Career Paths Are Not Linear: Finding Your Purpose When You’re “Behind Schedule”

TL;DR: If you’re feeling lost about your career trajectory, you’re in good company. From Prophet Muhammad to Mel Robbins, history shows us that meaningful careers often don’t reveal themselves until our 40s, 50s, or beyond.

The Myth of the Straight Line

Forbes 30 Under 30. Fortune 40 Under 40. These lists celebrate prodigies who seemingly emerged from high school with a five-year plan and executed it flawlessly. They reinforce a dangerous myth: that you’re supposed to know exactly what your career path is from day one.

The reality for many of us is far more complicated. I’m in my 50s, and I only recently feel like I’ve found my career purpose. For years, I thought something was wrong with me. Then I realized: it’s not just me.

When “Real” Careers Begin

Recently, I was watching a Mel Robbins video (I love her “Let Them” theory, by the way). In this particular interview (watch from 4:00–6:30), she made a point that stopped me cold: she feels like everything in her career has been leading up to what she’s doing now. She’s 56.

But here’s what really struck me. She said she feels like “an instrument for consciousness, for compassion.” She went on: “I believe that this is divinely ordered… if you’re standing in this moment you can look backwards — everything that has happened to you makes sense and you can see the path and the turns and the hardships and the lessons and the things you regret and the things that you learn from and everything has led you to this moment.”

The Prophet’s Winding Path

This feeling led me to reflect on the faith leader I follow, Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him). His childhood exposed him to repeated loss and a rotating cast of caregivers: first his mother, then Halimah his nanny, then his grandfather, and finally his uncle. He started as a shepherd. Then became a traveling businessman.

Coming into his mid-to-late 30s, he had the same questions we often have: Where is this going? What’s my purpose in all of this? He would often retreat to a cave, seeking answers to these very questions.

Only in his 40th year was his true calling revealed: he would become the recipient of direct divine revelation. His “real” career (the one that would change the course of history) didn’t begin until 40.

And what followed? The next 23 years became one of the most successful periods of any person in history. He laid the foundation for a civilization that lasted at least seven centuries, and today, one out of every four people in the world still follows his teachings.

But here’s what they don’t tell you in the success stories: finding your purpose at 40 didn’t mean the path became smooth. Ten years into his prophetic mission, he lost what we’d call his “air cover” in corporate terms (that senior protector who shields you from organizational politics). His uncle Abu Talib, who had protected him from tribal politics, passed away. Seeking new protection, he traveled to the nearby town of Ta’if, only to face painful rejection. They literally chased him out, leaving him bleeding in a small garden on the outskirts of town.

Sitting there, feet bleeding, he pleaded for divine clarity on what to do next. That clarity wouldn’t fully materialize for three more years, when he finally established a new base in Medina. Three years of uncertainty after already knowing his purpose. Sound familiar to anyone who’s navigated corporate restructuring or tried to pivot after losing a key sponsor?

My Own Zigzag Journey

My path has been anything but straight. For over a decade after my undergraduate degree, I was convinced I’d become an academic, investing nearly 12 years in that vision before pivoting to the private sector. During COVID, I spent six months working at a non-profit that didn’t succeed. But I felt I learned practical application skills and built relationships that still serve me to this day. Recently, I left a role I thought was perfect when it didn’t pan out the way I’d hoped. Was it a failure? A detour? I’m starting to think it was neither — just another bend in a path I can’t yet see in full. I feel like even though it didn’t work out, it was part of my preparation.

Finding My Instrument Moment

And now, finally, I have a possible inkling of what it may have been leading to (though the true answer will only reveal itself in time). When I did my PhD in AI, AI wasn’t going to be this big thing that would change the world. AI was “niche” (philosophically interesting, people told me, but a long way from having practical applications). They were right, too. For 15 years after I finished my PhD, AI remained largely academic, a curiosity more than a revolution.

Then came the paradigm shift. AI found its groove. And suddenly, as I help my community navigate the complexities of this technology, bridging my technical expertise with their needs and translating between worlds, I feel my professional and personal paths converging. This could be the moment everything has been building toward.

Like Mel Robbins, I finally feel like “an instrument of the moment.” All those years in academia taught me how to think critically and communicate complex ideas. The corporate experience showed me how technology actually gets built and deployed. That “perfect” role that wasn’t? It freed me to be here, now, when my community needs someone who understands both their values and the technology reshaping our world.

This is what purpose feels like: not a job title or a salary benchmark, but the intersection of what you’re good at, what the world needs, and what your soul has been preparing for all along.

The Divine GPS

Here’s what I’ve come to understand: career paths are not linear, and perhaps they’re not meant to be. There’s a divine force preparing a path for us in ways we don’t always see at the time. The purpose only becomes clearer when we look back.

In my tradition, we have a practice for moments like this. It’s called istikhara, which means “seeking the best path.” When facing a difficult choice, you turn to God and acknowledge: “I can’t see the full picture from here, but You can. Guide me.” What makes this powerful is how it reframes everything that follows. Whatever happens next isn’t a mistake or a wrong turn. It’s guidance. Even the outcomes you don’t understand are part of the path.

Those “detours” and “false starts”? They’re not bugs in the system. They’re features. Each role, each pivot, each apparent dead end is giving you tools you didn’t know you’d need, teaching you resilience and humility, and showing you what you don’t want, so you can recognize what you do.

The shepherd boy needed those quiet hours with the flock. The businessman needed those travels. Mel Robbins needed her law degree, her bankruptcy, her CNN appearances. I needed academia and corporate life and that “perfect” role that wasn’t.

Let Them Have Their Lists

So let Forbes have their 30 Under 30. Let them celebrate the prodigies and the straight-line success stories. Those are beautiful in their own way.

But for the rest of us: the late bloomers, the pivoters, the still-searching, remember this: some of history’s most impactful careers didn’t truly begin until 40, 50, or beyond.

Your zigzag path isn’t a problem to be solved. It’s a story being written. And the best chapters might still be ahead.