Dear Readers,
The part I love the most about writing here is the readers — that’s you! A while ago I received this email, and I spent some time pondering a helpful response. Here’s what she shared:
“I sat in court yesterday after getting yelled at — by judge, client, etc. I looked down at my files and thought, ‘Can I do this?’
I’m not sure that developing a better self-care and mindfulness practice will improve my experience as a PD. I would love it if it did, but I’m not sure it is possible.
Anyhow, I am wondering — how did you leave the DA’s office? Did you look for other criminal work? Did you know you wanted to do something else completely? Did you regret it at all after you left? Was it hard finding work in another field? And most importantly, do you find that your current practice is inherently less stressful than working as a DA?”
In my experience, given the choice between stepping into uncertainty and staying stuck, steeped in misery, many people, especially lawyers, choose the latter.
When I left the State Attorney’s Office, I knew I didn’t want to do any other criminal work. I was done. I was done with the criminal “justice” system, I was done with Tampa, Florida. I didn’t know what the future held for me, but staying was no longer an option.
Interestingly, after I left the SAO, I had an opportunity to try my hand at exporting wine to Korea. I still have ties to Korea and there was an increased interest in Californian wine. So, I moved to San Francisco. My timing couldn’t have been worse. I moved in 2008, as the financial crisis loomed. Once the economy tanked, so did the export market.
After that, I opened JC Law Group PC, a bankruptcy law firm with my (now) husband. This also wasn’t part of some well-executed plan. My husband and I saw a need for competent consumer bankruptcy lawyers, and we enjoyed the practice area. Initially, we tried to fold the practice into the law firm my husband was working for, but it quickly became clear that we would be better off starting our own practice.
During those years from 2009-2012, we had more work than we ever anticipated. We were both working around the clock. From that perspective, the bankruptcy practice was probably more stressful than my job at SAO. However, I have found that when you are doing work that is deeply aligned with your core values, and doing work that gives you meaning, stress can be the fuel that motivates you.
I remember when I was at the SAO, feeling as though there were no options. After all, I went to law school with the intention of becoming a prosecutor and that was the exact thing I was doing. I wasn’t qualified to do anything else. A decade later, I see so clearly that this limiting belief was completely self-imposed.
When we’re in school, there are discrete steps we must complete before we are given permission to do the next thing. You have to get a bachelor’s degree before taking the LSAT. You have to get that J.D. before sitting for the bar exam. This idea that we need permission to do the next thing is a difficult mental construct to break.
On some deep level, I believed I was only qualified to be a prosecutor. However, this discounts two very important facts: one, you can learn new skills, and two, you are more than your job title.
I never once regretted my decision to leave. My only regret is not recognizing the world of possibilities that lie just in the next chapter. I regret not leaving sooner. I think if I had been practicing mindfulness back then, I would’ve realized staying was the wrong decision much sooner.
One of the most profound, unexpected benefits I have gotten out of my mindfulness practice is being okay with uncertainty. If I can commit myself to this moment, and not panic about the uncertainty of the future, I can better orient each step in the right direction.
Part of being with the unknown and uncertainty was recognizing that I am my own worst gatekeeper. The thing that often stands in the way of doing what I truly want isn’t an external force, but rather myself. I stopped waiting for a permission slip.
What I am continually learning is that no one will say “yes” until you ask — until you show up. No one gave me a permission slip that said I can start and run a successful law firm. No one gave me a permission slip that said I can write a book.
So, my question to you, my dear readers, is this: are you waiting for someone to give you a permission slip to do the thing you are meant to do? Are you waiting for a permission slip so you can avoid failure? What if the only thing that’s truly stopping you is your own self-limiting beliefs? I invite you to experiment, explore, and see for yourself.
This article previously appeared on Above the Law.