To the deep thinkers,
Welcome to the Deep Thinkers Newsletter: A collection of essays dedicated to going beyond the surface.
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When I was younger, the two words I would use to describe myself were unassuming and withdrawn.
I didn’t stand out in school. No honors. No scholarships. Just a shy kid who spent more time daydreaming than living in reality—someone who felt like he was lagging behind everyone else.
In a world obsessed with early achievement, I internalized that being behind meant being broken. That if you didn’t shine early, you probably never would. I saw how early achievers were honored and adored, meanwhile, late bloomers toiled away in the shadows.
We’re taught to revere The Path, a socially accepted roadmap for excellence. Get good grades. Go to college. Land a good job. Get married. Buy a house. At some point, retire, and then just kind of…exist until it’s your time to go.
In the modern world, this is the optimal path to success. Or so we’re led to believe. The truth is, there is no single path to success. There are actually so, so many different paths one can take to create a fulfilling life. And the belief that there is—that one-size-fits-all formula—has quietly suffocated a generation of late bloomers.
The Myth of “Too Late”
A late bloomer is someone who fulfills their potential later than expected. But expected by whom?
You see, the expectations are the real problem. We go through childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, measuring our development against arbitrary timelines, the kind that are rooted in external pressure rather than internal truth. Rooted in appeasement rather than self-understanding.
The thing is—for so many people—development is nonlinear and nuanced. The conventional path assumes we all develop at the same pace. But real life is full of detours, pit stops, grief, unexpected turns, and quiet years that matter more than we think, and more than we can appreciate in the moment.
Not everyone blooms early. Not everyone blooms in the same soil, in the same environment. Some of us have to dig through stones for so long before we can feel the warmth of pride over the life we are living.
The Weight of Comparison
Don’t be satisfied with stories, how things have gone with others. Unfold your own myth.
— Rumi
While comparison is an ancient part of being human—a survival instinct, perhaps—it now feels more like a slow suffocation, blurring our focus and distorting our unique path forward.
In a hyper-connected world, we’re accosted with highlight reels. The best of the best parade across our screens. The business “savants.” The celebrity of the month. Those who reside within the internet’s inner circle—top influencers, streamers, digital creators.
We don’t just compare ourselves to them; we quietly conclude that we’ve failed. Not because of who they are, but because of how seamlessly their lives seem to align with the image we’ve been fed of success, creativity, and purpose.
But it doesn’t end with the illusions we see online. Those in our own lives, our peers, have just as much of an impact on the weight of comparison we carry. Young people follow The Path because that’s what everyone around them is doing. And when it doesn’t work—when they drop out, burn out, or simply don’t fit in—they blame themselves.
But the truth is that it was never their path, to begin with.
Society glorifies early brilliance and quietly punishes those who bloom at their own pace. Family traditions and worldviews rarely leave space for a child to nurture any kind of curiosity that leads them down unconventional avenues. Even well-meaning friends can make us feel like we’re running behind in a race we never signed up for.
So we pretend.
We play along.
For far too long.
Until one day, we realize that this life we’re living isn’t ours, and something has to change.
The Phoenix System
If you’re a late bloomer, you’ll likely have to fail, quit, and reinvent yourself more than once throughout your life. You’ll wear many identities. That’s not something to be ashamed of. It’s simply the work of being who you are.
You’ll die many small deaths. You’ll burn up one version of you, and from those ashes, you’ll rise again.
That’s why I call the following framework The Phoenix System—a model adapted from Late Bloomers by Rich Karlgaard. This framework is how you illuminate all the other paths hidden in that dark fog.
This is the Phoenix System.
1. Quit
Let go of paths that no longer serve you. Quitting isn't always failure; it’s sometimes self-respect. You’re not obligated to stick with something just because you started it. Rather than feel ashamed, understand that quitting can be a tool for self-discovery and exploration. So try new things. Let them go when it’s time. Learn the lesson. And then start the next thing.
2. Turn Self-Doubt into Self-Efficacy
Self-doubt is natural. What matters is what you do with it. Self-efficacy means developing strategies, taking action, and proving to yourself that you’re capable, one small win at a time. Confidence doesn’t come before action; it follows it. So make good on your potential through iteration and consistency.
3. Reframe Your Inner Narrative
Pay attention to the stories you tell yourself. You are not behind. You are not broken. You are always in the process of becoming. We all need narratives that encourage and empower us. Ones that make us fall in love with our lives and the process of continued growth. Tell yourself a better story. One rooted in curiosity and self-compassion, not shame. Rewriting your narrative isn’t delusion, it’s power.
4. Practice Self-Compassion
Much of traditional self-help and therapy revolves around improving self-esteem. I’d argue that you should practice self-compassion rather than worrying about your self-esteem. Maybe you don’t need more hustle. Maybe you need more grace. Through self-compassion, you can see your missteps clearly without weaponizing them against yourself. Do as Brene Brown once wrote and “Talk to yourself like you would someone you love.”
5. Reinvention as “Re-Potting”
If a plant can’t thrive in its environment, you move the pot. Sometimes, the same goes for us. Change your setting—your job, your social circle, your habits, your city—if they don’t reflect who you are or who you’re becoming. Ask yourself: What environment allows me to grow the most authentically? Then move toward it.
The Long Road
The world teaches us that success has an expiration date. That if we don’t make it by 30, we’ve failed. But what if blooming late simply means blooming fully? What if the long road led to deeper roots? We must disassemble the myth that the only worthwhile stories are of those who slingshot their way to the mountaintop.
Slow stories have their own magic. They’re rich, reflective, and resilient. You are not a failure. You are a slow story that is still unfolding.
Success means having the courage, the determination, and the will to become the person you believe you were meant to be.
If we want a more compassionate, more creative world, we need more people willing to accept their journey along the long road. Those who ventured off The Path and still find success at some point. People who quit things, changed course, and kept growing through it all.
You are not too late. You are not out of time. You are simply living, remaining in motion, until it’s time to leave this place. In other words, you are a human being.
Apply the Phoenix System. Reject the timeline that doesn’t serve you. And above all, give yourself grace. Because even the late bloomers fill the world with color.
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✍🏾 In Case You Missed It:
Searching for Something That Doesn’t Have a Name
Some of us are searching for something we’ve never been able to name. It’s not a job, not a person, not a goal. It’s a feeling. A truth we’ve felt in our bones since we were young.
In this essay, I reflect on the weight of that longing, the pull of the existential, and how we can learn to walk forward, even when there’s no clear path.
The Stories You Tell Yourself Are Keeping You Small
I used to think I needed the perfect plan, the right timing, or the best gear before I could call myself a writer. That belief kept me stuck. Quiet. Small.
Detachment saved me. Not detachment from my dreams, but detachment from the idea that I had to earn the right to begin.
If you keep promising yourself that "someday" you'll take that risk, this essay is for you.
Much love,
—Jon ♾️
Great post! As a lifelong learner, I’ve quietly reinvented myself several times. At the age of 65, I completed a Ph.D. in humanistic psychology. For the past decade, I’ve been captivated by photography, driven by a personal curiosity, creative energy, and an intention to explore the depths of my own mind.
Wonderful in every way, saving this one Jon!