Missing an Ex
- 09
- 29
- 09
Dear Mr. BigLaw,
How are you these days? We haven’t seen each other or spoken in a while, but I do hear about you from time to time. From friends and newspapers. Despite the recession and everything else, it sounds like you are surviving.
I know this letter is foolish. It will likely be lost in a big pile of paper on your polished marble desk. It is likely that you do not even remember me. That I was just one of the fungible young girls who flitted through your golden revolving door, a girl who never quite got your attention.
Truth be told, I think of you sometimes. In particular, about that day I left you. It was a Friday in late January and I really didn’t give you much warning. No, in many ways I blindsided you, spewing that cliched excuse-upon-exit: it’s not you, it’s me. But I assure you this was true. Not that you care.
You were plenty good to me. You shrouded me with things: money and benefits and contacts. I basked in the glow of your impersonal warmth. But, in time, in a short time, I realized that in your corporate company, I felt stifled and sluggish and even a bit sad. I decided that I didn’t want to spend many years in a relationship that was good and secure, but far less than thrilling.
It didn’t take long to find your replacement. Writing. And he’s a dodgy fellow, not always easy to live with, but he inspires me each and every day. He has taught me what love is. What laughter is. What learning is. Our romance is not stuffed with Town Cars and four-star lunches, but with words and ideas and most importantly, questions.
But sometimes, in this new relationship, I feel moments of loneliness. And, in these quiet moments, I long for our conference room banter and catered buffets. For more predictable things. For pinstripes and power and prestige. For the brainstorming and business trips we used to enjoy. Or pretend to. And sometimes I miss being able to say that I am with you because I know that some people, too many people, were so impressed with that.
Maybe we didn’t have enough closure. Maybe I ran away too quickly because I could. Because I didn’t need you to support me. Maybe I fled fast because I was a bit scared. That I was being hasty. That I was making a profound mistake. Or maybe I escaped with little explanation because I knew even then the power you had over me. I knew that after everything, after all those years of courting and commitment, it wouldn’t be easy to quit you. And it wasn’t.
I sometimes wonder who replaced me. Is she good and honest? Does she work hard? Too hard? Does she treat you well? Does she treat herself well? Will she stick with you through thick and thin? Will she wait out the tough times and see if you will ask her to commit? And, someday, if you ask her that very important question, if you ask her to be your partner, will she say I do?
Sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I never left. Would we still be together? Or would I have found another reason to walk away? Or would you, faced with the grim reality of a rabid recession, have let me go? If I had stayed and you had let me, would we be happy? Or, would things be the same as they were back then when I put on a good face with my good suit and we floated through long days together, graceful pretenders?
This is tough to admit, but sometimes, late at night, I lie in bed and think of you and wonder whether you would take me back. If I begged and pleaded and tried harder this time? But then I wake up in the morning and I’m relieved and pleased with the way things are. I am exactly where I should be. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t miss you sometimes and think about you and talk about our time together. Even though our relationship was relatively brief, a mere blip on that resume radar, for me it was very real. In some small, but significant way, you made me who I am.
So, try as I might, I will not forget you. The things you showed me about myself and life and the enigma of happiness. About real risk and real reward.
Maybe we will meet again one day. Or maybe we won’t. Only time will tell.
Insecurely yours,
Aidan
You have managed to put words to many of the things I’ve felt since leaving BigLaw, but I also always come back to feeling relieved that I am where I am now instead. Still, it’s always interesting to wonder what kind of life I would have now if I had made that choice instead!
Wow! Great post.
If you are thinking about going back to law, remember that there are so many different directions you can go with it. The most prestigious and perhaps lucrative is the big corporate law firm, but there are many other niches that you might find more fulfilling.
My father hated being a lawyer for a long time, but he finally found his way to focusing on publishing and copyright, and got to work with some legendary writers and artists along the way. So there can be a way to blend your different interests sometimes.
