Reflections on the art of blossoming and the potential of growth

We often liken our lives to the growth of plants. If someone matures later than expected, they’re labeled a “late bloomer.” The act of losing one’s virginity is termed “deflowering,” and we speak of individuals “blossoming” as they reach their milestones.

In contrast, those who seem to flourish too quickly are often dismissed as weeds—growing inappropriately and hastily, making them targets for removal.

Or perhaps they are akin to a slow-growing flower that, given the chance, could bloom beautifully but is prematurely uprooted.

It’s curious how we sometimes extend more compassion to plants than to our fellow human beings.

As someone who identifies as a late bloomer, I often reflect on how I wished for the time and care necessary to truly thrive.

Seeking the Sun, Smothered By Weeds

Certain plants naturally thrive in their environments, thriving even in less-than-ideal conditions. Yet, if they are deemed undesirable, they face early removal.

For years, I admired those weeds, wishing I could adapt effortlessly to my surroundings. I found inspiration in Elle Woods from Legally Blonde, who, despite her superficial upbringing, achieved her dreams simply through belief. When her college advisor expressed doubt about her ambitions, she confidently declared, “I don’t need backups. I’m going to Harvard.”

Setting aside the convenient Hollywood narrative, I adopted that mindset. It proved effective; I gained admission to various prestigious programs, including a competitive science camp and a graduate school.

However, I was continuously searching for validation, wanting to feel that I belonged rather than relying solely on my resilience. This quest led to challenges when, after receiving a grant for my documentary, a department head jokingly suggested taking it from me. My achievements felt diminished, as if my gender overshadowed my ideas. Throughout my academic journey, I often found myself justifying my studies on media violence to skeptical professors.

In the end, I felt like a weed that was merely allowed to grow due to neglect, only to be uprooted once I began to thrive.

Growing Into My True Purpose

Eventually, I recognized that academia wasn’t the right fit for me. I lacked the ingratiating nature and patience to navigate a low-paying and often disheartening environment. I redirected my anthropological insights into marketing, transforming my cultural awareness into effective communication and earning a decent salary.

Yet again, I found myself a late bloomer. While peers were starting families and purchasing homes, I was finally establishing my career and saving money. The fallout from the Great Recession and rising living costs turned what should have been a modest lifestyle into a significant financial burden.

I often observed the criticism against liberal arts degrees as being impractical, though I disagreed. My STEM background didn’t shield me either; the demand in that field was overwhelming, leading to a saturated job market.

I sought a meaningful career, one that resonated with my passions, and marketing provided that outlet.

It took me time to identify this passion. Many people around me seemed to follow a predetermined path—Point A to Point B to Point C—without room for exploring their unique journeys.

I realized I had been forced into roles throughout my life, which explained my difficulty in finding the right path. People wanted me to leverage my skills for their gain, often at the expense of fair compensation.

Ultimately, I discovered my purpose lay in storytelling. Perhaps being a late bloomer was preferable to spending years trapped in the corporate grind.

The Perpetual Single

Reconciling my relationship status with my aspirations has been challenging. As a teenager, I envisioned a picturesque beach wedding adorned with seashells and tiki decorations.

This vision never materialized. Despite my income, I could only afford the basic marriage license, leading me to organize a free ceremony during a burlesque show, with my producer officiating the event.

While the experience was memorable, it felt inadequate. I lacked the chance to invest in a traditional ceremony or host a reception, and each congratulatory remark from guests deepened my sense of isolation.

Being a late bloomer extends beyond achieving milestones later than peers; it also encompasses missing out on significant life experiences.

I never attended prom, succumbing to insecurities that led me to decline the invitation. My boyfriend, eager to participate, attended with a cousin instead. This event marked a painful moment of feeling unfulfilled and isolated. If only I had understood its significance to him, I might have gone.

This is the burden of the late bloomer—existing just outside the norm, feeling lost while harboring ambition. This struggle continued throughout my twenties as I seemingly bypassed opportunities for lasting love, leaving me feeling broken.

In an attempt to compensate for my delayed blooming, I embraced every romantic opportunity that arose, though it felt fundamentally wrong. I later identified as demisexual, realizing that I couldn't form sexual connections without emotional attachment.

Sadly, my past relationships often fell short, leading to misunderstandings where I was labeled “crazy” or “a tease.” It felt unjust that I had to justify my rejections rather than my affirmations. The late bloomer’s plight is to feel grateful instead of fulfilled, convenient rather than confident.

Learning the Art of Blossoming

Before long, I found myself torn between the perception of youth and the realities of adulthood. While employed temporarily at a government agency, my supervisor frequently labeled me as an “intern,” encouraging others to do the same. The shock was palpable when I clarified that I was neither a student nor an intern.

This misunderstanding took a toll on my self-esteem, making me question my worth at that stage of my life.

I needed to learn how to flourish. I pursued skill development and sought higher-paying positions with determination.

Unfortunately, my attempts in traditional employment didn’t pan out. Each employer wanted to pay me a pittance for my expertise, culminating in an experience that left me heartbroken. Yet, I arrived at an inconvenient but empowering realization: the responsibility to bloom rested with me.

Due to various factors—economic downturns, my field of study, my neurodivergent perspective, and gender—traditional paths to a prosperous career and fulfilling romance weren’t viable. Thus, I resolved to seize every opportunity and transform my late blooming into a magnificent blossoming.

We are more than the narratives society imposes on us. It may take years to uncover our true potential, but we shouldn’t feel ashamed for not conforming to arbitrary timelines. I do wish I had experienced the milestones of education, marriage, and homeownership, but as someone passionate about storytelling, my journey serves to share a more authentic narrative.

Life doesn’t always follow a straightforward route. We may blossom unexpectedly, miss our peers’ moments of growth, and see our unique blooms overlooked.

Yet, similar to an orchid flourishing in a dense rainforest, our growth occurs on our own schedules. If others fail to notice, that is their loss.

Blooming late is far better than never blooming at all.

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