What is it about birthdays and being an adult? Why do they stop being the most magical occasions and turn into days we’d rather ignore, even skip altogether if we could? What is it about putting a number to growing older that frightens adults more than anything? In my mind, it all comes down to the expectations that come with certain ages. At 15 we choose what subjects we’re going to continue with for the rest of our schooling careers because, of course, by now we should have settled on a suitable career to pursue for the rest of our lives. By 18 we’re expected to have had a couple of experimental (or not) kisses, a dozen or so crushes and to have been on at least one or two dates. At 19 we’re expected to start on what should be the tertiary road to our future success in the wondrous world of work. Depending on what tertiary road you take (shame, health sciences students), at around 22, you’re expected to burst into said world, knowing all along that you’d end up at this exact point at this exact time in this perfectly respectable job. Engaged at 23. Married at 25. Secure with a house at 26. First baby at 27. Second baby at 30. On and on until we retire and can look proudly back on our lives, milestones having been met exactly when they were supposed to. If only it were that simple.
I’ve been working towards getting a degree ever since I finished matric. Being in my third year at UCT, and with a December graduation on the horizon, I can say with immense relief that this goal is within my grasp (that is, praying that the philosophy gods take pity on my weary soul). I think it’s important to note, however, that I matriculated in 2012. This is my seventh year out of school, my fifth in a university environment, my first year spent in a relationship (hi Danny!) and the next birthday I celebrate will mark a quarter of a century alive. I guess you could call me a late bloomer, right? The fact of the matter is that not everyone knows the direction they should be heading in from the get go. Perhaps it’s because you weren’t given enough guidance or no guidance at all. In my case, I was given the wrong guidance entirely.
Coming from a family made up of predominantly professional people (doctors, lawyers and the like), I always found myself weighted down by the pressure of having to become the same. I think my family knew this. So, as to alleviate some of this pressure and allow me to concentrate 100% on my studies and nothing else (romantic/social life included), the elders decided that I would be a paediatrician. Thanks guys, you solved all of my problems (she lied). To summarize, without going into intricate detail about the millions of problems that this decision created for me, I spent majority of my teenage years so focussed on reaching an unachievable goal that I failed to focus on the most important thing: myself! When it came for me to choose my subjects in Grade 10 I knew without a shadow of a doubt that I would never see the inside of a hospital (unless I was the patient, because life is unpredictable and your girl is clumsy). But, I had no alternative, because I knew nothing else. I didn’t know myself and it took me a very long time to figure me out.
However, now that I have figured myself out, I find that I’m moving, slowly, in a direction I’m happy to be moving in (at long last!). Though, sometimes I find my mind drifting towards the reality of my looming 25th birthday and, honestly, I often don’t feel great about it. I think on all the friends I have who are already working, already able to support themselves, have already been in a relationship for years, have already accomplished so much more than me, because they knew what they wanted to do with their lives when they were teenagers and I’m faced with my own inadequacy. But, this inadequacy is unfairly wrought by my own mind responding to the pressures of life, the universe and everything in it.
Societal praise is often directed towards child prodigies and young entrepreneurs, because society has come to exalt progress to the detriment of patience. That isn’t to say that early achievements are not to be valued. It’s just saying that they are not the only achievements to be worthy of such high praise. Any kind of achievement, be it early, late or right on time, is worthy of exaltation, because it is an achievement regardless. Being a late bloomer just means that you took longer than others to reach your final form, be it due to issues with guidance, financial problems or simply because your path was just a tad longer than everyone else’s. No one’s clock is the same just as no one’s path is, though we all have one shared destination: ultimate happiness. This is something that needs to be stressed more and more, so that the millions of late bloomers around the world don’t continue believing that they’re failures. It’s those kinds of thoughts that can keep a person from blooming at all.