That Time My Body Rejected My Career.

Hours into the prestigious, six-figure job I'd invested years to land, my body takes me out. Revealing what I know deep down, but don't want to face.

The path I've given up so much to travel isn't mine to follow.

I'm a young associate at a giant, elite law-firm in NYC, fresh out of a stint as an enforcement attorney for the SEC. It's everything I think I want. Fancy job, prestigious firm (aka status), a sense of possibility, big-money, a shot at partnership, impact. Surrounded by brilliant, wildly-accomplished colleagues, working on complex mega-deals with global stakes.

I land on an international deal, a public offering on an absurdly short time-line, in a country on the other side of the world. We have to keep the client's hours for meetings, and pile on U.S. hours to do the work. For three weeks, I barely sleep, tethered to the office for days without going home for more than an hour to shower and change suits.

But, we were all in it together. The A team. This is what we do. And, being the newbie, I don't want to let anyone down. So I dig in and just don't stop.

Three days before the deadline, my mind and body start to crash. Living on take-out, adrenaline, and caffeine.

Struggling to think.

Can't focus.

Barely feel.

Until a pain begins to pulse through the center of my body. With each hour, it wrenches deeper into my gut, doubling me over. Still, I have a job to do. Ignore it. Hours before the deal is due, I can barely breathe. Don't say anything, we are in the final moments. Everyone is living their own private version of my brutality. Or, so I think. Grin and bear becomes my mantra. Deal with it later.

We make the deadline. I take a car home, pass out. Hours later, I'm in my doc's office. He examines me, turns pale. "There's a large mass in the middle of your body that wasn't there a few months ago." We rush to the hospital where I learn a massive abscess in the middle of my body has eaten a hole through my intestines from the outside in. I'd had an emergency appendectomy a year before, and it seems a low-grade infection had been left to brew in my innards since. In my wrecked state, my immune system crashed and, voila, devastation.

I'm in a teaching hospital. A rare case. Residents cue at my door, giddy to probe and examine. Differing opinions present scary treatment options with the potential for life-limiting after-effects. Hours later, I'm in surgery. I'm blessed. It's a success.

Now, it's time to heal.

But, it's not just my body that's in need of repair. It's my psyche. I'm awakening to a hard truth. The particular flavor of law I'd chosen to pursue aligns horribly with who I am, what I truly value in life, and how I dream of my chosen professional making me feel. I see the lives partners are living, further devastation sets in.

I. Don't. Want. That. Life.

So, why am I destroying myself to get it?

My body, my ever-trusted canary in the coal mine, has been giving me signals for years. I kept ignoring. Now, I can't.

When your body rejects your career on the level of physical and psychological devastation, comes a time you've got to listen.

I heal up for a few weeks. Return to the office. But, I'm different. Something in me has shifted. I now know this is not my path.

It will take months to plan my pivot. The extraction plan comes in fits and starts. The practical elements. I live in New York City. Money does, and always will matter. Security, or at least the illusion of security, maintains it's allure. I also begin realizing, I'm going to need a buffer to get me through the transition. So I reimagine my day-to-day to make it more humane. To let me keep on keeping on without it further compromising my wellbeing.

Interludes of mad scribbling on legal pads, notes of what I might do with the rest of my life pour out. Smiles. Peace. Further healing. Hope. Possibility.

I start remembering what it feels like to come home to myself. And to resource the journey.

Within a year, I'm gone. Not just from the firm, but the practice of law. Off to the first of a series of entrepreneurial adventures that will unfold over a period of decades. A perpetual quest to navigate the sweet spot between realized humanity, full-expression, and meaningful contribution.

Where does it lead? I will be answering this question 'til my final punch-card. But, now, more often than not, with joy in my heart, passion in my step, agency in my hands, and a community of people I cannot get enough of traveling with me.

Now, what about you? Where are you headed? And, why?

#CatalystMoment

+++

If you enjoyed this essay, be sure to follow the SPARKED newsletter, and share it with those who might need to reconnect with possibility again.