During my “Funemployment” phase – which I promise I won’t ever bring up again – I was deep in the throes of a quarter-life crisis (like a good Millennial).
Between wondering, “What next?” and questioning my purpose in life, I had a great “aha!” moment.
I realized that part of “adulting” is knowing that I don’t know everything. I realized that settling into a specific career, and doing it well, didn’t automatically make it what I should devote the rest of my life to. Something that I now see as obvious because I’d been too restless, always wanting something more fulfilling.
Admitting that I’m happier away from the blinking cursor on the screen was the scariest part, though. This meant more change.
So I prayed. And I monologued. And I listened to my cousins’ horror stories about teachers who told them they wouldn’t amount to much…until the tug in my heart become more like a constant yanking.
Teaching. Cue the flashing neon lights.
And it only took me 24 years to figure it out.
I say “only” un-ironically. Because 24 is young. But it’s easy to feel inferior to the teenage success stories we read about in Forbes…or closer to home, our peers who seem to have it all already.
I just had a late night conversation about this with friends. We looked back on our most defining moments. Not surprisingly, many of them came after high school, after college, last year. Yet we are more fully ourselves because of them.
So to all my fellow late bloomers…all the waiting, the failures, and the new beginnings serve a purpose. Nothing’s a waste as long as we keep going.