how can you be late in life when its your life?

I'm 25 years old, and I just started taking driving lessons. I live in a city built entirely around cars, and not having one requires explanation as to why I posses neither. I'm asked frequently: "You're 25 with no license?" It's hard not to turn it into a pitiful conclusion of my own inadequacy, whirling thoughts of I'm late! I'm late! I'm late! Feeling behind has always been the most isolating experience for me. It's not the thought I hate but the harrowing conviction that I somehow lost a memo that the rest of the world got.1 Naturally, I felt panicky when I got asked about my license, and during a journal entry, I asked myself: Late to what? At 18, I left my parents' house for a foreign country with no money and a sheltered childhood behind me instead of a safety net. I fought for a full scholarship then, five years later, for a work visa to escape my war-torn country. I built a career out of nothing. The driving lessons are just the newest thing on a very long list of things I…