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

So, this January, my friends and I decided to do dry Jan, but instead of booze, we gave up social media. At first, I was apprehensive; how will I know what people are up to? How will I cope not being tagged in hilarious memes by my friends? How will I know when people's birthdays are? Firstly, all the people who's birthdays I actually care about, I already know the date. I don't need a Facebook reminder. Its nice to wish someone a happy birthday, and its great to feel popular when you get 30+ messages on your own birthday, but is it really life changing if you don't / they don't? No. Anyway, Facebook was never the problem. Gone are the days when Facebook ruled and you could actually see what was going on in peoples lives... Now my feed is mostly dominated by random pointless videos and ads. Instagram however, is a whole different monster. I've lost count of the hours wasted scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, looking at... well... I can't e...

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? ...

So we've got two new kittens... Daisy and Duke.  'Omg dey soooo cute!' I hear you all cry! Yes. Yes they are.  When you look at these adorable little fur balls on Instagram, they just look heavenly. So why am I going into some sort of post feline-natal meltdown? How the hell will I cope with a baby if I worry at least 15 times a day that one kitten will poke its eye out on the cactus, push the TV over on his sister or get caught in the mechanics of the reclining chair? I know they are about the size of my fist and can barely push a meow out, but when you live in the dramatic thriller of my mind, this becomes a strong possibility. And why does everything smell like poo? I can literally smell poo everywhere and now have this constant paranoia that I smell like cat shit.  My morning thought process now consists of the following: 1. Checking my shoes and clothes 3 times now for skid marks because I am definitely aware of a shitty aroma in the vicinity. ...