DURING the pandemic, while the rest were occupied with the trends of dalgona coffee and the Tiger King, my family and I were suddenly hit with the news that we didn’t actually own the house we were living in, despite having been under the impression that we did. 

From being sure that I would be living in this place until I grew old, out of nowhere, I found myself packing my entire life into boxes, bringing them to a home that I could only describe to be temporary. 

Here’s how I kept myself sane through all of that–or at least, sane for the most part.

1. Let this be a chance to reinvent yourself

Never mind the fact that you’ve essentially been kicked out of the only home you’ve known your whole life. This move means that you can start your life anew; you’ll be living in a new neighborhood in a different city for the first time, after all. Why not let this move help you discover an entirely new side of yourself? 

How are you going to decorate your new room? What clothes are you going to stack up in your new wardrobe? What aesthetic will you be bringing with you alongside this new journey? 

Be sure to plan everything out as you scurry to find a new house to stay in within a matter of months. It’ll be a great distraction from actually dealing with the problem at hand. 

2. Learn to compartmentalize 

It’s easy to get consumed by anger amid all of this. Who wouldn’t be angry if they had to leave something they were so sure would be theirs until their death?

And it’s easy to get even angrier at the people that ensured your move would happen: family members whom you once looked at as shoulders to cry on, suddenly asking when you’re going to leave, or if you’ve already found a new home. (What is it with Filipino families, always fighting about property?)

When that happens, it gets harder and harder to trust people–to know who truly has your back and who doesn’t. And alongside that, don’t forget you have to deal with the grief of losing your home, too. 

The stairs you fell over and over again as a kid. The refrigerator with a broken handle you’d stand in front of come the hot summer days. The stars on the ceiling you’d pasted long ago, so long that they no longer glow. The realization that you have to leave all of this behind will hit you out of nowhere and it’s hard not to feel disoriented, like your throat’s closing up and your heart is thrumming to get out of your chest and there’s nothing you can do.

That’s why compartmentalization is important. Learn to control your emotions in the short time you have; tick the to-do list’s boxes and then cry about it afterward. Because how else are you going to get things done? How else are you going to survive? 

3. Don’t forget that you have to do this. You have to 

You never really liked your old house, truth be told. You thought it was too old, and that it needed remodeling; often you shied away from bringing people home because of the mess constantly residing in different parts inside of it. 

But when out of the blue you’re being forced to leave a place forever, it’s hard not to suddenly come to love all of its quirks: the broken floor tiles, the paint peeling on the walls, the cracks in the ceiling, which all start to feel like home. And it’s hard to leave home, and even harder when you’re doing it forever. 

Allow yourself to fall in love with the place in the few months that you have left. Allow yourself to hug the walls, to lay on the carpet with your eyes closed and your arms wrapped around yourself. Allow yourself to love this place as much as you can before you leave, no matter how bizarre this love may look.

This is better, after all, than just leaving without so much as a second glance. Trust me when I say that in the long run, that will sting much deeper.

4. Take the time to say goodbye

Like Jack in the movie ‘Room’ (2015), it’s okay to take your time. You’re leaving forever, after all; you at least have the right to get your affairs in order while you still can. 

Bye, plant. Bye, table. Bye, wardrobe. Bye, Hello Kitty beanbag chair. Bye, old BTS posters on the wall that I always forgot to take down. Bye, picture with a group of friends that I no longer talk to. Bye, dried-up highlighters. Bye, poem of Laura Gilpin’s ‘Two-Headed Calf’ that I scrawled drunkenly on the cabinet door. Bye to the only four walls I’ve known my entire life. I’m going to miss you.”

And finally, with bated breath, “Bye, room.”

5. Bring your heart with you, too

The news of moving out–to us at least–came in waves of uncertainty, and then finality ended with a tide of finality. With how hectic everything had been throughout those many months, it sometimes felt like none of it was real–like it was all a big joke, somehow, and Andrew Kutcher would eventually pop out of the curtain and tell me with a big dopey grin that I was on Jackass.

I kept waiting for that to happen until eventually, I found myself in a new house that belonged to the other side of our family–another house that we didn’t own, that we were staying in temporarily until we could get back on our feet, however long that may take. 

I’m not going to lie and say that I find myself as happy in our new home as I was at my last. But I am happy, at least. There is a garden here, and it’s cold enough at night that an air conditioner isn’t even needed. We are surrounded by plants, and there are no more screaming matches from our old neighbors next door. 

And I know that this is not home, and I do not know if it will ever be, but for now, it’s where my heart is. It’s where my heart will be staying. 

For now, there’s no other choice but to find happiness and bury it in the new cracks along the walls.