You’re Not Running Out of Time: Why the Idea of Early and Late Bloomers Misses the Point

I flunked math. Then reading. Then writing.

By the time I was fifteen, I’d collected learning disabilities like trophies: dyscalculia, dyslexia, dysgraphia. My English teacher probably thought I was lazy. My classmates concluded I was a dummy. Well, we can’t really blame them, can we?

I looked around at the other kids winning national competitions, the neighbour getting scouted by football clubs, and friends immigrating abroad to further their education, while I was still trying to spell “entrepreneurship”. 

What nobody told me then, what nobody might have told you now, is that the “designated time” when “success” is supposed to happen is arbitrary. And the anxiety that comes from these designated timelines destroys your peace and hampers your growth. 

Yet, we run with these timelines: crawl by six months, walk by one year, master a skill by 12,  pick a career path by 22, marry by 28, own a multi-million naira business by 30, become a household name before 50. And sadly, when we miss these targets, it punctures our ego – we feel like we’re damaged goods, or failures – the example parents use to warn their children.

Society as a whole has invented two categories of individuals, early bloomers and late bloomers, to further solidify these arbitrary timelines. Both labels further intensify the issue with the timelines. 

Come with me through this piece, and you’ll see what I mean, and hopefully, how to break free from the unnecessary pressure, bloom at your own timeline, and feel at peace with it all.

The False Binary We’re Living By: Early Bloomers vs. Late Bloomers

You have witnessed the early bloomers: The ones who seemed to have it figured out while you were still stumbling. They understood the system, played it well, and got rewarded for it. Some of them couldn’t resist rubbing it on your face. I remember a few who did and still do so to me. Respectfully, I say, screw them.

Then there is the other group – the late bloomers: The ones who struggled over the things schools and society cared to measure. The ones who, if determined and lucky enough, often crash into their strengths long after everyone else seemed to have gotten bored with theirs.

Our brains love interpreting things in binary: hot/cold, bright/dull, good/bad, big/small, early/late, etc. Psychologists call this “opponent processes.” 

It’s the same with the idea of bloomers: we can’t help but contrast or measure individuals against each other – based on some metric we value. 

While these labels simplify judgment, in a world that is messy and multi-layered, they also grossly limit what is seen and rewarded, and hence can lead to the neglect, atrophy, and even harm of what isn’t.

Dr. Carol Dweck, a Stanford psychologist, once said: “We have this notion that you have to be a certain way by a certain age, but human development doesn’t work that way.”

What the doctor was highlighting was that our genes, childhood experiences, environment, economics, etcetera, all come together to shape when and how we grow – or you might say, “bloom”. 

Why Growth Doesn’t Follow a Schedule

Back to my story.

You might not know that Dyslexia runs in families the way a crooked nose or a good singing voice does. If one parent has it, there’s about a 40% chance their child will too. Looking at how things turned out for me, calling it destiny wouldn’t be wrong.

But the challenge wasn’t necessarily my brain. It was the disconnect with the environment I grew up in – a society that doesn’t make room for people who think differently. No special education. No resources for kids whose minds don’t fit the standard mould.

So was I really a late bloomer? Or was I simply trying to bloom in an environment unfit for me?

Well, my story isn’t special. For many misfits, the road to blooming in our society often looks more like a challenging, bushy pathway than a straight, tarred road. 

When Obstacles Become The Way

In the struggle to bloom, I eventually found my way to photography and writing.

My brain worked better with visual thinking, so photography came with no impediments. But writing, on the other hand, was something I had to really push myself to get good at because I loved it. But dyslexia doesn’t vanish because you’ve found something you love – every sentence did and still needs effort, every draft needs multiple revisions, and I got good at it only because I obsessively wanted to express myself as well as capture other people’s experiences with words. 

However, I do need to admit that not everyone with a learning difference can power through. Some disabilities really do shut some doors, leaving possibilities unattainable.

That’s why the “your difference is your superpower” narrative, while comforting, can also be harmful. It can gloss over the very real struggle. Sometimes a disability is just hard. 

Either way, the point here is that the timeline for figuring out what works for you, whether it’s discovering your edge, building skills, or just learning to live in a world not designed for you, cannot be standardised.

Some people struggle with the way their brains are weird – be it ADHD, Dyslexia, or trauma — others face financial constraints and systematic oppression. Life doesn’t happen on a level playing field.

