'For all women terrified about turning 30, I hear you. But you shouldn't be afraid.' 

The other day I glanced at the calendar and happened to notice that on that very day, I was exactly 29 and a half years old.

Which of course means there’s less than six months until my twenties are over. I’m rolling down that steep slope heading for 30.

Thirty? That’s closer to 40 than 20. Which is in turn closer to 50. And 60.

Oh god, I’m almost 60!

I remember the panic I felt inside when I was turning 20 and my teenage years were over… let me just say the feeling of turning 30 is very similar to that, but magnified by about 17 billion.

Turning 30 is scary. Up until now, I’ve floated along quite happily, never really slowing to think of my mortality.

But it’s hard to ignore the truth when the stark reality of age is staring me right in the face every time I look in the mirror.

Fine lines and wrinkles have started to appear on my face, and what’s with these random hairs popping up on my chin? You know, those super long ones that are only visible from a certain angle, and you almost die when you become aware of their existence, hastily rummaging for some tweezers. I can almost see the collagen flying out of my face like tiny ghosts of my youth, howling as they float away. Let’s not even discuss the cellulite that has started to appear on the back of my legs.

I’m noticing my youth disappearing, and it’s kind of depressing.

I contemplate my life goals. Are they on track? Am I where I wanted to be by now? Am I measuring up to the imaginary timeline I created in my head?

Not married yet? FAIL. Not working the dream job yet? FAIL.

I mean there’s still plenty of time but… FAIL. You’re taking too long.

As I stared at that little white box on the calendar that marked my half birthday, my eyes widened and glazed over as I stood frozen in an almost catatonic state, with all these thoughts racing through my mind.

I thought back to a decade ago, when I was feeling this very same way about turning 20. Isn’t that a laugh now? I mean seriously. Hopefully that’s how I’ll feel about this moment when I’m approaching 40. I realise that despite the high anxiety I felt about entering my twenties, they turned out to be some of the best years of my life. They have been pivotal years that changed me right down to my very core. The last decade has pummelled and pulled at me, stretched and strengthened me, and I’m a completely different person than I was at the start.

Would 20-year-old me be proud of who I am now? I know she would be. In fact, I think she’d be a little disillusioned by how ridiculously different her life is now.

I haven’t reached all my goals, but isn’t that a good thing? I still have so many dreams to achieve, yet now the fire of determination within me is burning so much more ferociously as the winds of time keep blowing by, adding fuel to my dreams. What were once warm embers are now burning flames, finally catching light and bringing forth a light and warmth stronger than ever before.

I’m nearly 30, and despite the ageing process I face every time I look in the mirror, I feel more confident in myself now. I care less what people think, my mindset has morphed. I feel more driven, more determined, and I finally have a better idea of what I want in life. We all do when we’re nearly 30.

It’s a time of deep thought and reflection, we’re almost in the middle of our lives. It’s time now to change what we aren’t happy with, to pursue our dreams, and to make sure we are living the life we want to.

But the one thing you truly must never forget as you enter you thirties?

MOISTURISER.

Speaking of turning 30, these amazing women only hit the big time after 30.