What’s the reason for moving?” The Leasing Manager, a cheerful woman with strawberry blonde hair, asked my husband and me from across her desk.
This was one of the many property viewings we’ve had over the past month, in our search for the perfect place to call “home.”
My husband and I exchanged brief, knowing glances before I responded, “Pests.”
“There have been persistent issues with pest control,” I added, my tone firm as I tightened my grip on the handles of my ivory white handbag. “You see, I already deal with too many pests at work. I simply don’t have the patience or forbearance to handle them at home as well.”
Much like someone who has dated too many people, I’ve become more discerning and, I’d like to think, wiser when it comes to choosing a flat, an apartment, or any place to stay, no matter the duration. Shelter is more than just a roof over our heads or walls that shield us from the elements; it’s like a womb–a safe place where we can curl up in comfort, recover, and recharge before powering on.
I’ve learned the hard way that our living space profoundly impacts our well-being, affects our level of happiness, and shapes our engagement with the world around us.
As soon as I left university, I plunged headfirst into the pursuit of my dreams, eager to carve out a new life in the big city. My living arrangements were the least of my concerns. I channeled every ounce of my energy entirely on launching my career and seizing all available opportunities within my reach.
Friends and family urged me to focus on saving money rather than splurging on fancy accommodations. After all, they reasoned, I was young and still had the energy to endure inconveniences. Besides, they said, I would probably be traveling most of my waking days.
I therefore only needed a place to crash and store my belongings. On days when I happen to be at home base, they suggested, I could easily relax at the mall or escape to a nearby resort.
So, when I moved to Cebu, I chose something practical and spartan but a ten-minute drive to the office, give or take some traffic. Rent was certainly cheap but as they say, when you pay peanuts you get monkeys.
I had nothing more but a bedroom with a tiny window, a single bed, no cabinets for my belongings, and worst of all, no aircon–which was a death sentence for anyone living anywhere that’s tropical and humid. My place was simply a space to sleep, shower, and store my belongings.
This minimalist approach seemed perfectly logical at first–or at least that’s what I said to convince myself that I had made a wise and prudent decision. The city’s vibrant energy was my fuel, and the excitement of new experiences and new challenges at work kept me going. I lived on adrenaline and ambition, content to make do with the bare essentials in my living space.
Ultimately, I began to realize the limitations of this transient lifestyle. The relentless pace of city life, while exhilarating, also left me drained and depleted. The tiny bedroom my landlady fondly refers to as an “apartment” was a place I dreaded living in with as much loathing as I did my job.
The lack of a proper space where I could unwind at the end of every hectic day took a toll on my well-being. I felt trapped in a cycle of exhaustion and frustration, unable to find the peace and relaxation I so desperately needed. This constant state of discomfort seeped into every aspect of my life. I found it difficult to concentrate at work, the slightest trigger irritated me, and I felt like I didn’t even have the energy to engage my colleagues and clients.
I worked so hard and yet I was so cruel to myself–perhaps this was the best I could manage?
I spent more money than necessary, lingering in cafes or hanging out in the mall. By the time I finally arrived home, often close to midnight, I would be too exhausted to even notice how unbearable my room was.
Every time I opened the door to my tiny room, the oppressive heat and palpable discomfort hit me like a wave. It was impossible to ignore the contrast between my cramped reality and the cozy, inviting homes I had once known. This made me question my choices and my ability to create a fulfilling life for myself. I began doubting my decisions, and ended up asking whether this “temporary inconvenience” was a necessary step towards my material goals.
Mornings were the most difficult. I frequently woke up drenched in panic and sweat from the heat. With only one bathroom for the entire house, I wasted precious time waiting for my turn to use the shower. In my rush, I would haphazardly toss my bags into the backseat of my Honda Civic, my bad mood inevitably tailing me to work.
Returning to my pigeonhole of a bedroom each night only heightened my feelings of insecurity and self-doubt. The cramped, stifling space felt more like a prison than a sanctuary, a constant reminder of my struggles and limitations. I couldn’t shake the sense that I had somehow failed in my quest for a better life in the big city.
