Friends At Work

I am absolutely, ecstatically delighted because another part of my master plan just clicked in to place. One of my close friends, Essa, who suffered through with me working at my old firm, The Law Firm From Hell, just started working at my new firm! I’m so excited for her that she no longer has to subject herself to that toxic, dismal, soul-crushing environment, and I’m so excited for me because now I have yet another one of my closest friends working with me! Yay!

I love, love, love my new law firm. Eight months in to it and I LOVE IT. Quite a difference from my last firm where, on the first day, I felt as if a piece of me had started to die a slow, miserable, suffocating death. Now, I am literally filled with warm, fuzzy gratitude to my new firm on a regular basis. They saved me from the Law Firm From Hell, they are normal, wonderful human beings, and they have allowed me to work with some of my closest friends. First there was Em, then there was getting to know all of the other awesome associates who work here, and now Essa has joined the crew.

Seriously, what could be better than coming in to work every day and working with your friends? Ok, maybe having a spa vacation with all of your friends would be better than working. But, short of a vacation, working with your friends in a positive environment, in a place where you genuinely feel happy to come to work every day, pretty much takes the cake in terms of a daily working existence.

I’m so happy and grateful at the moment, I’m moved to say: If you are in an unhappy place, get out. CHANGE THINGS. They can be better. A lot better. You won’t regret it.

Drafting Doldrums

I really quite desperately want to sleep.

Unfortunately, I have a rather gigantic assignment due that is taking literally forever. It’s 9:00 pm and I’m stuck in the office and probably will not be able to go home for a while. Boo. As I have nothing substantive or interesting to say, I guess the point of this post is to whine. *frowning* This is the first OBIM day that I’ve had in a long, long time.

Which reminds me, it’s actually Tuesday! Which is both good and bad. Good, because I’m that much closer to the end of the week and my coveted weekend. Bad, because I have a boatload of work to do and I’m not sure how I’m going to do it. I’m also supposed to go on a date tomorrow night with the Masked Priest, but it’s unclear at this juncture how that’s going to happen.

Help.

I’ll leave you with a funny tidbit: The other day, I heard someone describe a person as ineffective by calling them a “one-armed coat hanger.” Hilarious. Come to think of it, I kind of feel like a one-armed coat hanger right now.

Date Update: The Masked Priest just called and for the third time in a row he did something that left me feeling pleasantly surprised. How delightful. He called with an idea for a bar to meet at tomorrow night which was midway between both of us in a cool area. Then, during the conversation when I was saying that I might have to meet up a bit later because of work, he suggested that we meet for dinner instead (because I would not have been able to eat by then). He even had a restaurant suggestion. He listened, thought of me, and suggested something that would make my life more pleasant. He’s confident, has back-up plans, and fun ideas. Remarkable. Wow. I kind of feel like a one-and-a-half armed coat hanger now. Once again I’m left with the impression that this guy might be kind of cool. Despite my work, I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow.

Procrastination Sex Break

Ever since the Black Dress Revelation, I had been doing quite well in terms of feeling balanced. In the last two days there was a slight dip, not in my mood, but in my habits as a result of some work stress. I have a big project due and it’s taking a lot of time and instead of working on it throughout the weekend, I procrastinated. Procrastinating is the worst. But, it’s almost as bad to force yourself to do something you don’t want to do in the middle of the weekend; hence the problem. I’ve been chewing so much gum that my jaw hurts.

In a break from working, I watched Episode 6 of “Tell Me You Love Me.” Dude. I think that’s possibly the most blatant sex I’ve ever seen, short of watching myself in a mirror. I don’t even know how they film that without having sex. I’m talking specifically about Jamie and the Hot Guy from Lost (Shannon’s Brother). Not only did we see a full frontal semi-open shot of her – which was frankly a little more information than I needed – we saw his ass and what may or may not have been the base of his actual penis between their entwined legs. I’m kind of shocked, but also fascinated.

In addition to sex, “Tell Me You Love Me” has been boob-crazy of late. I’ve seen so much of the Woman-Who-Can’t-Get-Pregnant’s boobs that, today, when she made love to Pollack with her sweater on, it felt like a nice change to see her covered up. Her boobs are kind of amazing. So big and mushable. It must feel different to guys (or girls) when they embrace someone with large pillowy boobs versus little boobs. Do they notice? Oddly though, during the sex scenes with Women-Who-Can’t-Get-Pregnant, I felt like her boobs looked a bit uncomfortable. They were getting seriously smashed. It made me afraid that they were going to pop.

Finally, there was the 60-year old therapist and her husband getting it on in front of the fire place with a nice bottle of red wine. Those people know how to set the mood apparently, and our Miss-Sixty-Thang looked like she had a fantastic orgasm. It’s a little weird to see older people having sex, but I think it’s wonderful. We should have more models like that. One more thing to counter our toxic-youth-obsessed culture.

Filing

I just spent the last 14 hours of my life focused on one single goal: To revise and file a brief electronically on the United States electronic filing system. One would think that electronic filing would be simple and user-friendly. It’s not.

Things I did not do today: work out, make my own coffee, overeat, talk to anyone outside of work.

Mood: Quite good but tired, and slightly stressed.

Stuck In A Rabbit Hole

In the saga of my life, the last two weeks will hereafter be known as the Digital Ash In Underground weeks, because I’ve been listening to the Bright Eyes album, Digital Ash In a Digital Urn in a constant mini-loop. I’ve been jumping over the first three songs, mainly because “Arc of Time” is so upbeat it’s distracting.

