When I was 14 years old, I told my best friend that 14 was the best age and I wanted to stay 14. But then you just have to grow up. It’s natural. So I grew up. I turned 15. I turned 17. I was like “Well, life is still cool. I’ve got a crush on someone, I’m fangirling over hot boyband members, I have many good friends…” And then I turned 20. I turned 25. I was like “Not bad. I’ve got a job. I’ve got a boyfriend. Some terrible things happened but I learned my lesson. I’m more mature. I have more new friends…” But entering July 2015 wasn’t easy for me.

Realizing that I was turning 30 freaked me out. 30 seemed scary. I was like “Why? Where did the time fly? I haven’t achieved enough. I don’t think I’ve made people I love proud of me. I don’t have any children. I’m old. I should have done this and that earlier.” I went to a cosmetics store to buy my first anti aging cream. I didn’t know why I did it. It just seemed like the right thing to do. I looked into the mirror and I hated the big girl there. I got cranky. I yelled at my brother for no reason. I wasn’t chatty. I wanted to be alone.

You might think I was too much. Yes I probably was, but I couldn’t help it.

In the class yesterday I told my students about how I felt. I told them I used to be proud of my birthday because the National Children’s Day fell on the same day. I told them why I was freaking out.

My students are the best people ever…

“Mrs. Mita, if it can make you feel better, when I was 30 I didn’t have a job. I had no career. You’re a good teacher and you should be proud of it.“

“Don’t worry Miss, you’ll have your own babies. My wife suffers from a heart disease. She can’t be pregnant. We will never have our own kids.“

“I think you’re the luckiest person I’ve known. You’ve had opportunities to travel for free. You write and people like your stories.“

“I freaked out when I turned 20. Like totally freaked out. You’ll get over it. ‘Cause I did.” This one was said by my Canadian friend.

My heart felt warm.

Thank you.

And now I’m officially 30 and I guess I’m no longer freaking out. I believe there are good things coming if I stay positive. I believe the future is exciting. 30 is only a number. I bet I can always be youthful like a fourteen, seventeen, twenty or twenty five year old… (with a bit backache).

I’ve read it somewhere: Being old doesn’t mean wrinkling, you still can keep rocking. I love this quote. It helped enliven me.

Oh! I’m also glad I did all my shit when I was a lot younger, more naive and stupid.

Dear 30, I’m ready!