Don't Tell Tara - the inner workings of a chronic oversharer

I am a confident woman. People think I am a confident woman. I wish I was a confident woman.  I want to be a confident woman.  I used to be a confident woman  Can anyone relate to any of the above?  The chances are, you can probably relate to all of the above in some way.  My journey is ongoing. It is never ending. It is a love story in progress. Probably the love story I have struggled with the most.  I don’t really know where to start, because I can’t really tell you where it started.  So let’s start at rock bottom.  I found myself in a destructive relationship. I knew I was in it, I knew what was going on, but I just couldn’t get out.  It was emotionally destructive rather than physically, but I still bore scars.  My confidence was broken down until I felt like I didn’t deserve anything better; I felt like I was lucky to be loved at all.  The issue was clearly his own insecuritie...

We’re 8 months deep in 2018, and I am slowly (and reluctantly) coming round to the fact that, in 32 days, I will be 30 years old. I have nearly been alive for 3 decades. Halfway to 60. Let’s just chew on that for a second.   No, I’m not okay with it yet – I wish I had the cushion of a couple more years in my twenties, because everything sounds so much more grown up when you’re 30. You’re a real, fully fledged adult. That’s what they tell you anyway. My friend said something to me when we were discussing the impending birthday, that was both obvious yet surprising.   The period between 20 and 30 is probably the most dramatic, life changing decade of your life. You literally grow up. You go from being a teenager with minimum responsibility and the world at your feet, to paying bills, worrying about your metabolism, going to 15 weddings a year and organising baby showers. Yep, that escalated quickly. So, if I could do it all again, would I do anything different? ...