If you’ve ever been burned in the past, destroyed, crushed and somehow managed to pick the pieces of yourself together again.

If you’ve ever had first dates and first kisses and late mornings spent in bed together.

If you’ve ever thought you had your happy ending, only to hit a wall.

If you’ve ever created barriers and walls and surrounded your heart by stones because you just can’t take one more heartbreak.

You’ll know there is nothing more terrifying and exciting that opening yourself up to a new relationship with someone and all that goes with it.

I don’t dip my toe into the pool, I dive in all or nothing. Hoping this one doesn’t end in a belly flop.

Sometimes it just feels good to get things off your chest. So here are a few of my latest guilty confessions…..

• I stopped watching Mad Men part way through Season 4 just because it became soooooo boring.
• I hate a lot of vegetables in raw form- carrots, broccoli and cauliflower being at the top of that list.
• I hope Carl on the Walking Dead gets bitten. I hate that kid after the last episode.
• Even though I haven’t eaten meat in close to 17 years sometimes I still crave meat. Like badly. It makes me feel like a bad vegetarian.
• Sometimes I think of dying my hair brown, but am far too much of a scaredy-cat. I’ve been a redhead my whole life & associate it with part of my identity.
• I know more about Canadian hockey than I do about Canadian politics.
• If you watch Jersey Shores, I judge you as being a part of what’s wrong in the world.
• I love twitter crushes and it bums me out that I haven’t had one for awhile.
• I agreed to do an upcoming 5k run with a friend for charity. But after having the flu followed by bronchitis, don’t think I’ll be ready. But feel bad backing out cause it’s for a good cause.
• I’m slightly annoyed that my time of unemployment is winding down, as I enjoyed it more than I care to admit.
• I still need to see The Big Lebowski, Donnie Darko and about 30 other cult classic films.
• I literally think I could eat sushi every single day and not get sick of it and if I had the $ I would test that theory just for kicks.
• I really wish I had kept my SuperNintendo and not sold it years ago. I miss Super Mario3.

So there’s a mouthful of my dirty, dirty confessions and I have to say that felt good to share. What sort of guilty confessions to you have to share? This is a place of catharsis, not judgement- spill!

I haven’t gotten much into this issue on my blog, and I won’t in the sense of coming across as whiny- but for the past calender year my weight has been a touch and go issue for myself. Once reveled as being naturally stick thin, and being one of those girls that can “eat whatever you want without gaining a pound” I coasted through much of my twenties without a care in the world of calorie counting or fitness. My mom referred to me as ‘Twiggy’ like the model and  I wore that nickname with a sense of pride.

But then I turned thirty and a few things changed. First off my metabolism decided it had enough power walking and we were gonna slow down and enjoy the ride. Unfortunately it’s something I was warned about as a genetic family trait in my twenties, but was far too busy EATING WHATEVER I WANTED to pay attention. The second thing was that in the face of unbelievable tragedy, I turned to food. Too old really revel in promiscuity and binge drinking as escapes anymore, I turned to the socially acceptable poison- food. Me and Oprah ate every feeling in the god damned rainbow, and then when I was so full I felt nauseous- well then I ate some more.

Binge eating as a way of quenching feelings is a new thing to deal with- and comes with a whole new set of rules and problems. My mom doesn’t understand why I don’t want to take her delicious cookies when she drops them off anymore, and is hurt as a result. But what my mom doesn’t realize, which I have explained time and time again- is if you drop off 6 buttertarts to me, I will not only eat them but I will eat them in one sitting. And then I will continue to see what I can eat on top of that because if I just injected 1700 calories, what’s a few more going to matter.

Expect it does matter. Mentally and physically.

