My brother Mateo has three kids with three different women—and he keeps asking me for money. When he announced another pregnancy, I snapped: “Get a vasectomy!” That’s when he confessed, “I think I’m addicted to being needed.” He wasn’t joking. It reminded me of the emptiness he carried when Dad left.
Mateo’s life was always chaotic. He charmed his way through trouble but never learned to say no. His first child came at 21; the next two followed with little connection or stability. Now, a woman named Kelly was supposedly pregnant—though he barely knew her.
He pleaded: “She’s behind on rent. I want to help.” I caved—gave him $200.
But something felt wrong. So I looked her up. Kelly wasn’t pregnant—and hadn’t seen Mateo in months. He lied. I confronted him, furious. He admitted he was behind on child support and didn’t know how else to get help. “I didn’t want to seem like a deadbeat,” he whispered.
I told him I wouldn’t help again unless he made real changes.
Weeks later, I got a message from a local resource center. Mateo had been volunteering there. He’d sought counseling, gotten a free vasectomy consult, and decided to start over.
He didn’t ask for money. He asked for help organizing a park day to introduce his kids to each other. Two moms came. The kids laughed like old friends. Mateo cried.
Two months later, his third child met the others. Mateo began working at a garage and made his first child support payment.
He still has a long road—but he’s trying. That’s more than he ever did before.
Sometimes, redemption begins with one hard truth. And one person who believes change is possible.
