i'm still me.

Last week, I made my first mistake at my new job, and I very quickly learned that I'm still me.  Despite the laid back environment, my wonderful and incredibly nice boss, my phenomenal team of co-workers, and my recent renunciation of coffee... I'm still me.  Still the anxiety-ridden employee who feels intense shame and guilt at the discovery of even the tiniest mistake.

I once drafted a letter to the Delaware Secretary of State informing them that a check was enclosed for a state filing, only to seal the letter and send it off without the actual check.  Upon the realization that I had forgotten to include the check (about 15 minutes after the mailman had come to collect the mail), I immediately began to freak out.  FREAK. OUT.  My supervising partner is going to yell at me.  The client is going to be so mad.  What am I going to do?  Who do I need to tell?  I can't believe I did this.  STUPID.  STUPID.  STUPID.  While she didn't yell, she certainly gave me the "I'm very disappointed in you.  You need to do better than this.  Now what did you learn?" speech, and I didn't sleep for a week.  Every day thereafter, I rushed into the office, desperate for a message from the Delaware Secretary of State letting me know they had received my 17 emails and 32 voice messages about "the incident" and that they were willing to work with me to right the situation.

In retrospect... it certainly wasn't the HUGE deal I (or almost more importantly, my supervising partner) made it out to be, and all I would have needed to hear was "hey...relax."  I'm neurotic.  I'm pretty sure I would have been this way regardless of the law; however, I am confident that law fueled my neuroses like gasoline to a flame and almost made me downright crazy. 

I am slowly beginning to feel like myself as I get deeper into my new career... and while I'm still me, I am realizing how much I liked my old self... before the law got into me.

it's the law.

I know my recent posts have been “heavy” and “deep.”  I think those were the actual words my parents used to describe them… basically asking between the lines if I was ok.  So just to clear up any confusion – yes, I am SO ok.  Better than ok.  Awesome actually… and really really happy on a level I have a hard time explaining.  Maybe that’s why I’ve been so deep and long-winded lately.  I’m not sure I have the words to describe my current emotional bliss.   And while I do think I deserve this kind of happiness and worked my butt of to get here, I have definitely been pinching myself regularly…

In the last two weeks, I’ve been inundated by random emails or blog comments from disgruntled, fed up and exhausted lawyers who have hit rock bottom and are looking to the Internet for guidance.  It’s incredible actually, and I’m proud to be a part of a safe haven for those seeking refuge from the billable hour.

I am traveling right now, coming off an incredibly successful whirlwind trip to Salt Lake City, Utah.  SLC is a GORGEOUS city, with in-your-face mountains, a park around every corner and some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet.  I could live there but for the lack of wine stores.  I know I should have known this.  I’ve heard there are no liquor stores in the land of Zion.   It’s the law.  That Utah was like Fight Club: “The first rule about Utah is we don’t talk about liquor stores.”  But I didn’t know exactly how bad it was until I tried to “swing by a wine store” to pick up a celebratory bottle to take to dinner with friends.  Two hours of driving and 20 minutes of Googling later, I finally found a liquor store, The Utah State Liquor Store.  And the place was packed.  Not “Costco on a Saturday” packed, but “the apocalypse is coming” packed.  And it was just a regular Tuesday.  There was not a parking spot to be had, but I had driven around for 2 hours and wasn’t about to turn back now.  Turns out, it was worth the wait.  Apparently when the state is regulating the sale of liquor, there’s very little price gouging.  I was shocked to discover Utah had really good wine for very competitive prices!  Anyway, I digress.  It wasn’t my intent to discuss access to wine in Utah, but it kind of goes hand-in-hand with the topic I had planned to write about: Comradery.  Especially among women.  Especially women lawyers.

A recent email I received from a female entertainment lawyer in LA mentioned how many women could benefit from hearing the stories of other women getting out of law.  I’ve never considered myself a feminist in the traditional sense, but I have definitely felt that whatever men can do, women can do just as well.  Law was a different animal, however.  There is still a great deal of sexism in the practice of law, and you would think this would bring women together to fight the system and overcome the inequalities.  Au contraire.  Instead, many women in the legal profession have an “every woman for herself” attitude and believe it’s her versus the male masses. 

I’m fortunate to have a group of phenomenal girl friends from law school, all of whom are still attorneys.  We get together often to drink wine and talk about life, love and the practice of law.  I don’t know what I would do without these women and their support.  They have been the first ones to build me up when I’ve felt worthless, when the profession had me feeling two inches tall and full of anxiety and self-doubt.  They’re the ones who reassured me that I wasn’t alone in my frustrations and convinced me that I really was a good lawyer.  It’s funny, the older generation of attorneys – the partners, the mentors, the senior associates – they never tell you you’re a good lawyer.  The best compliment you can hope for is “You’re going to make a great lawyer someday.”  Gee, thanks.  What about today and that project I just busted my ass on?  Anyway, my legal support group never said anything like that to me… ever.  I’m so lucky to have them. 

I hope this blog provides some kind of support… something similar to the strength I take from my group of amazing women… to those who aren’t sure what to do next and only know their misery.  I hope if nothing else, reading this, they know they’re not alone, and perhaps more importantly, that they’re not crazy. 

Ladies, it’s not you… It’s the law.