Without a doubt, I’m a late bloomer. I had my first and only child at 40, and though I was in a relationship, I didn’t marry until I was 66, by which time my daughter was well on her way to a promising career. My childhood and teenage years were overshadowed by a discontented mother and a demanding father—a couple far removed from any semblance of marital bliss.
For me, it was essential to first take care of myself: to get a solid education, secure good jobs, and have my own home before bringing a child into this world. Marriage, I believed, should come only after I was financially secure, with a career and long-term economic stability firmly in place. Before I married my husband in 2017, I had been with a former partner, a poet and university professor 16 years my senior. While I trusted him, as I grew older, I realized that our age difference limited many aspects of our relationship. It became clear that it was time to take responsibility for myself.
Early Bloomers vs. Late Bloomers in Life
In The Atlantic magazine, David Brooks discusses how society is structured to promote early bloomers. By age 18, the school system has sorted people through grades and SAT scores. Some soar to prestigious academic heights while others are left behind. Many of our most celebrated figures—Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, Elon Musk, Taylor Swift, and Michael Jordan—achieved greatness early. Magazines often highlight youthful stars with lists like “30 Under 30,” glamorizing those who rise quickly. Age discrimination is a reality, as evident in the current U.S. presidential race.
Then, there are people like me, who do not bloom early. It took many years for me to overcome a challenging childhood and find my way in the adult world. Overemphasizing the achievements of early bloomers risks overlooking those who bloom later in life, often after hard-fought battles with early setbacks or difficulties.
In a clever rebuttal to the cult of early bloomers, Brooks notes: “Young people are just smarter,” Mark Zuckerberg once said, in possibly the dumbest statement in American history. ‘There are no second acts in American lives,’ F. Scott Fitzgerald once observed, in what might be the next dumbest.”
What It Means to Be a Late Bloomer
There are better ways to understand why some bloom later than others. In his book Late Bloomers, Rich Karlgaard asks two important questions: Why didn’t late bloomers bloom earlier? And what qualities do late bloomers possess or develop that allow them to bloom later? Through his research, Karlgaard found that late bloomers are “qualitatively different, possessing a different set of abilities that are mostly invisible to or discouraged by our current education system.”
Karlgaard explains that late bloomers often forge their own paths. They frequently “fulfill their potential in novel and unexpected ways,” often surprising even those closest to them. I can relate. When I left home to attend university, I chose a path entirely different from the one my parents had envisioned. They had hoped I would live at home while attending university, and my mother wasn’t convinced I should go to university at all, thinking a secretarial job would suit me better. As a result, my parents chose not to support me financially during my first year of studies. The summer before leaving my hometown of Windsor, Ontario, I worked three jobs: cashier at a grocery store, secretary in an auto parts factory, and night receptionist at the YMCA. With a student loan and the money I saved, I made it to Carleton University in Ottawa.
Success Story as a Late Bloomer
For decades, my journey was one of trial and error. It wasn’t until I was 62 that I published my first novel, The Cook’s Temptation, and not until 68 that I published my second, Last Night of the World. I may or may not write another novel, but I’ve recently found great joy and a sense of accomplishment in writing essays for The Literary Review of Canada. One of my essays, “All the Kremlin’s Men,” was chosen for Best Canadian Essays in 2021.
In the past year, I’ve dedicated most of my time to editing a collection of eight essays for a book entitled A National Awakening: Robin Mathews and the Struggle for Canadian Identity. Mathews, who was my professor and thesis advisor, passed away last year at the age of 91. His mission was to encourage governments, schools, universities, and arts organizations to include a full range of Canadian content in their offerings. I deeply admire the talented contributors to this book and found that working as their editor was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.
It’s Your Time to Bloom
So, don’t lose hope. If you’re over 40, 50, or 60 and haven’t yet found your niche, there’s still time to discover your specialty, whether in the arts, politics, business, or helping others. Finding your own path is exhilarating.
Like my beautifully aging rose bushes in the garden, it’s never too late to bloom.
By Joyce Wayne
(used with permission)
