One year ago today I was on day five of nine days in a crises center. Today I resigned my license to practice law.
It came as no surprise. It’s been in the work literally for months. At least I managed to have five counts of alleged negligence reduced to three and avoided an indefinite suspension due to mental incompetence. A pyrrhic victory if ever there were one.
Well, now what? It is said that in Russian history there are only two great questions that consumed society, “Who is guilty?” and “What is to be done?” I really do not know who is guilty, if anyone. I have rolled that question around and around in my mind until it is become a smooth marble running on a well-defined groove. Ultimately, that question is futile. Blame will do nothing to repair my current state.
So, what is to be done? At present I seem to be back-pedaling at an enormous rate. Three years of education and ten years of practice – thirteen years of my life – expunged with the stroke of a pen. Friends I once had as a younger man scattered to the winds, never replaced over the intervening years. My fifteen year marriage appears to be slowly dissolving before my eyes, one bit at a time. My three sons stand as the only permanent marker in my life and I fear that I do them more disservice than service as a Father.
How far do I resign? How far do I slide down the sandy dune that is my life before my feet catch hold? I scramble at the crumbling wall until exhausted then ride its flow back down. Each attempt leaves me lower than before. Profession – gone. Friends – gone. Marriage – going.
All of the feel-good “you can do it” “how to fix your life in 40 days” types talk about climbing the ladder only to find it is against the wrong wall once you reach the top. Maybe that is what I am experiencing. Maybe. Climbing down the ladder to put it up to the right wall, so I can climb it again. If so, it sucks. If not, well, it also sucks.
Showing posts with label law. Show all posts
Showing posts with label law. Show all posts
Monday, July 7, 2008
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, August 4, 2007
Law: The Toxic Profession (or, You people drive me crazy -- no, really.)
Let's begin the account of my journey into mental melt-down with a discussion of my former profession -- the law. When it became apparent recently that the practice of law was fundamentally ill-suited to my mental health I stepped back to realize that it is ill-suited to the mental health of any normal human being.
As a cathartic measure I sat down not too long ago and wrote an outline of the reasons why practicing law is toxic to those unfortunate souls who bought the hype and leapt eyes-closed into law school. It turned out to be rather lengthy.
I will not bore you with all of the details, but here are a few nuggets that will help you to see what I mean. In 2006 the state Bar Association to which I belong averaged one suicide of an attorney per month. The vast majority of attorneys (over 70% if I recall correctly) would chose a different profession given the chance to start over again.
The billable hour is an evil and demanding slave master that requires you to justify your existence in 6 or 15 minute intervals all day, every day. There is an inherent conflict of financial interest between yourself and your client -- the client wants as much of your talents and skills as possible while demanding that you do it in as little time as possible and you want the inverse. Often the client who needs the most help or attention is the one least capable of paying for it, so the poor and middle class get poor representation regardless of whether their case warrants it (or the attorney can work for free, literally taking food out of the mouth of his family). The rich get gold-plated excessive representation regardless of the severity of their problem. Under the billable hour, if the 'wheels aren't rolling, you aren't making any money', meaning that you are docked time/pay for every trip to the bathroom, printer jam, hour spent learning a new program or day spent in mandatory professional education.
No one is ever happy to speak to their lawyer. Clients only call in times of stress and emotional turmoil. Often they often call repeatedly, demanding that you undo years of poor choices on their part in a few days or weeks time. Clients almost never see the other side of the argument and demand resolution 100% in line with what they believe to be 'fair'. Any result less than a 'fair' result means that you did a poor job and sold them down the river. Every client is not this way, but enough are to make up for the rest in spades.
And, finally, the cherry on top is that you are the butt of all jokes. Lawyers are the modern jews/paddys/wops/polaks/negros who can be impugned publically and in 'jest' without recourse. Everyone knows that by definition you are a greedy, lying, self-serving bastard.
There is more, but I think this gives one a flavor of it all. I lived in this hell for ten years. Finally, I lost it. My genetic pre-dispositions kicked in with fury, stoked into white-hot flames by my profession. So I say to all of the other attorneys I dealt with, the law professors, the judges, and most of all to every needy demanding client who called incessantly demanding immediate relief from your poor choices, YOU people drove me crazy -- no, really.
As a cathartic measure I sat down not too long ago and wrote an outline of the reasons why practicing law is toxic to those unfortunate souls who bought the hype and leapt eyes-closed into law school. It turned out to be rather lengthy.
I will not bore you with all of the details, but here are a few nuggets that will help you to see what I mean. In 2006 the state Bar Association to which I belong averaged one suicide of an attorney per month. The vast majority of attorneys (over 70% if I recall correctly) would chose a different profession given the chance to start over again.
The billable hour is an evil and demanding slave master that requires you to justify your existence in 6 or 15 minute intervals all day, every day. There is an inherent conflict of financial interest between yourself and your client -- the client wants as much of your talents and skills as possible while demanding that you do it in as little time as possible and you want the inverse. Often the client who needs the most help or attention is the one least capable of paying for it, so the poor and middle class get poor representation regardless of whether their case warrants it (or the attorney can work for free, literally taking food out of the mouth of his family). The rich get gold-plated excessive representation regardless of the severity of their problem. Under the billable hour, if the 'wheels aren't rolling, you aren't making any money', meaning that you are docked time/pay for every trip to the bathroom, printer jam, hour spent learning a new program or day spent in mandatory professional education.
No one is ever happy to speak to their lawyer. Clients only call in times of stress and emotional turmoil. Often they often call repeatedly, demanding that you undo years of poor choices on their part in a few days or weeks time. Clients almost never see the other side of the argument and demand resolution 100% in line with what they believe to be 'fair'. Any result less than a 'fair' result means that you did a poor job and sold them down the river. Every client is not this way, but enough are to make up for the rest in spades.
And, finally, the cherry on top is that you are the butt of all jokes. Lawyers are the modern jews/paddys/wops/polaks/negros who can be impugned publically and in 'jest' without recourse. Everyone knows that by definition you are a greedy, lying, self-serving bastard.
There is more, but I think this gives one a flavor of it all. I lived in this hell for ten years. Finally, I lost it. My genetic pre-dispositions kicked in with fury, stoked into white-hot flames by my profession. So I say to all of the other attorneys I dealt with, the law professors, the judges, and most of all to every needy demanding client who called incessantly demanding immediate relief from your poor choices, YOU people drove me crazy -- no, really.
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