To Me. From Me

This week I discovered the amazing, two-storey Dymocks Bookstore in the city.  I spent an hour thoroughly losing myself amongst the shelves, poring over the titles and gulping deep breaths of that book smell that I so miss when I buy books online.  

Obviously, it was useless to resist the store's charms and I ended up buying three books.  

The first one I started reading straight away on the train home.  But the other two, I wrapped in gift paper with a note attached and addressed to myself in the future.  

These two books, gift-wrapped on my bookshelf, are going to be a present to myself when I finish my first year of university.  I'm only six weeks away from accomplishing this incredible milestone.  

Because I've been through so much this year, I thought that the best and truest way for me to celebrate would be to give myself something.  That something is permission to be very proud and happy.  

As great as it is to receive congratulations from my family, it isn't a substitute for telling myself that I'm proud.  I'm the person who I most need to hear that from.  

After all the exhaustive effort that I wrung out of myself to survive this year of study, I just need to admit to myself that 'I did good'.  That I am indefatigable and invincible.  That I can be beaten to the ground and still get back up.  

To me.  From me.  For everything I've been through.  For everything I am yet to dream of doing.  I just need to give myself permission to have this moment of happiness because I deserve it.  No one can take what I've learnt away from me.