Narcotics Anonymous

I went to an NA meeting. Hindi ko na matandaan kung paano, pero naalala kong may Zoom link na nag-alangan pa akong i-click. Sinubukan kong pumasok kahit may pag-aalangan; baka mag-gatecrash ako sa isang importanteng meeting, o baka mapasukan ko ang meeting ng mga alters. Pero sige, go. Bahala na kung i-kickout nila ako. Wala namang pumansin sa akin. Siguro kasi dahil halos 100 ang mga participants, lahat ay mga taga Amerika. Ako lang yata yung hindi taga doon. Pero walang kumwestyon sa akin. Tuloy-tuloy na nagsasalita ang facilitator, doon ko nalaman na NA meeting pala ito. Narcotics Anonymous.

Anong gagawin ko dito? Naisip ko ‘hala baka tawagin ako to share’ eh di naman ako drug addict. Buti at ang tinatawag lang yung mga nagtataas ng kamay at nung binasa ko yung chat, nakalagay naman na ‘open to all’ yung meeting. Kaya hindi na din ako umalis, nakinig na lang ako sa mga kuwento nila. Ang napansin ko, karamihan sa mga nag-share na drug-free na ay mga kababaihan; yung iba sa kanila 4 na taon nang sober, yung ibang mas matatanda ay dekada na. Karamihan naman sa mga nag-share na addict pa rin at struggling ay mga kalalakihan. Tumatak sakin yung isang nag-share na lalaking estudyante. Umiiyak siya nung nagkukwento siya. Mga dalawang buwan na din siyang hindi gumagamit pero nate-tempt ulit siyang tumikim dahil sa pressure ng buhay estudyante. Binigay din niya ang contact niya dahil may mga iba sa room na gusto siyang tulungan. 5 minutes lang ang time allotment ng bawat isa. Bigla tuloy akong nagkainteres na mag-share ng saloobin ko, gusto kong mag-raise ng kamay kaso naalala ko sumasawsaw lang pala ako.

Pero nakakatuwa din at nakapakinig ako sa ganung meeting. Hindi lang naman sharing yung ginawa nila, may poetry reading pa silang ganap at may pa-mini games din. May participant pa mula sa isang county jail. Nung magsisimula na yung mini game, nag-exit na ako. Pero next time kung may pagkakataon ulit na makapag-gatecrash sa isang NA or AA meeting, bakit hindi. Di ba?

I am too broke to attend a wedding

Ella, a very dear friend of mine is getting married. I’m one of the few people who witnessed and stood by her through both the happiest and darkest parts of her life. I was there when she had to run to the hospital after her former partner made her a punching bag. I was there during the confusing in-between of a situationship with someone we worked with. And I was there when she met Philip, the man she would eventually marry and someone who slowly became my friend too. Philip is a kind person, with a positive outlook and a clear sense of where he wants to go in life. Those were the things that made Ella fall in love with him.

That was ten years ago. Since then, life has moved in different directions. We changed jobs, chased different careers, and our circles grew bigger. But somehow, we always found our way back to each other, even just once a year over drinks, over stories, over laughter that felt familiar no matter how much time had passed.

And now, she’s getting married and it feels right. It feels like something she has long deserved. I am so proud of her, of them, of the life they are building together.

Fast forward to January 2026, Ella finally sent us the wedding invitation along with the RSVP in our group chat. Everyone was excited, with conversations about the dress code, hotel bookings, and all that jazz. The wedding will be held in the province, far from the city, and far from where I live (I live in the north while most of my friends live south). But that’s okay. That should be okay, right?

But the truth is, I’ve been struggling financially for years and at some point, reality became impossible to ignore. I can’t afford the trip. I can’t afford a dress. I can’t afford a place to stay. I spent weeks going back and forth in my mind, trying to find a way, any way, to make it work. Because this is not just any event. This is my friend’s wedding, one of the very few people I keep close to my heart. And I want to be there. But I’m just not in a position to spend money on something I simply can’t afford.

And so after three days I finally declined the RSVP. I sent her a message telling her I couldn’t come and that I am happy and proud of her, that I love them both. I didn’t explain why. Pride told me to keep things to yourself, even when the truth is simple. I know Ella and Phil will understand. At least, I hope Ella will.

UPDATE: Ella has seen it, but hasn’t replied yet. I imagine she’s busy, caught up in all the details that come with building a wedding and a future. The group chat is still alive. Everyone is still excited. And me? I am cheering for her quietly, from a distance.

Happy birthday, Papa.

Happy birthday, Papa. I love you so much. I’ve always said I’m your carbon copy, the ultimate Papa’s girl.

When I was little, I would cry every time you leave for Baguio to work. I always needed to see you leave. Even if it was very early in the morning, no matter what day it was, I would make sure I’m awake just to watch you get on the bus. Sometimes, you don’t say that you’re about to leave, but there are signs. You’d start folding your clothes and put them in your duffel bag. By then, I knew you were leaving, so I wouldn’t sleep at all so I could wake up the moment you step out of the house. Even when Lola scolded me, I didn’t care.

Because if I didn’t see you leave, I would feel awful. My whole week would be terrible. I would cry and cry.

Papa, someone else inherited that habit of mine—your eldest grandchild, my nephew. Every time his mother leaves, he would always wake up and cry. He doesn’t want her to go. But when there’s nothing he can do, he makes sure he sees his mom walk out of the house and get on the bus.

I always smile when I see him like that. Then I would tell him the story, that I was just like him when I was a child.

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Since I was a child, I never won games or raffles. Unlike my mom and my sibling, who often brought home prizes, I always went home with nothing after parties. That’s why I was so happy yesterday when I won four times at our class reunion raffle. The first, I won in a game, then won again in the raffle—second, third, and fourth prizes. Of course, I was happy. In my whole existence, this was the first time I ever got lucky in these kinds of games. But I didn’t just win prizes; I also got to see my old classmates. It was really heartwarming to see them again after decades.

So much has changed, and our batch has come a long way. Some of them already have children who have graduated, while others have firstborns who are still in kindergarten. Some have given up on having children and instead focused on making money (mentioning our classmate who sponsored an 18,000-peso lechon and reserved the entire resort). It was fun to look back on our foolishness and innocence when we were young.

In a way, the reunion lifted my spirits. I had doubts about going because I didn’t have much money and only contributed 1,000 pesos. Still, I really wanted to see them, so I made sure to be there whatever happens. And seeing them again and seeing what we’ve all become, I felt genuinely happy. I wish everyone the best and more blessings for our batch. Of course, I wish we’ll have another reunion in the future.