This Is Why I’ll Keep Saying No to Law
And have zero regrets
I was a year of articles and two board exams shy of being a lawyer. It looked like I was almost there — like I just had to stretch my determination a little more — but the only thing I wanted to stretch was a gigantic rubber band. So I could use it to shoot thick bits of paper at everyone saying, “You sure you don’t want to go into law? You can just draft contracts.”
Sure, I could do that. Or I could draft a note addressed to all the contract lovers: “Thanks for the helpful suggestion; unfortunately, I’d rather eat mothballs.”
At first, it was a difficult decision to make (as it is when deciding between contracts and mothballs). I had this weird kind of allegiance toward the thing I’d spent a good four years on.
But as time passed, that allegiance turned into a guilt-fuelled obligation, then a shadow I couldn’t shake free of.
Finally, I learned to walk with that shadow, accepting it as a constant that would always be there in the background; however, I could choose the act that would take center stage in my life.
Here’s why I backed away from that #lawlife as if it were a pervert:
1. My physical and mental health deserved (much) better than what “law” had to offer
That large chunk of time following graduation is a blur of unwellness. Years flew by and I was on this hamster wheel, trying to reclaim my physical and mental health that had been bulldozed by the stress I experienced working toward a law degree.
It was as if my body’s batteries were damaged and never seemed to charge to full capacity no matter how much I slept or how little I did.
I was depleted.
To add to that, the anxiety I had during my years of studying became a raging, “Mwahahahaha” monster, hell-bent on destroying whatever mental strength I had left.
It didn’t take very long for me to became a shell of my former self.
Continuing with law now meant that I’d be heading straight toward an early grave.
For a long time, I used “law” as a scapegoat — and in my weaker moments, I still do. It’s easier to pin the blame on something, anything other than myself.
But, it was I, with the piss-poor stress management “strategies” (if I can even call it that) who drove myself to ill-health.
I just thought my well-being would sustain itself until I could “get around” to it.
2. Reading legislation and legal judgments made me want to live off the earth
Whenever I read documents filled with legal jargon and unnecessarily complex words, I contemplated doing life Bear Grylls style. And I just might have set off to the nearest forest had my survival skills been greater than zero.
Nothing ticked me off more than legal judgments. The judges’ words reeked of superiority and “I must write more, even if I’m saying the same thing in different ways, because I really love what I’m saying.”
Perhaps I’m being too harsh due to the pain I felt over reading those judgments.
Perhaps I’ve unfairly placed ALL legal judgments in the basket labeled “Perfumed Word Diarrhoea.”
It’s just that I’d come to a point where I didn’t want to read legal writing anymore.
I hungered for texts filled with emotion, color, and creative freedom; cold, clinical texts were sucking the joy right out of me.
3. I couldn’t stay in a loveless marriage
I didn’t love law — not enough to stick with it through thick and thin. And I couldn’t imagine squandering my life away on something I “sometimes maybe kind of liked” in the hopes that I’d grow to love it.
A loveless career marriage wasn’t for me.
Yes, I know.
I know how lucky I am that I had the privilege of choice. That I could tuck away a four-year law degree and pursue anything else without worrying about giant student loans, rent, food, and dependents.
With such a privilege, I just had to chase after the one thing I loved more than anything: creative writing
People will likely continue to question my choice.
On the surface, it looks like I’ve lost my marbles; I’ve thrown away what could have been a stable, lucrative career in law only to tinkle around with stories, essays, and some copywriting.
(The peeps always ignore/overlook the part where my health was so tatty, there was no way I could hold down a full-time job, let alone one in law. A story for another day.)
The thing is, I haven’t lost my marbles.
They’re actually all accounted for.
What I have lost, though, is a lot of the anger I’d been carrying around as a shield to defend myself against careless (albeit well-intentioned), stupid, and uninformed remarks.
Instead of anger, I’m now going with the kind of confidence that says to naysayers, “Yeah, I’m tinkering with them stories and essays and stuff, and I’m living my life with purpose. (One day) I shall perish with zero regrets. What about you?”
