This past year, I worked a full time year. For most people, that's not a big deal. In years past for me, that wouldn't be news at all. But in BigLaw speak, after so much medical leave and working from a recliner at home when I could even work at all, that officially means, I'm "back." And I am given important work to do. And am assimilated into my team. In real world terms, it means I finally proved to myself and everyone else I could still do this very hard and demanding job of mine after my seven surgeries and all the recovery time that goes with that. It means people I work with believe in me. It means I believe in me. It means my kids get to see what grit and determination looks like. What getting up when we fall looks like. And my law firm is incredible. Not only in terms of the work we do, the clients we have, and the quality of intellect of the people with whom I work, but also in terms of how well they have supported me through my difficult time because they understood the value I bring to the table. While I work in BigLaw, which is known for being an environment that is the toughest of the tough, this firm is special. All the high expectations are there, but the support is also there when they see that you're giving your all and have real value to contribute. So, it's a win-win. I think those close to me probably all wondered for a while there (me included) whether I could still do this given the physical hurdles I faced. Whether my professional re-emergence was possible. It was humbling and scary. To my core. For years. Especially when I'm the sole breadwinner, and I have precious young eyes looking up to me for love and financial support as they grow and shine through their childhood years. While nothing in life is ever assured, it feels damn good to be back in the swing of things, to be working in my office for full days every day, and to have even earned a bonus this past year for all the everything I've committed of myself to this endeavor during my steep climb up the recovery hill. And climbing is hard with these operated-on hips, let me tell you.
Last week, I had two monumental achievements... well, monumental to me.
First, on Monday, I gave a CLE (continuing legal education) presentation to a group of lawyers in my firm. It was based on the substance of a scholarly article I've written that is being published in June in a major legal journal in my field. I spoke for about an hour while people either were or pretended to be interested in jury trial rights issues in bankruptcy detailed in my PowerPoint. I used to speak to large rooms filled with lawyers about all sorts of topics related to my field at various conferences both in Texas and Louisiana. But I've not done it in about three years due to all my surgeries. And the room of folks to whom I spoke this week wasn't as large as many I've faced, but still. I did it, and did it well.
Second, I attended a dinner meeting of the Inn of Court (a true honor to be a part of) this week. I've been unable to sit for extended periods for so long that I've also not attended Inn meetings in years. It felt incredible to attend, and I was moved by how warmly I was welcomed by my colleagues in my field from firms all over the DFW metroplex. I sent an email yesterday to the seven or so people with whom I sat at dinner at the Inn meeting just to say how much I enjoyed being in their company again, and everyone sent me lovely responses in return. It's always important to show people you're grateful for their presence when you are. That stuff matters. My Dad taught me that, among many other things, when I was a baby lawyer, and his influence and guidance regarding my professional career has been immeasurably valuable. Mostly, it consists of being mindful and friendly to everyone (because you never know who you're going to meet and how your meeting might be a light or a help for you, the other person, or someone else), being damn good at what you do (this is where the hours of grunt work and polishing of grey matter come in), and putting yourself out there (this is where bravery comes in), so that people know you and know what you're good at so that you become a go-to person when it comes to the things for which you're known. And then people start to use the word "expert" when they talk about you and your work (who knew I'd become an expert on bankruptcy jurisdiction, for instance?). That advice has increased my success ten-fold. It's a pretty simple formula really, but there's a lot of character and discipline that goes into putting into action. It's funny... I wonder where I'd be today but for the orthopedic quagmire that dragged me down. It's probably not worth thinking about... "what if" roads rarely are. Instead, it's better to think more along the lines of being a phoenix that people weren't sure would rise again. But I'm rising. Because that's who I am. And this week, I have concrete examples of forward progress. Of rising from my ashes.
And next week, I'm attending a conference for lawyers and judges in my field in New Orleans. Which takes my breath away. I used to speak at gigs like this, but I'm not speaking this time... though I'm thrilled to be attending. I'm the most senior attorney from my firm attending this year, so it's important for me to be there and to circulate. And it will feel like putting on an old comfortable pair of loved shoes I haven't worn in a while (though, ironically, I don't think I get to wear my trademark heels to this conference just yet because of my hip). Settling back into the professional public me I worked so hard to build. And I'm really looking forward to it. My oldest brother is also a restructuring lawyer (ahem, a fancy way of saying business bankruptcy lawyer), and he'll be there, too. Which is a comfort and gives me even more to look forward to. Quality time with my big brother. Given how different our personalities are, I find humor and odd joy in the fact that we ended up with pretty much the same job (though we approach it in our own unique ways and at different firms). And then the cherry on top of this cake is that I get to spend the weekend in New Orleans after the conference with some of my dear Louisiana girlfriends, who always fill me up and bring much needed insight, hugs, and laughter into my life. And I get to be in New Orleans, a city that always sings to me. It's where I visited my grandparents so many times growing up, and a place I attended so many concerts in my youth... in short, a place that is simply beloved to me.
Despite all my positivity and talk of rising from the ashes, there's something I'm a little afraid of. The scary part I keep trying not to think about is that I'm flying alone for the first time in 3 maybe 4 years. Flying is flying... which is always a little scary just because of the small space and nowhere-to-go-in-an-emergency fact of being in a plane among the clouds. The normal flying fear, I find, is easily overcome by consciously remembering how cool it, in fact, is to be in the clouds. And amazing music in headphones and a good book to read (I've definitely got the music and headphones part covered, and I have a book arriving from Amazon today) also create lovely distractions. But here's the thing... schlepping myself and my things through an airport while still maimed is not something I'm looking forward to. It's precarious because I am not willing to hurt myself again, and I have to be so careful that I don't. And it's an embarrassing contradiction to still not be physically independent when this girl inside is so independent. But if there's anything this broken-bodied journey of mine has taught me, it's the grace necessary to ask for help when I need it. So, Southwest (and perhaps fellow passengers) and New Orleans hotel staff, here I come... and I may need a hand here and there to make it where I am going. Some help on my journey onward and upward. Because it matters. And I simply have to be me again, and this is part of it.
So it's a monumental couple of weeks for this curly-haired girl with a cane... who happens to clean up pretty well in a suit when she needs to.
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