Needless to say, comparing yourself to someone else’s pace ignores a simple truth: some of us spend far longer just searching for the right door to walk through.

We’ll Arrive Differently—And That’s the Point

The Japanese have a saying, “Oubaitori”, which expresses the phenomenon that trees all bloom in their own time and way due to different reasons; likewise, one shouldn’t compare oneself to others.

Let’s take Miora Rajaonary for instance. She grew up in Madagascar, where pursuing photography seriously meant you were on your own. There were no fancy art schools or built-in networks.

So she did the “sensible” thing that came to her: studied political science and communications, bounced between fashion and other ventures, and each path was taken with the hope that this might be the thing.

She didn’t touch a camera with serious intent until her late twenties, during a six-month training program in South Africa. Five years later, at 34 or 35—the age our culture insists we should already be established—her career was only beginning with the Getty + ARRAY Grant. Then came her first Prize at Addis Foto Fest, followed by recognition from i-D magazine as an emerging photographer to watch out for.

While the story might seem like the typical inspirational tale of “It’s never too late”, I think it’s asking us something more important: What if those years of seeming detours were the essential substrate from which she was meant to grow her vision?

Another story that makes the point even sharper is that of Temple Grandin, as Robert Greene recounts in his book, Mastery. Temple struggled with what we clinically label “developmental delays”. She didn’t speak until four. She was handicapped in things like friendships, social cues, and all those soft skills we’ve decided are markers of “normal” progress. On every conventional scorecard, she sucked.

But beneath that surface assessment, while other children were learning the intricate tango of playground politics, she was developing a visual-spatial intelligence so refined, so unprecedented, that she could literally perceive the world through animal consciousness. She could understand cattle behaviour with a precision that seemed almost supernatural to those watching from outside her experience.

By her thirties, she had revolutionised livestock farming across America. Not despite her unconventional development, but because of it. 

Stories like these should shake us awake. They prove human development doesn’t care about birthdays, school calendars, family expectations, or societal standards.

So if our development is unscripted and unique, why do we act like it runs on a factory schedule? Why do we want it to happen with a certain level of precision? 

The Problem Is That We Worship Speed, Not Growth

Vincent van Gogh is popular amongst art lovers. But, most people don’t know that he cycled through five careers: art dealer, teacher, bookseller, preacher, and missionary – failing spectacularly at each. It was at 27, he picked up a beginner’s drawing manual—starting from zero. And it wasn’t till he was 36 years old that he painted one of his most famous pieces, The Starry Night.

The same as Fela Kuti, who initially trained as a doctor, then abandoned it for music. Not just any music, but a completely new form he would invent: Afrobeat. A fusion so innovative it would influence global music for generations.

Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, as well, started in medicine and pharmacy because her father requested it. Then she quit. Moved abroad. Switched to communication and political science. Only then did she turn to writing—the thing she’s now known for globally, the work that has expanded what the world understands about Africa.

Despite being exceptions, their story shows us that development isn’t a sprint. It’s not even a marathon. It’s more like gardening. Some things sprout fast. Others take years to root before they break the surface.

It’s no surprise then that Nobel Prize winners are far more likely to have creative activities outside their field—some studies say they’re up to twenty times more involved in the arts than the average scientist. You simply can’t tell what might bloom, or when, and maybe you shouldn’t.

Yet we judge ourselves and others for not blooming “on time,” as if nature (life) ever cared about our concept of time.

A Case For Time and Speed: When They Actually Matter

There are times when the timelines are universal, with little wiggle room. For instance, 

• If you’re an Olympic gymnast, peak performance comes in your teens or early twenties, so biology sets the clock. 
• If you want biological children, fertility has a window that literally shuts off at a point, so again biology sets the cock. 
• If you’re building in a rapidly evolving field like tech, waiting too long might mean your skills or niche become obsolete or competitors take over.
• etcetera

These aren’t arbitrary social pressures. They’re real constraints shaped by physics, biology, or the nature of the work itself.

I am not trying to dismiss all timelines, or give you an excuse to put off the uncomfortable work needed for growth; rather, I am trying to highlight the nuances in timelines, distinguish real from arbitrary, and set expectations right.

Which brings us here:

Why The Rush, Then?