During my drives, I often found myself yearning for a space that offered more than just functionality. While retail therapy and resorts provided temporary respite from the grind and hustle, I longed for days where I didn’t have to venture out just to enjoy a comforting cup of coffee or get dressed up simply to relax. I missed easy mornings spent lounging on the couch, catching up on movies I had missed at the cinema, or leisurely reading a good book.
I was filled with remorse when I recalled taking our spacious family home for granted back in Dumaguete. Now, I yearned to wake up to sunlight streaming through large windows, watching tiny specks of dust sparkle as they drifted in the light. The simple pleasures of a cozy, welcoming home seemed like a distant memory, one I desperately wanted to reclaim.
This realization profoundly changed my understanding of what “shelter” truly means. It’s not just a physical space; it’s a cornerstone for well-being, happiness, and our feelings of self-worth.
Leilani Farha, former United Nations Special Rapporteur on the Right to Housing, highlighted the critical role shelter plays in people’s lives during an interview with Topos Magazine: “Housing is the link between one’s dignity and one’s ability to survive in our world, i.e. to have employment, to have good health and to be safe and secure. So much springs from housing.”
A good home fosters mental and emotional health, creating a space where we can unwind, recharge, and prepare to face the world anew each day. It scaffolds our ambitions and dreams, offering a safe haven where we can reflect, plan, and grow. When we feel comfortable and secure in our living space, our confidence and self-esteem are bolstered, enabling us to tackle challenges with resilience and optimism.
Matthew Desmond, acclaimed sociologist and winner of the 2017 Pulitzer Prize for his book “Evicted: Poverty and Profit in the American City” echoes Farha’s point: “Housing is about more than four walls and a roof; it is about security, opportunity, and hope.” Without a safe and dignified place to live, the foundation of our lives can feel unstable, affecting every aspect of our existence.
Poor living environments can undermine our sense of self-worth, making us feel unworthy of better conditions. The daily stress of coping with subpar living environments can erode our mental health, leaving us exhausted and demoralized. This was my reality in the first few years of work, where the lack of comfort was a constant reminder of my struggles and perceived shortcomings.
Many people make the mistake of sacrificing their current living conditions to funnel most of their earnings into investments like a condominium or a piece of land for future use. One of the most extreme cases I know of involved someone who chose to live in a garage with inadequate heating to purchase a posh condominium unit back home, which they eventually hoped to rent out or resell.
Investing in future assets is a wise financial strategy, but it should not come at the expense of one’s immediate well-being. While the commitment to long-term financial security is commendable, it should never come at the cost of one’s health, happiness, and overall quality of life. It’s simply not worth it.
Realizing the true significance of shelter reshaped my priorities. I understood that investing in a space that nurtures and supports me is not a luxury but a necessity. A home, and by extension the neighborhood we live in, should be a place where we feel dignified and valued, where our well-being is nurtured, and where our dreams are given the space to flourish.
In reality, though, our choices of where to live are often constrained by what we can afford. Housing options are in large part an economic decision, influencing everything from the type of neighborhood we reside in to the amenities and services available to us. Not everyone has the luxury of choice.
For many individuals and families, the cost of housing is a primary consideration. Rent or mortgage payments, utilities, property taxes, and maintenance expenses all contribute to the financial burden of housing. This financial strain can limit our choices, pushing us towards more affordable but potentially less desirable areas or housing options.
Systemic inequalities, such as discrimination in housing markets or lack of access to affordable financing, can further restrict housing choices for marginalized communities, especially in developing countries. This perpetuates cycles of inequality, limiting opportunities for upward mobility and exacerbating social disparities. In Desmond’s words: “We can’t expect individuals to climb the socioeconomic ladder without providing them with the necessary infrastructure to reach the next rung.”
When I relocated to London, I quickly grasped the profound impact that one’s choice of neighborhood can have on the trajectory of their life, particularly at an early stage. This realization became starkly evident when observing the experiences of grade school children, whose educational path is often dictated by the borough in which they reside.