Isn’t it amazing how mixed emotions can linger long past the actual point of decision? I chose to go back to work after my maternity leave ended in February. I don’t regret the decision, but there are days when I really wonder what it would be like if I’d chosen to stay home.
I also find it interesting how you seem to find as much identity in having left Big Law as you do in having been a part of it. I know it was a huge decision, and those sorts of decisions can hardly help but be defining. But if we ever want to move past that definition, can we? Something to ponder, I guess.
Hi Aidan, I’ve been reading you off and on and I really enjoy reading your posts. I especially admire your courageous and honest display of insecurities that many of us share from time to time. This is my first time to comment.
I have friends who practiced law and left upon realizing they had better dreams to pursue. One (who, incidentally also went to ivy league schools like you) went on to be a professional belly dancer and physical fitness instructor. Another started her own publishing business. They both seem to thrive in their careers. (I won’t even go into people I know who went through law school and never practiced.)
This post sums up a lot of how many of us feel when we leave a situation that isn’t inherently terrible; that may even be desirable. I really believe that with a little introspection, we can’t make a wrong decision. You certainly strike me as someone who knows very well how to distill your true feelings about something, and for that, I don’t think you can go wrong, even if one day you decide to go back to law.
whatever brings you happiness and contentment and peace my friend… peace.
wow. this was so honest and open. i loved it.
Great post. Although, except for one summer, I never succumbed to the siren song of Biglaw, I know through my husband what a mixed bag it is. I love being a prosecutor but I too sometimes wonder about the biglaw road not taken. The prestige, money and the resources are tempting but in the end I don’t think it is for me. And I must admit that I love when I go against biglaw types and win. Ultimately, for you and for me, it isn’t where we belong. And if somehow one day we think it is, it will still be there (although slightly humbled due to the recession).
What is it about Big Law that has people leaving as fast as the came? Maybe that is just the people I know.
You must be deeply disturbed thinking this way. Why dwell on it? Remember the biblical adminition: …”For many are called, but few are chosen.”
Nuff said.
I have exes that haunt me too, then I hear where they are at in there lives and I am sooo happy it ended and I found the right man I deserved!
No regrets, baby, no regrets. You’re doing exactly what you should be doing. You’re a gifted writer who is writing. Perfect!
At least you are doing something artistic and meaningful instead of flirting with Biglaw, knowing perhaps you are not really in love with it. And at least you did not go into politics like the rest of those shall we say, failed corporate lawyers dictating on things they know nothing about, such as healthcare or banking. Keep doing what you are doing, you do it so well.
Sweets, the big question “What if…?” is pretty common, and I find nothing wrong with asking it. Doing what you love is the most important thing.
Mr. BigLaw indeed — wish I had seen this (and commented!) at the time (no one but you will see my comment now!) So true, so true — the prestige and the pinstripes and the free rides home are siren songs, are they not? Because I was a struggling (i.e., poor) journalist for nine years before law school, I feel like I can’t walk away quite yet. Still, at the moment, all BigLaw is giving me is the ability to say I work for such-and-such prestigious firm. (We all know that Mr. BigLaw is not supportive of family life.) Am hoping that once I pay my dues I can find the right happy medium because I did leave journalism for the law for a reason — I really do like being a lawyer. Just not one with a 1900 hr./year cloud hanging over her head.
Now that I’ve read this, I won’t steal the term so blatantly (but still wish I had thought of it first!). Brilliant idea for a post. Cheers!
Loved, loved, loved this post. If I ever start a blog, I will be happy if it is written half as well as yours (or a third or quarter, really). I know I am late, but I have just recently stumbled accross your blog and can’t get enough. This post makes me think about life and the decisions we make and about, no matter what we tell ourselves about how it is never too late and we have a world of opportunities, the truth is that in the process of making decisions we, well, eliminate things. It’s life and it’s great, especially when we can afford (financially, emotionally) to do what we love. But we will always have those “what if” moments. And even if we are doing exactly what we want to be doing, it doesn’t mean that we can’t miss, and occassionally long for, other things. Beautiful piece, Aidan.