The thing with weight gain is it creeps up on you. First the pants just seem a bit tight- and then they don’t fit so you get some different ones. Sz 0 (I was a size 0 at one point? That blows my mind) turned into Sz 2 and then Size 4 and Size 6. I avoided clothes shopping and mirrors and tried to make light of the jiggle in my arms and the “food baby” tummy. I dabbled in exercise and healthy eating, but only as a lighter note (because in my mind I’m still a size 0 remember?). It wasn’t until the day that I saw myself in a photograph and gasped because it didn’t look like me. It looked like a rounder, unhappier version of who I wanted to be. I stepped on the scale and saw when the damage was done I’d gained 40 lbs. Not nearly as bad as it could be, but not where I want to be either. Being a petite woman with a tiny bone structure, I knew I was outside of my comfort zone.

The trip back to getting where I was has been a struggle and a humbling one. First off, I am comfortable knowing I will never be a size zero again. When I was that small I was gaunt- I had no curves, and I do feel more womanly with my curves, even if they aren’t quite in the right places yet. Secondary- losing weight is not easy. No shit, eh? I admit- that as someone who has been naturally thin for the bulk of my twenties, it baffled my mind when people said they wanted to lose weight. I would think, “well, then just lose it?!” confused as to how it seemed to be a process.

Because it is just that. A fucking. hard. process.

It means ordering a salad at a restaurant, even though you want the french fries that are on every single other plate at the table but french fries don’t help you to fit into skinny jeans. It means working out until you sweat and gasp for air, and then working out even harder because you know that you have to burn 3500 calories just to shed one. measly pound.  It means that every single time I sit on the couch and eat from a bag of chips I no longer get to see it as as enjoyable activity, but a guilt inducing one. Every single day is a struggle. A bitter struggle with myself and trying to find a place between motivated and content. I’m not there yet, and I have no idea when I will get there honestly.

The process is paying off, slowly but surely. I have lost fifteen pounds. I have more to go, but it shows it is possible. Every single day is a struggle between not finding happiness in a number, or a dress size, getting off the couch, doing something and between giving up because it’s just not fair that you can’t have some fucking beers with friends without worrying about the repercussions. 

I don’t hold myself to the bar of wanting to have a model’s body or be a certain weight, as I know both are unrealistic and unattainable. As a woman, I will fluctuate weight, sometimes daily. But I read on Angela Liddon’s blog ‘Oh She Glows’ that without self love you have nothing and I would like to believe that goal is attainable some day.

The thing about losing your job due to downsizing is that along with the financial instability, stress and abundance of time everyone continually chimes in about it being a blessing to have the chance to “Finally do what you want to.”

Yes, along with making poverty casseroles and buying single ply toilet paper I’ve now become inundated about how the world is my oyster and I can do and be anything I can be. The only problem, I have no fucking clue what I want to be when I grow up.

Now, I know a lot of people don’t necessarily have that urge to “be” something when you grow up, but you find yourself in a career where you jusity the hours spent by the finances gained, and you make the best of it. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that’s the story of most people. I don’t know too many people that when filling out the high school career aptitude wheel were delighted to find out they had a daunting future in retail or gas pumping. But it is what it is.

When I think about options, I know I have no future in health care as any bodily fluids makes me gag, and mathematics are out as well as fractions are still pretty fucking hard. Although my degree is in both Public Relations and writing, I’m not necessarily great at either. I have no career in the arts, as stick figures are my forte and it took two years of theatre school before I realized I really can’t act. Office jobs have always been my backup, but more and more office jobs are requiring both Excel and Accounting skills, neither which I possess. I am way too high strung to work in a restaurant field, and am far too honest for sales. I am too awkward to really hold a place in any sort of social setting, and don’t have the leadership skills for management. My driving skills are sub par at best, and I wear my heart on my sleeve so a career in any sort of social services would be vetoed for a long term plan.

When it all boils down to it I am over educated, under skilled and when I think about the things I’m good at tweeting, being a walking thesaurus, organizing stuff, and making a mean Caesar come to mind. None of these really equate sound career choices or fields.

Along with just a sarcastic, and pathetic rant of how much I suck there is honesty in this post about how at 31 I have no. fucking. clue of where to go next. Back to school to discover another disciple? To another office job to hopes of making it work?  I can only wish I was one of those people that just quit their job one day to open up a cupcake business, but instead find cupcakes overrated and have no inkling to bake for a living. All I know if how the fuck am I supposed to follow my dreams, if I have no idea what my niche is, much less what that dream is?

