The Devil I Knew

Yes, I hated my profession by the end. Actually, I hated my profession quite some time before the end. But, there was one advantage to practicing law – when I could force myself to do it I was a damn good lawyer. I know it sounds conceited, even arrogant, to say it in that manner. But it is the truth. Other attorneys, some quite senior to me, would often pop into my office and bounce ideas off of me. Usually, I could add to what they had already come up with. Where other attorneys came to a stumbling block, I could often point out a theory or case that would allow them to at least have a fig leaf of an argument if not a winning case. This was, perhaps, the only aspect of practicing law that I did not completely hate. Not that it did myself or my clients much good.

I could help others with legal theory, but especially at the end, I could not bring myself to do so much as make a phone call, or even answer a phone call. The other attorneys in the building would drop by and I would offer sound advice on their cases, then immediately go back to navel gazing. But, in my heart, I knew that I could do it. My competence was in no way in doubt.

Then all of that changed. Regardless of the “prestige” of being a lawyer, I recognized the need move on from the law. Now that change has arrived, I find myself again at the foot of a steep learning curve in my new profession. Perhaps it is a bit of an exaggeration to say “the foot”, but I do have much to learn. After having achieved a high level of competence in my prior profession, this can be difficult to take.

At each misstep or error, which happens more often than I’d like when dealing with math, the critical voice inside my head goes into overtime. Perhaps you have heard this voice as well, the one that tells you, “You are a fool” “You will be fired” “They’ve seen through you now”, etc. ad nauseum. No, again not an actual voice, thank God, but feelings of doubt, low self-worth, and pure fear. The fear is the worst part. It is the part of my mind that unleashes the primal monkey in my brain and makes me want to climb chittering up the nearest tree and hurl feces at passersby.

All of this is coupled with the damnable self-examination to which I must constantly subject myself. “Am I being manic, or is this a normal reaction to a stressful situation?” “Is it normal to feel this frustrated at the end of a difficult day at work, or am I sliding into a depression?”

Someone asked me the other day if I missed practicing law. I answered honestly that I did not miss it one teeny tiny bit. I still believe that to be true. I am still relieved not to deal with the problems and emotions of others (dealing with my own are enough, thankyouverymuch). But what I do miss is the feeling of absolute competence. The feeling of mastery of a profession. The positive part of my mind tells me that I will learn this new profession in time as well – perhaps becoming as fluent in this as in others before. But at present this is cold comfort. No matter how it galled, how much it burned, I miss dancing with the Devil I knew.