I Quit Law Last Week
If you read my book, I’d Rather Kill Myself Than Be A Lawyer: How Anyone Can Find Happiness, you might think I quit law on April 12, 1995, the day of the overdose. While a reasonable assumption, it is inaccurate.
I quit last week.
Sure, for all practical purposes I quit in 1995. Downing a handful of pills in your place of business is a pretty good way to impact career advancement. That said, I maintained my license to practice until November 18, 2020.
In New York, there is a ritual every two years where attorneys are required to renew their law licenses. I like to call it the New York state sanctioned shake down. The process itself, while annoying and pricey, is no big deal. You complete continuing education courses and then submit your registration. It’s mostly just another way to raise revenue.
I don’t derive any income from practicing law so I always wait until the last possible moment to renew. It’s my FU to the man. [1] It always bothered me to pay the fee for the privilege of not practicing, thus I was again overdue for my bi-annual renewal.
In truth, the real reason I’ve waited is I’ve wanted to retire my license for quite a while. In the very beginning, keeping my license made sense. After my unusual exit from law, I kept my license because I had no idea if I would have to go back to some area of practice in order to pay bills. It was a safety net.
Over the ensuing years, the odds of my returning to practice were at best remote. I stopped “needing” to maintain my license around 2001. Nevertheless, I could not escape the voice in the back of my mind reminding me that I might one day return to the job I hated and that nearly killed me.
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This year, when I logged into the New York State Attorney web site and reviewed the renewal options, I found myself once again hovering over the “retired” option, fantasizing about pulling the trigger and officially “retiring”. Then it happened. I pulled the trigger, clicked “retired” and formally left the profession I abandoned many years before.
It was official. My parents had wasted their money.
Why, you might ask, did I decide to actually pull the plug twenty years later? The better question, I think, is why did I wait twenty-five years to “retire” from law?
The answer is simple: fear of being a failure.
Fear
In the book, I discuss the acronym my mentor taught me for fear:
False
Evidence
Appearing
Real
The acronym makes sense. Fear causes us to create these worst-case scenarios in our heads. We give them enough energy (attention) and it can become a driving force for good or evil.
Fear of Failure
Fear has always been a double edged sword for me. The fear based stories I told myself were often productive. If I don’t study, I will fail this test. if I don’t work hard, I will fail to support myself. If I don’t work out, I will be fail to be in shape. If I fail to pay my taxes, I will be thrown in jail, have to join a gang and end up with a face tattoo.
Fear of failing at something in the right amount and for the right reason has been a somewhat positive thing for me. It served to motivate.
When Fear of failing morphed into fear of being a failure, all bets were off and I was in trouble.
Fear of Being a Failure
Fear of being a failure was never a good thing. It caused me to have several regrettable stress induced melt downs and one suicide attempt. Fear of being a failure came from labelling myself. I based my self worth on my mistaken perception of what other people expected of me. I interpreted those perceived expectations as my own.
If I don’t become a doctor I am a failure. If I don’t stay on as president of the fraternity, despite being miserable, I will have failed. If I don’t practice law, I am a failure. If I don’t live in a particular home, I am a failure If I do not achieve a certain level at work, I am a failure.
It took me almost 55 years to figure out a couple of really valuable lessons around being a failure. First, the only expectation that matters is your own. Second, most people don’t really care at all about what you do. The labels we are afraid to have attached to us are in our heads.
So I finally accepted the fact that I am not a failure not being licensed to practice law. I retired my license. That was a good day.
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[1] As you can see, I’m a real rebel.