelling against my bullies, he was my only companion.

Slowly but surely, Biju came to trust me and I no longer feared the wild beast nor he me….we became friends, almost as if he felt my pain and desolation. I’d bathe him against the rules without fear of punishment, I’d feed him my food which I’d hide in my pockets. Biju was my only friend, one who listened without judgement, one who listened to understand. Biju was black and white, with sweet kind eyes.

That dog became my enthusiasm to wake up each day, because who else would feed him some good food aside of crummy leftovers and give him his weekly bath and clean his area daily? We gain each other’s trust so much so that aside of one of the boarding school worker’s who’d known him since a puppy I believe, I was the only person who could get near him without fear.

It got to a point that whenever the principal would leave the Capitol (City), I’d let Biju out of his leash; a great risk. One time I recall I was helping the lady who did laundry, I’d help her in exchange for my basic needs; toiletries, etc, I left Biju off his leash.

As I was heading towards the area where the lady who did laundry hung up clothes, I heard a growl followed by barking. Later I learned that I had unknowingly stepped on one of the boys (I attended a unisex boarding school) who attempted to hit me, but Biju did not allow him; he defended me when I was defenseless and unaware of needing protection.

I our lives, we all have a Biju, who senses our pain and loneliness and says “that’s my human,” we all have a Biju who looks out for us even when we don’t know it. In our times of loneliness, sadness, loss, we have a Biju whether it’d be in animal or human form, we have a Biju unbeknownst to us.

Who will remember me? Who will say kind words about me?…


I recently had a conversation with a much older friend, about what truly define us, what we would be remembered by; it’s not by our zip code, nor socioeconomic status, etc, but the impact we’ve made on others.

This made me think at the present moment in time. I am not perfect nor has been my choices. I have a young child who is bias by the love he has for me, in his eyes I’m perfect despite my imperfections. But…

Whom will I be remembered by when I draw my last breath and leave this earth? Aside of my child? Who has seen my soul and has embraced my perfect imperfections and can say good things about me?

In who’s memory will I forever live like my mother lives in mine? Who else will be my advocate when my voice is forever silenced?

Life is a funny thing, isn’t it? We go each day overwhelmed by the day to day struggles, the mundane things without much thought of the imprints we leave behind, without concern of how our existence has affected others.

Who will say kind words about me aside of him? Who will paint a picture of my true essence erasing the doubts and negativity of others? Allowing them to get to know the true me after I’ve left this earth…who else will? Fortunate are those who have at least one person who’s voice can reverberate throughout the ages in unconditional love for them and fight to honor their memory.