'You feel trapped and insane.' Welcome to the 'panic years' of your early 30s.

Puberty and menopause. Two of the most significant phases of transformation in a woman’s life; ones that bring physiological change and emotional upheaval. 

But perhaps there’s another phase in between.

British writer Nell Frizzell thinks so. She’s even named it: the panic years (which is also the title of her book on the subject).

Watch: The things I wish I did in my thirties. Post continues below.

Speaking to Mamamia’s No Filter podcast, the author and columnist for The Guardian and Vogue argued that the period spanning age 28 to 35 deserves as much recognition as other major life-stages experienced by cis-gendered women. Because these are the years in which women wrestle with the urge to have children. 

"There is this series of physiological or biological changes or a reckoning that happens where you suddenly understand the finite nature of your fertility. And so you are looking at the mechanics of your body in a different way, and you feel different in your body," she said. 

"I've heard it a lot from people that it's like having a fever. It descends with a kind of sweating, panicky compulsion."

The panic comes not just from the biological urge itself, but from the fact that it typically collides with — and can even be suppressed by — outside forces. Think medical issues, relationships, finances, housing security, career, pressure from family, and more. 

Nell describes it as "a web of social and biological restrictions that make you feel trapped and insane." Some women feel like they’re failing or like they're going mad. They ask themselves over and over, 'Can I have children? Should I have children?' Or perhaps, 'Should I want to?'

For Nell, this phase of flux happened when she was about 28.

"It was like a combination of being incredibly horny, really thirsty and very tired. I needed [to try to fall pregnant] so much. Biologically, psychologically, emotionally, I just wanted to be trying," she said. "I knew it might not work. I knew I might not be able to conceive. I knew I might have a miscarriage. I knew that I might not have a healthy baby at the end of it. I'm aware enough of the realistic dangers of pregnancy, but I just wanted to feel like I was trying."

Nell’s panic stemmed partially from the fact that her husband wasn’t initially interested in starting a family.

Nell explained her need to him. She tried to counter his arguments; she showed him bank statements to prove their financial readiness, and she took him on the kind of holidays he was sure would be out of the question. In the end, she even begged. 

He ultimately agreed to try. It led to a little boy.

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While questioning if and when to have children isn’t a new thing, Nell argues the sense of panic is more acute for millennial women than any preceding generation.

Previously, she said, "Women weren't necessarily going to be working full time. They didn't necessarily have access to contraception. And there hadn't necessarily been enough years of the feminist or Women's Liberation Movement telling them that there was an alternative way.

"So they didn't have the feeling of choice... and choice is great. But as anyone who's ever been to a restaurant with more than six people knows, choice can also be awful. It can stymie you, it can paralyse you, it can confuse you, it can cause horrible arguments and indecision and personal anxiety."

Which is why Nell believes it’s about time we acknowledged that challenge so that women don’t have to carry the burden on their own.

"I wanted us all to have a name for it, I wanted us to have a shared common language and a shorthand, because it felt so unfair. I knew this thing was happening to millions of women, and I knew that it was being dismissed, or more easily dismissed, because we didn't have a vocabulary to describe it. And so you could just say, 'Oh, my colleague at work is just being a bit unreliable,' or 'My friend has just become really flaky,' or 'I haven't seen my sister for ages.'

"If we could say, 'I think she's in her panic years,' there would be an understanding that might mean significant, emotional or physical turmoil, and that they might need a different kind of support."

The good thing about the panic year is it's just that — a phase. It will pass.

"Whether you have kids or not, you will have times of such simple beauty and such heartfelt, miraculous joy, that it makes the panic seem— not irrelevant, but purposeful," she said. "I'm glad I went through the panic years. I'm glad I did all that processing. I'm glad I confronted my demons. I'm glad I pushed and punched and wept and bit and f**ked and screamed my way through them. Because what I got after them has been, at times, brilliant. And I would hope that for everybody."

To hear more about Nell’s take on 'the panic years', including where men stand amid it all, listen to No Filter below.