We could say that the obsession to reach certain milestones at specific ages started during the Industrial Revolution. Factories wanted workers who were easy to manage. Schools began grouping children by age to make teaching more organised. Companies created career ladders with fixed timelines for promotions.

But, before that, apprenticeships lasted as long as the apprentice needed to become a master. People married when circumstances allowed. “Career” as we know it didn’t exist. You learned your family’s trade or the work available in your village, and development happened as it happened, which is often all through life.

We’ve inherited these factory-model timelines and convinced ourselves they’re universal human truths. They’re not. They’re organisational tools that escaped their context and became oppressive standards.

Your internal clock (the one that actually governs your growth) doesn’t concern itself with these invented schedules. It can’t be rushed because someone else looks ahead. And it won’t slow down because society says you’re behind.

The pressure to “make it” by a certain age is built on treating human development like an assembly line. But you’re not a product. Your growth doesn’t happen in standardised intervals, and it never will.

When Growth Doesn’t Look Like Success

I’ve spent this whole piece dismantling the tyranny of timelines. But I would be dishonest not to admit this: survival and fulfilment tend to run on very different clocks.

If you’re living in poverty, quick wins (even from menial work or risky choices, like gambling) can mean the difference between your family going hungry or surviving another day. If you’re 25 and supporting ill, ageing parents, you may not have the luxury of “exploring your twenties.” 

The “take your time” mantra often comes from a place of privilege. Most of us get to search for meaning because we still have a roof over our heads and a social safety net that keeps us from complete collapse. And, I must confess, sometimes I feel like my luck would run out soon with the way things are going right now. 

It gets as real as saying, making a living and finding meaning are not the same thing.

Sometimes you have to separate them, taking the work that pays the bills while you slowly build toward the work that fulfils you. But, if you’re fortunate, you might never need to draw the line in-between the two. 

Whatever your lot is, that’s just life.

Vincent Van Gogh, whom we had discussed earlier, died poor and unknown, same with so many other people who did important work, such as Alfred Wegener, who proposed the theory of continental drift but had his findings dismissed until after his death; Franz Kafka, a writer whose literary works exploring anxiety and alienation were only published posthumously against his wishes; and Gregor Mendel, an Augustinian friar whose foundational genetics experiments were overlooked by the scientific community until the 20th century.

I don’t claim to know the one true way to measure a well-lived life. All I do know is: if you keep watering the garden of your potential, with time, something is sure to bloom; though, sadly, sometimes, that thing may not be recognised by others, perhaps not in your lifetime

We can’t escape biological and economical reality, they’re literally matters of life and death. But we can remember this much: your worth is not defined by a timeline.

“If I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is a grass in the beginning.” — Vincent van Gogh

Conclusion: Be Kind To Yourself—There Is No Window To Miss

I spent years thinking I’d missed my window — that the early bloomers had won, and I was just picking up scraps. The failing grades, the perplexed teachers, the feeling of being permanently behind; it all seemed like arriving at a party that had just concluded.

Now, I realise that there was no party to miss. There is only the long, messy, non-linear process of becoming someone I didn’t know I could be, and then someone else after that. And there is no timeline for reaching the fully bloomed self – there is no window to miss.

Your timeline is yours. Not because time bends to your will or because deadlines don’t matter, but because your life is being written in a context too complex for anyone else to grasp, sometimes, even you.

Be kind to yourself in that process. You’re exactly where your particular combination of biology, circumstances, choices, and chance has placed you.

***

This excerpt is from our upcoming book, Random Walk, which explores the complexities of individual life in an indifferent and ever-evolving society. It offers helpful mindset, approaches, and strategies to not just achieve success, but to figure out your unique place and find meaning and fulfilment along the way. To pre-order it, please click here.

***

Thank you for reading to the end. If you found this helpful, please share it with family, friends, or a colleague who might need or appreciate these ideas. 

Here are some blog posts you might find interesting:

1. Forget Others’ Ideas Of Career Success. Here Is How To Create Yours.
2. Power of The Random Walk: Why Your Detours Are More Valuable Than Your Plans
3. The Alignment Conundrum: Why Personal Growth Can Feel Like a Lonely Purgatory.
4. Reframing Your Flaws: How Embracing Your Difference Can Make You Extraordinary
5. [What If] You Unconsciously Hate Success?