Time’s up: When later feels too late

I was ready to conquer the world after I graduated college.

Armed with the grit and stubborn resilience that fueled me as a student, I was certain of the path that I would take. By 25 years old, I will already have a steady career, a sizable chunk of savings in my account, a cozy apartment, a master’s degree, and will have already traveled to many parts of the country and the world. Life was about to get better.

Here I sit, a 26-year-old girl, with a different reality. I have been stuck with an unfinished master’s thesis for a year now, I only landed a permanent position two years ago, I still live in the same dull apartment I moved into at 21, and traveling is still a rare opportunity because my bank account is not set up for the jetsetter lifestyle. And while this is not the worst-case scenario for how things could have turned out, I could not help but feel anxious.

It could be a symptom of a culture fascinated with early success, where “under-30” lists are always viral, prodigies are glorified, young entrepreneurs are idolized, and children achieving milestones ahead of their peers are put on a pedestal. Mixing that with how social media amplifies youthful brilliance, I developed a mindset that there is no better time to make my dreams come true except during my brief youth. A question echoed in my mind, am I already too late?

I see people my age, some I know, some strangers, some are past acquaintances, and they all are sailing much further ahead. Doctorates pursued; families begun; houses built; cars bought; fortunes amassed; flourishing business, careers, and destinations reached—they are already the person I am still striving to become.

Facing the world outside the four corners of my college campus gave me a quick reality check—I simply do not have the capacity for early success. Coming from a lower-middle-class background, destiny simply had a different blueprint than what I had in mind. It turns out, the dream job is not always the first job we get, and in my case, I only found it at 24.

In this economy, saving is not that easy, especially if you live in the metro. And lastly, juggling a career in the development sector and graduate school takes a certain amount of intellect and specific skills to go well, which I do not have. I spent half of my 20s trying to have it all figured out, and it was not until recently that I finally dared to accept that most of my “under-30” goals will have to wait longer.

I find it a cruel irony that as the world applauds those who achieve young, it subtly overlooks those who “make it” at a later age: the seasoned artist, those who find their stride at 50, or the entrepreneur who finally builds a thriving business after decades of trial and error. Sure, we give them a polite nod of acknowledgement and even cite them as proof that “it is not too late,” but why do we consider them late at all?

It is as if, as time passes by, our potential chips away, because every moment not spent achieving something feels like a wasted opportunity. We promote the grind or the hustle culture among young professionals because time is a finite resource, and in turn, we forget to simply be. I always have this fear that I must set other yearnings aside and focus on my “real” goals because if I do not become successful now, it will not matter. If my dreams finally come true after 30, they will simply be “expected.”

When I was diagnosed with polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) last year, and told by my doctor that I am putting myself under a lot of stress, I had a wake-up call. I realized that all this time, I have been foolish. My fear of not being a brilliant young person might cost me the chance of thriving and living well when I get older. In the process of reevaluating my priorities, I challenged myself to redefine my notion of success and the timeline that qualifies it.

Life is not a race against time, but a journey of discovery. Resilience is forged through experience, wisdom comes with age, and quiet determination is why there are people still passionate beyond retirement.

Added years are a gift. I should not have held myself to a standard I set at a time when I knew so little. While ambition is not inherently wrong, it skewed my perception of what it means to live well. I should have taken the time to look inward and nurture the child that I was still within.

Beyond the milestones I am yet to achieve, I see now that my greatest victory in my 20s is not a second diploma, an impressive job title and net worth, or an Instagram-worthy apartment and a jetsetter’s feed. It is something more profound: a soul brimming with gratitude. It is time to pay attention to other numbers, other than the ones this piece has brought up repeatedly. I am going to start counting all the positive things that have happened in my life instead of years.

My story still has the potential to be remarkable at any age.

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Hanna Cortes, 26, is a graduate student at the University of the Philippines Asian Center and is a civil servant in a national government agency.