I have never thought that watching a rendition of “The Climb” by Miley Cyrus will make me cry like there is no tomorrow. Listening to the lyrics, rhythm, and beats of the song suddenly leaves me in a disorderly state. It takes me to a different world, one filled with reminiscence and nostalgia. It makes me walk down memory lane, a childhood filled with rights, opportunities, and the reliance that everything can be sorted out, irrespective of my non-existing number of attempts. The comfort and luxury of that time naturally bring out the desire to be my younger self again, a yearning linked to the momentary incapability of not being able to deal with adult responsibility.
As a tiny part of the big bubble of people who are caught in the struggle of securing a home in the Netherlands, I thought a lot about the rightfulness of sharing my internal battles. Be it the decision of not commencing my search earlier, or the fact that I have quite a few individuals to lean on for support, I acknowledge my position of privilege. I understand that my journey is certainly one of the most lenient and comfortable ones within the bubble. Hence, this is neither an article full of rants nor a list of complaints. It is me addressing a distressing state of mind I have always heard of but never experienced. It is realizing that a lot of issues that initially seem superfluous to you can easily be a heavyweight in your life.
How many times does anyone, who like me, grew up with a roof over their head, think about the scenario of not having those four walls that are considered a necessity to live an average life? I do not think that I gave the latter enough thought – until now. By being caught in a room of people with no room, I see perspectives that I did not beforehand. I am going through less than one percent of what people without a shelter experience, and still feel the anxiety of a what-if. I am aware that I will not be without refuge due to my fortunate surroundings, and still cannot help but experience the unease when the search does not show progress.
It might just be me but, sometimes, everything in life can fall into place but only one divergence is needed to feel like imbalance hit you right in the face. Not only the fact that one misalliance can cause gloom to take the upper hand but also the impatience in aligning the mismatch is making me realize that I truly did not understand the value of the cushioning my house provided and the safety that came along. Wherever I lived, the meaning of a roof and four walls was never actually grasped.
So, what is my true takeaway from this ongoing rollercoaster ride? I could say that I am learning many things, be it the comfort of asking for help, the ability to deal with constant knockbacks, or working on being more patient. But more than anything I have one significant learning, I hope not to forget: Something that is a given to me and normalcy ever since I knew, can be a luxury to someone else, hard-earned in life, and not the only meaning to their existence.
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