Thinking Slow — Time Helps

I’m not always the best at jumping into conversations where I don’t have much context, or any real authority. At first, it was just me trying not to sound stupid. But over time, it became something more deliberate. A choice. My go-to approach.

And I’ll be honest, it used to feel awkward, sitting in a room while people go back and forth, trading words, throwing opinions, brainstorming on the fly. Me? I’m just there, nodding, eyes following the flow, but not saying much. It feels weird sometimes. But I’ve come to accept it.

I’m a slow thinker.

Ironically, my surname—Irorere—means “I’m thinking about it.” You really can’t make that up.

We slow thinkers don’t often get much space in a world that rewards speed. A world where everyone’s expected to have a hot take, a fast response, an answer at their fingertips. But that’s not how real understanding works. At least not for all of us.

Daniel Kahneman, in Thinking, Fast and Slow, makes a distinction between two systems of thought:

System 1, the fast, intuitive, instinctive mind

System 2, the slower, deliberate, more effortful mind

I find myself living more in System 2.

And in this world that idolizes speed and quick wit, being a slow thinker can feel like being out of place. But I’ve come to believe it’s not a weakness, it’s a strength. Especially when the stakes are high.

Because when it comes to meaningful conversations or important decisions, career, life, relationships, what you say matters. What you don’t say matters too. And blurting something out just to stay in the loop can cost more than silence ever will.

It’s not just in my career, it’s everywhere. Even with loved ones. I often just listen. Not because I don’t care, but because I’m trying to understand. I need space to process, to connect the dots. And when similar situations come up again, I find myself responding faster, not because I’ve suddenly become a “fast thinker,” but because I’ve sat with it before. I’ve thought it through.

This is how experience works, it teaches you patterns. It teaches you to see faster not because you rush, but because you’ve seen enough to recognize the signs.

But still, life has a way of throwing something new at you. Something that doesn’t fit into your previous frameworks. Something you can’t think through in five seconds. And in those moments, I’ve learned to just say: “I don’t know. But I’ll get back to you.”

There’s power in that sentence.

There’s humility. There’s thoughtfulness. There’s space to be human.

Especially in work, where decisions are often made on the fly, and stakeholders expect quick answers. I’ve learned that the best way to contribute isn’t to react quickly, it’s to ask better questions. Compassionate questions. Not to interrogate, but to understand.

Because when you ask the right questions, you often help people see their own blindspots. And more often than not, the original problem shifts. What they thought they wanted… changes.

Earlier in my career, I didn’t know this. I’d take the brief, get to work, ship something after days of effort, only to be told the problem had changed. The direction had shifted. The goalposts had moved. That was painful. But it taught me something:

Slow thinking creates clarity.

These days, I give myself more room to pause. To let problems fester, not in a negative way, but to allow time for depth. Because when I take that extra step and ask why, when I explore the context, not just the task, I usually find better ways forward. Sometimes simpler ways. Smarter ways.

And here’s what I’ve come to accept: Being a slow thinker in a fast world doesn’t mean being behind. It means being grounded. Being deliberate. Being safe in your process.

I’m not saying everyone should be slow. But if you are, if you take time to process, to reflect, don’t rush to change that. Don’t let the world convince you that slowness is a flaw.

I think that’s part of why I write more than I speak. Writing gives me the pause I need. It gives me space to think clearly, to feel what I’m trying to say, and say it how I mean it.

But I’m not trying to stay boxed in by being “just” a slow thinker either. I want to learn when to shift gears, when to think fast and when to slow down. To move with wisdom, not reaction.

So maybe the real goal isn’t to always be fast or slow.

Maybe the goal is to know the difference, and choose well.

And if that means letting the problem sit with me a little longer… so be it.