Happy Monday, friends.
I don’t know about you, but for a long time, I always thought of who I wanted to be.
It started as a young girl when I would journal about “who” I would be at 20 or 25- what would I look like, who would I be? Would I have grown out of this pudgy stage by then?
At 17, I envisioned myself graduating college with an English degree and a book deal on the horizon.
At 22, I imagined myself touring with bands as a photographer and writer- documenting the moments with fury and gumption.
And then, at some point, I stopped imagining myself. From heartbreak to online trolling, my self-esteem was pummeled and it became easier - safer - to dim myself. I went through my twenties on auto-pilot, only to wake up at 30 and say to myself “What the fuck am I doing?”
At 33, I would consider myself an active member of the Late Bloomer’s Club. For most of my life, I’ve been a later bloom. From love to sex, to understanding makeup or my body- it’s been awkward. On the outside, it might appear that I have it all together: we late bloomers are experts at facades.
It is only this year that I feel I’m living in my purpose, and that I found myself, again. I’m imagining what life will look like this time next year, or at 35- not quite so far in the future as 7-year-old Leanne once did, but with an optimism I’ve missed.
As a woman, I have moments where I worry that I have to choose between two directions: break convention or live by the rules. When you’re getting married, the traditional conversations begin to surface, especially around children- all of which gives me hives.
I just found my identity, and there is pressure to already change that.
But maybe that’s the secret of being part of the late bloomers club: it doesn’t matter how life changes when you get to a certain point- as a late bloomer, you’ll never give up the pieces of yourself you so vehemently tried to find. You’ll only become more resolute in who you are, and how you carry yourself through life.
Late bloomers have said goodbye to lives they’ve dreamed of, and experienced the underbelly of life we often glaze over. Late bloomers choose not to glaze over the uncomfortable because glazing is the first step to living on auto-pilot.
Late Bloomers live life differently: they discover their passion with such reverent love that they have no choice but to enjoy every second of this newfound happiness. They can’t risk, even for a second, missing this feeling again.
Late bloomers refuse to believe they have to be resigned to a life of convention: even when convention is all around them. Why can’t they have it all, in just different boxes than imagined?
The truth is, I’d rather be a late bloomer than never have bloomed at all.
I’d rather admit that I don’t necessarily have it all together and use my lessons from failure, insecurity, and doubt as a tool in my toolbelt to propel me forward, rather than to stand still.
If you’re in the late bloomers club, I hope you’re embracing it, too.
Journal Prompt of the Week
On Instagram, I shared a poem and illustration I worked on over the weekend, encompassing the woman I am. In its’ spirit, I want you to think of who you are, not who you want to be.
I am: and, insert your dreams, your traits, your best qualities here.
Instead of our traditional path of me going first, here’s the poem:
As always, I’m grateful you’re here. We’ll see you Thursday for a little bit of Salt.