All I know is until that point comes along I’ll be making poverty casserole, over-thinking things, and possibly trading in my car for a convertible to complete my new midlife crisis look.

When unemployed, the most important call you will get is the one for an interview. I’ve been fortunate enough to have a been on the receiving end of a few of them lately (knock on wood) but unfortunately the timing is a little off.

For example, do I get the interview call when I’m sitting on my couch for roughly 186 hours of the day? No.

So far I have been on the receiving end of the elusive call while at a noisy pub mid afternoon.  Like before 2pm. While it was obvious pub background noise. Yarg. I have been on the receiving end when someone dared for call me before 9am, therefore answering the phone to the professional tone of “whfrhjgdrgh..zzzzz….whatta you want?”  Double yarg.

And then there’s today, when the call didn’t come between the hours of 8-11am when parked on said couch, it came promptly after hopping into the shower setting off a chain of events such as slipping on soap (who does that outside of slapstick comedy?) grabbing the shower curtain for balance, taking the shower curtain down with me, and then falling onto the floor as a wet, beached rolled up shower curtain burrito.

Fuck. This is why voicemail was invented. I’m done with answering my phone. Potential places of employment can text me the info.

I hate resolutions for New Years, yet after such a tumultuous and tempest year feel there needs to be some sort of definitive point for going into 2012.  Right now on paper, I am not necessarily the poster child for success. 31, single, unemployed, and uncertain are all crosses I currently bear.

That being said, I also right now am afforded the luxury of having a clean slate. I don’t have a job that pays me well enough to stay, but is swarming with politics and snide commentary. I don’t have to worry about whether a guy is “the one” or where it’s going. And I certainly don’t have to worry about where my next pay cheque is coming from, courtesy of the pizza cash the government is throwing at me weekly.

So rather than make one or two pointed resolutions for the year, I’ve decided to start a list of things that are NOT going to happen instead.

I’m NOT going to dwell on 2011. It was a rough year, and a hard year, but it is over.  It’s time to move forward.

I’m NOT going to find happiness in a magic number on a scale but though the confidence I have wearing skinny jeans.

I’m NOT going to accept a job based on pay, location, or how it looks on a resume. I’m going to accept a job based on the fit, and the overall sense of satisfaction.

I’m NOT going to contemplate a breast reduction. My boobs are fantastic, just the way they are.

I’m NOT going to stop having the occasional pint of beer, the cigarette to go with (when drinking) or the extra cheese on my poutine.

That being said I’m NOT going to look for excuses to not go to the gym and I’m NOT going to give up on Zumba despite being the worst one in the class every week.

I’m NOT going to stop spending all my money on iTunes, sushi, and Value Village finds. But I’m NOT going to put anything on my already maxed out credit card either.

I’m NOT going to feel guilty for starting to enjoy this brief stint into unemployment, but I’m NOT going to stop looking for work and poounding the pavement either.

I’m NOT going to rely on social media as such an outlet in 2012, and have decided that weekends are going to be unplugged. That’s probably the scariest thing to ponder to date, which is why it’s also probably one of the most neccesary.

I’m NOT going to stop taking my anxiety medication in 2012, as I know the good it does for me. And yet I’m NOT going to beat myself up for it if I do.

I’m NOT going to waste my time by not writing. Whether through freelance, or this blog, or one of the ten novel ideas floating around in my head.

And I’m NOT going to worry about who reads, comments, or follows this thing anymore .

If I had balls, 2011 could lick them.

Friend, passed away. Relationship, gone. Job, over.

2012 is going to kick ass. Other than that whole world ending thing.

Disclaimer: one of my best friends Shane had a sudden stroke yesterday at the age of 30. Right now he is in for the fight of his life, and this week is going to be touch and go based on brain swelling. If he passes, he will join his brother who suddenly passed on Wednesday. Right now all we can do is pray and keep him in our thoughts for a recovery. If you could pray for him and his family or keep them in your thoughts too, it would be deeply appreciated right now.

