I am on the brink of turning 30. And you know what? I’m not even mad about it. I know what you’re thinking. “30 is still a baby” “That’s still young” “I don’t even remember being 30” You know what I have to say to all that, “save it, sister.” When you’re exiting a complete decade, it seems like kind of a big deal. My entire identity for the last 10 years has been linked to “my twenties.” This is not a blog about being old. This has nothing to do with the inevitability of aging. This is about transition. It’s about personal growth. It’s about noticing the subtle, gradual changes that occur every single day, and then you wake up one morning realizing that you’ve done a 180. A lot happens in a decade. I think of who I was at 20 and who I am at 29. I feel like those two people are not even from the same planet. I can’t help but feel a giddy sense of excitement about my future. I can’t wait to look back when I am 39 and say the same thing about 30, “t...