In London, the borough you live in significantly influences the schools available to you. This creates a system where children’s access to quality education is heavily contingent on their geographical location. As a result, families may find themselves navigating complex decisions about where to live based not only on housing affordability and amenities but also on the educational opportunities available to their children.
The disparity in educational resources and opportunities between different boroughs underscores broader issues of socioeconomic inequality. Children from affluent neighborhoods may have access to well-funded schools with a wide range of extracurricular activities, specialized programs, and resources that enhance their learning experience. On the other hand, children from less privileged areas may attend schools that face challenges such as underfunding, overcrowding, and limited access to enrichment programs.
This educational divide can have long-lasting consequences, shaping children’s academic outcomes, career prospects, and overall life opportunities.
Worldwide, more than 1.6 billion people lack access to adequate housing and basic services remains a distant dream, according to Balakrishnan Rajagopal, the UN Special Rapporteur on the Right to Adequate Housing. This stark reality reflects not just a statistical figure but a profound human crisis, where millions of individuals and families grapple daily with the most fundamental of needs: a safe, secure, and stable place to call home.
This crisis is deeply intertwined with broader societal challenges such as the unequal distribution of life chances—unequal access to jobs, to good schools, and to basic services such as health care, electricity, and sanitation.
Across continents and contexts, the lack of access to adequate housing creates a ripple effect of hardships. It’s not just about having a roof overhead; it’s about upholding the fundamental rights to dignity, health, and security. Without a stable home, individuals and communities face heightened risks of homelessness, exposure to unsafe living conditions, and limited access to essential services crucial for well-being.
This crisis is especially acute in urban areas, where rapid urbanization and inadequate urban planning contribute to overcrowded slums, informal settlements, and substandard living conditions. Families find themselves in precarious situations, vulnerable to eviction, displacement, and exploitation due to housing insecurity.
The impact of inadequate housing transcends mere physical discomfort; it profoundly affects mental well-being, educational opportunities, economic prospects, and social inclusion. Children growing up in substandard housing face barriers to their development and future success, while adults struggle to find stability and build secure livelihoods.
While choosing one’s house is indeed a deeply personal choice, ensuring that everyone has access to a diverse range of housing options is a collective responsibility that must be led by governments and supported by communities. This responsibility goes beyond merely enacting policies and allocating resources; it requires a fundamental transformation in priorities, perspectives, and values within society.
My husband and I are meticulous observers as we explore potential living spaces. We scrutinize not only the building’s interior design but also delve into the often-overlooked details, such as the upkeep of common areas and the efficiency of trash disposal systems. This attention to detail stems from my habit of carrying forward preferences and experiences from previous homes whenever I move to a new city.
Each move presents an opportunity to refine our understanding of what makes a home truly comfortable and functional. For instance, I may appreciate a well-maintained lobby or a communal garden area from a previous residence, while also being mindful of aspects like noise or accessibility challenges that I’d prefer to avoid in our next home.
Beyond the four corners of our flat, we also consider the neighborhood vibe, proximity to essential amenities, and the overall sense of community. These factors contribute significantly to our quality of life and determine how well a place aligns with our lifestyle and values.
It is often said that we can only truly make a positive impact in other people’s lives when we ourselves are in a good place emotionally, mentally, and physically. This concept of “filling our cups” before extending ourselves to others is not just an abstract idea but a practical reality that underscores the importance of nurturing our well-being.
The journey of filling our cups begins at home, in the space where we spend a significant portion of our time and where our most intimate relationships unfold.
At home, we recharge, find solace, and cultivate the inner resources needed to navigate life’s challenges and contribute meaningfully to the world around us. At home, we lick our wounds, replenish our energy, and restore our sense of balance. At home, we nurture our relationships with loved ones, fostering connections that provide us with support and love. At home, we plant the seeds that bloom into our future selves.
Filling our cups ultimately begins at home.
__________________________________
Author’s email: [email protected]
