I think if I had a choice, I might have considered pressing the ‘please make me a Non-Late Bloomer’ button before descending down the baby slide. I say ‘might have’ because obviously, being a non-late bloomer would have prevented a lot of wasted time waffling around wondering who and what I was most of my teens, twenties and thirties. But then again, taking after my Mom in every way (who is also a ‘late bloomer’ and tremendously successful), I think being a late bloomer is pretty okay, too. Yes I waffled about. Yes I wasted time I could have committed to my passion. But - I probably wouldn’t be the happily crazed, uber-focused professional artist I am today had I not bloomed late.
Growing up, I definitely knew I was a late bloomer. After all, I had been told I was one for as long as I can remember…which I always thought was a really nice way of saying “boiling water may be the crowning achievement of you life.” Though it was nice to be told and reassured that I would bloom late, it left me wondering if I would ever really truly discover my path.
Hoorah for the late bloomers!
At 40, I discovered my passion. Art and creating art! I finally bloomed! Actually, art was a seed planted in my childhood, taking its sweet time to root, grow, and eventually bud. Even though I sorta knew way back in my brain that I was really a visual artist, the late bloomer had to first cull through all the other stuff I “wanted” to be, but was not destined for like: An actor. A model. A marriage counselor. A pastor. A PhD. All wonderful aspirations, but not my destiny. But visual artist? That is the root of who I am, the bane of my existence today. It’s how I express myself, and connect with humanity. It is my true calling, and my true passion which took its sweet time simmering for forty long years. I am creating every day now, and truly have never been happier in my life.
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