The Silver Lining Mining Co.

This morning marks the second day I've woken up in my new home. It's... not bad. There were no tears last night, nor the night before. I expected tears. I expected to cry myself to sleep, sobbing into my pillow quietly for fear of waking my new roommate.
That didn't happen, and I honestly feel guilty about it. Part of me believes there should have been tears. And there have been, believe me, many times in the past 10 days when I have simply stopped what I was doing and cried. But not here. Maybe it's because by the time I get in at night I'm exhausted, and I know how to make myself sleep quickly. Or maybe it's because I feel at home here. More traitorous "accepting the situation" bullshit. After all, if I can make myself happy here, then I can internalize the fact that this is not temporary. If I start to feather my own nest, and make myself happy by myself, I'm not waiting-or subconsciously expecting-K to call me and ask me to come 'home'.
Traitorous indeed.
But I do like my new place. Despite its drawbacks (thrown into bright, glaring detail when compared with my old home with K), it's charming. Up the hill, away from the cold and wet air by the ocean, but still in PG, this house has just about everything I need. It's old, uninsulated, the windows are single-pane, and apparently the walls are very thin. A, my new roomie, warned me that I'd be able to hear the TV, people talking, music, etc. What she wasn't able to warn me about is the thundering quiet I experienced going from sharing a room with another person to living by myself. She gets up around 5:30, is out by 7ish. I wake up around 8. She's home and in her room when I get home. She leaves me notes about what goes where, and yesterday there was a note with a bag of day-old pastries and some fruit she couldn't eat. So dinner was strawberries. And I'm not complaining, because I'm not looking to do girl-talk bonding with anybody right now. I'm glad of the space to think. It's just odd to think of how many less words I'm using daily, simply by virtue of not having anyone around the house.

**That's another odd thing about no longer living together. Permit me the digression, but I took K to Target day before yesterday. Since he doesn't have a car, if I'm going somewhere I'll sometimes offer him a ride. I found myself yakking his ear off on the trip over, and stopped myself. It felt weird. It wasn't nervous chatter, I wasn't hiding a feeling of discomfort. I simply had so much to say. I hadn't had a chance to engage with him in a while. Naturally, a lot of our conversations lately have been centered on how we're handling the situation. On Wednesday, I felt okay, and I wanted to talk to my friend. So I did. And I realized how much I had to say because we hadn't just gabbed in a week.
All the little things you see or experience in your day, the neat articles or stories from your professors, when you get home, you share with your partner. Like filling up a bucket with seashells while you're at the beach, and bringing them home to spill out on the counter for your partner to enjoy. But that's not how it works anymore.**

Anyway. I like my room, quiet though it is. My classes end at 2 today, so I'll come back here and start to put stuff away. And I'm looking forward to that. There's nobody here to say "I like it when the dresser is over here, and the 'whatever' goes there." I'm setting up shop the way I like it, and I don't have to appease anybody else's sensibilities. Gotta find those silver linings.
One of the biggest realizations I've had since last Tuesday is how to value myself. I know this seems like a non sequitur, but bear with me.
I've had low self-esteem for a while. I recognized it, but didn't know what to do. Possibly I didn't care. Doesn't matter. I didn't value myself as I should have. "What do I do" the thought would go "that is valuable?"
Since K and I split last Tuesday, I have found myself a new home, signed a lease, moved my shit, paid my bills, gone to work and done my schoolwork. I value myself because even though I'm in pain, even though sometimes I wish I could turn back time and erase everything that's happened since the night of the 13th, I'm still going. And all the things we did together, which were difficult, I'm doing by myself, often for the first time in my sheltered 28 years.
I value my strength. I value that I'm still laughing, and crying when the occasion warrants it. I value what sometimes feels like phantom limb pain, when I reach out to touch a relationship that no longer exists.
I think I can be happy here, in this room in PG. I've always been fiercely independent, and this room is a reminder of what I can accomplish, all by my self. It is, if I'm honest, rather exhilarating.