I managed to spend almost a week at the Olympics. I learned to snowboard. I got sunburnt. I discovered new food. I also discovered new allergies.I reconnected. I started to heal and grow old friendships gone awry. I cut the ties on those that weren’t healthy. I drank wine. I laughed. I cried. I fell down. I got back up again.

I went camping, and spent time at the lake. I finally acquired a grown up apartment. I still haven’t hung more pictures on my wall. I gained weight. I obsessed over it. I accepted it. I grew to be okay with it. I had acquantences turn into real friendships, and friendships strengthen to family. I took a break from blogging. I took a break from everything. I focused on the now, and the moment. I didn’t look in the past . I closed the door on my Mr. Big. I don’t regret it, even during the lonely times.

I had health problems that started slowly and snowballed. I read up about them, I studied then. I met with specialists. I heard scary words. I had appointments, which lead to biopsies, which lead to surgery. I healed. I am now better. I am lucky.

I fell in love. I did all the right things. I became part of a family. I realized for the first time I make a good partner. I accepted a little girl into my life. I fell deeply in love with her.I realized maybe life with children isn’t so scary. I realized what I had been denying all along. That my maternal instict isn’t dead, but very much alive. I tended to the house and found love in simple routines and cooking. I met family and friends. I had anniversary dinners. I made long term plans. I house shopped. I made love. I had inside jokes. I was part of a unit.

I listened to my gut instinct. I questioned. I walked away. I don’t regret it. I had dark moments, and raw moments and moments of blackness that swallow you whole.I felt empty. I had my sense of purpose shattered. I had friends and family pick me up. I had friends emotionally spoon feed me when the nerve endings were to raw to do so. I realized that I have more love in my life that I could ever be thankful for. I vented. I cried. I found strength in life again. I am still not on solid grounds. But I am getting there.

I am mapping out a new future. I bought myself a ring. I am breeching the possibility of dating again. I am scared to do so, but also somewhat excited. I am focusing on the now. But I am not scared of the future. I am working on making healthy choices in my life. I am not missing my twenties.

I am wondering what the next 365 days have to bring.

Taking a page from my lovely neighbour, friend and famed blogger Amber I have a few December confessions to share…

• I have no idea what wikileaks are, and I read the newspaper every day. I just skip over that section as it seems kinda boring. I suspect it has something to do with wikipedia. No joke.

• I keep meaning to take part in #reverb10 but that means rehashing and reflecting on the past of this year, and I’m not ready to do that on this blog yet. Right now blogging is a means for me to move forward from my relationship over the past year.

• I don’t know if I’m ever going to be on my feet financially, and I’ve all but given up trying.

• I hate shortbread cookies. There. I said it.

• I’m tired of being the funny girl. I want to be the pretty girl. Laziness and genetics get in the way, but I want to start to make an effort to change that. I know it’s shallow, and I should be better than that, but I’m not. Pretty girls get noticed. I do not.

• I keep pushing for a promotion at work, but honestly I’m not sure if I’d be good in a higher level position. I have the smarts and the interpersonal skills, but I suspect I’m not good management material. I avoid conflict and am passive aggressive in how I deal with it. I also have the math skills of a seven year old (no joke). But I still want the financial stability that goes with a higher position.

• Glee Christmas special made me cry. Actually a lot of Glee episodes make me cry.

• I’m obviously reverting back into a highschool mentality, because right now more than dating and more than sex I just want someone to make out with. That’s all. Just a good ol fashioned make out session til your lips feel chapped. Preferably in the falling snow. Or my new bed.

• If my mother gives me one more pair of skanky panties or lingerie for Christmas, I’m threatening to tie my tubes permanently.Grandchildren will happen in due time, with or without the help. It’s gone from cute to creepy.

• Some days I worry that I’ll never havea relationship with a guy that’s as good as the one I have with my cat.

• I hate autocorrect only for the fact that it can kill a good sexting conversation.

What are your confession so far this week?