A New and Final Year

Promises About My Final Year in Law School

Ben B.
Ben B.
Sep 4, 2018 · 3 min read
Credit: Travis Ruskus

Tomorrow, I start the first day of my final year of law school. This start, as predictable as it was all summer, has taken me by surprise.

It comes after what feels like a very long — and hot — summer, spent mainly collecting professional accolades. During the past three months, I secured both a federal clerkship in Memphis, Tennessee, and a full-time position at a law firm. Together, these professional experiences will keep me busy for many years of my life — years during which I won’t have to constantly wonder about next steps and short-term milestones.

But this summer also presented me with a gift that exists far beyond the professional world. Namely, it made me recognize that balance, much like patience and self-reliance, is hard to obtain. And yet, when it’s obtained, everything feels — and is — easier.

I received this gift the hard way.

My first two years in law school have felt a lot like an exhausting, prolonged session of interval training. Since the very start of my legal education, I’ve worked very hard, leveraging every opportunity presented to me for something better. An underlying feeling of dissatisfaction colored every day that passed because, to me, much more needed to be accomplished. Grades, jobs, letters of recommendations, awards, and the like — I wanted them all. And to my surprise and current satisfaction, I got much, if not, all of them.

The piece of the puzzle I wasn’t quite grasping, however, was that — while I was busy pursuing these professional objectives — my life kept on. And I neglected much of it.

The activities I did before law school — playing basketball, watching movies, and going out with friends, just to name a few — were sidelined. Only on rare occasions — and in moments of great desperation — did I resort to them. And I use the word “desperation” deliberately because, when I didn’t feel desperate, I would keep on trucking along, hoping to see light at the end of the tunnel soon enough.

While treating myself as such, I also strained some of my relationships — disengaging when some of my loved ones told me I was being hard on my body and ignoring some constructive comments that would’ve saved me from days of emotional distress.

These failings surfaced this summer when — despite the many accomplishments I achieved — I couldn’t quite manage to be happy.

When I spent time with Anne, we weren’t celebrating; we were catching up on lost time, much of it spent calibrating the lack of balance we’d experienced as a couple during my first years in law school.

With friends, although my times with them were memorable, a tinge of anxiety would always persist.

At times, I felt that, instead of partying and hanging out, I could be working. At others, I couldn’t let myself go: My mind, busy with thoughts and doubts, couldn’t be at ease with the thought of simply enjoying uncontrolled time with friends.

And with my family, the group of people to whom I owe the most, I was impatient.

I failed on many occasions to provide it with what it wanted most: time. I wanted hours, minutes, and seconds structured my way, unconstrained by the expectations of others. This attitude, although it helped me survive tough moments, prevented me from acknowledging the pride and love my family had — and has — for me.

But those days are over.

The stress of law school and the pressures it involves will surely persist. But I promise to seek balance in the few months that lie ahead, if only because I experienced this summer the joys of letting go — the tremendous and pleasurable feeling of leaving life to chance and observing what comes of it.

I also promise to counterbalance the time I invest in my work with novelties and journeys into the unknown. My thought right now is to learn a new language and start boxing — two hobbies that I’ve dreamt of doing for a long time.

Here’s to my third and final year of law school and — more importantly — to the unexpected delights it’ll present.

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