I’ve been starting my loop with “Down in a Rabbit Hole.” It’s dark, intense, and kind of sad and the perfect backdrop against which to make scads of tables and charts. The lyrics start with, “I heard you fell into a rabbit hole, covered yourself up in snow. Baby, tell me where’d you go for days and days? Do they make you stay up all night? Did they paint your face that pasty white?” Lyrics are very important to me, almost more important than the actual sound of a song. This song has been speaking to me, because that’s how I feel, like I’ve fallen into a rabbit hole for days and days.

It’s dark and cramped in the rabbit hole and there’s only room for a few things including work and the pro-bono work I’ve been doing for my two young friends. The rabbit hole is deep and it’s hard to climb out of it. Instead, I’ve used any down time in the rabbit hole to fatten myself up on candy, yogurt covered pretzels, and disgusting quantities of junk food, as if there was a siege coming on that I had to be prepared for. Anxiety is like that, it fills you with fear about what is to come, and makes it very difficult to exist in the present. Anxiety in a dark, super intense rabbit hole is even worse because there’s no counter-balancing influences. A few of my friends and family have tried to call, but it’s been too much effort to stop what I’ve been doing and to reach out to them from the depths of the hole.

Not that this is necessarily bad. It’s definitely not like when I was working at my old firm, and instead of rabbit holes I was constantly adrift in a toxic, putrid sea of despair and frustration. Here, the rabbit hole is not the product of evil. It’s just a place I’ve fallen in to while trying to get everything done that I need to (with the exception of the ridiculous jaunt to Fire Island which only worsened things by making me hungover, sick, and so tired).

I’d prefer not to have to sequester myself in rabbit holes when in super-stress mode. I’d prefer to be able to take breaks, do yoga, and eat healthfully, while working around the clock. But, that’s so hard for me right now. It’s been hard for me for a while. It’s so hard when I’m in the middle of a mountain of work to force myself to take time to relax. It’s actually basically impossible.

I think it’s one of the reasons I’ve been eating more than usual. I think I’ve been using food to force myself to relax. I think I’ve been using it as a coping mechanism to sooth my anxiety. Do any of you do that? I’ve been toying with this idea for a while, but the more I think about it the more I think there’s some truth there. For example, during the past two weeks, other than my brief, drunken jaunt to Fire Island, I’ve taken no time away from work and I’ve been working very late, and I’ve had almost no time at all where I felt genuinely relaxed (I also wasn’t relaxed in Fire Island, just inebriated).

For most of the two weeks, I’ve been a ball of anxiety. It’s been hard to get to sleep. I’ve had intense dreams and have had to rely on sleeping pills to get my mind to quiet down. I’ve been going at this constant level of intensity, and again, it’s not bad, I don’t feel at any kind of breaking point, but I do feel kind of exhausted. And, I’m just realizing how difficult it is for me to relax in the midst of all of these demands. It’s hard to relaxed when immersed in a rabbit hole. Particularly, when teenagers are depending on me, and when I don’t have a bath-tub.

I leave for California tomorrow and will have an intense 5 days of work there. I’m taking the red eye back in the middle of the week and am already internally cringing at the amount of sleep I won’t get that night. Thursday and Friday will be rough, mainly because I’ll be sleep deprived and I might have to play catch-up at work.

However, next weekend, things should be better. By next weekend, my two young friends will be resettled, Sven will be gone, Rumi will be back, and a series of deadlines in my cases will have passed. I can’t wait. I just want to relax.

But, I want to really relax (like I was supposed to be doing right now in Detroit). I want to run and be healthy and enjoy my time sitting still. I’m so sick of going, going, going until I have to drug myself to shut down. That’s the dark side of the rabbit hole. I’m thinking of cutting out caffeine and alcohol, starting a gratitude journal and fasting. My friend Simone said I am capable of change and that it is only me who is holding me back (I thought that was slightly unnecessary, though true).

Ok, I’ve got to go jump back down into the hole. When I poke my head out next, I would be very interested to see if anyone has any non-drug and non-food related ideas for how one can force oneself to relax in the midst of work-related anxiety and stress. Please don’t say meditation. There’s no where to sit comfortably down here.

Hoping

I’m neglecting my friends. I haven’t seen Pele for weeks, haven’t written Lakshmi back, and haven’t gone climbing with Sage.

I’m neglecting my family. I’ve only had snippets of conversation with my mom, and when I did I didn’t even thank her for the sweet note she sent me a few days ago. At least I remembered to call Bean on her birthday.

I’m neglecting my whole health-kick. Whatever.

I’m neglecting dating. Ditto.

I’m neglecting my blog and my blog friends, but I trust you will understand.

Two young people need me right now, and I’m doing my best to be there for them. They’re moving away and I’m going to miss them far more than I can put into words. They are extraordinary and they deserve to have a normal life, but that’s all they want. They want a normal life free of abuse, where they can have a place to live, the opportunity to pursue an education, and the ability to work.

It’s not much to ask for, and it oftentimes makes my chest hurt that I can’t do more for them than I’m doing, that I can’t magically fix everything that they need fixed.

One of my favorite things is making them laugh. I don’t care if I’m being silly and they’re laughing at my silliness. I don’t care at all if they’re laughing at me. Seeing them smile and laugh until their stomachs hurt, for a few minutes their faces free of the usual clouds of worry, fills me with a sense of perfect contentment, and a deep conviction that if nothing else, with respect to them, I’ve actually done something in my life. I’ve done something good. I’ve made a contribution.

But, it’s the kind of contribution that doesn’t come to an end at a finite moment in time, something that I’ve come to realize many people do not understand (including many people who work in the dark underbelly of the non-profit world). It’s like that with human lives. You can’t just pick one up, fix a part of it, and then drop it back into the ether to fend for itself. Helping has responsibilities when you’re dealing with a human life.

I have that sense of responsibility and I am not burdened by it. What they have brought in to my life in terms of meaning, purpose, and happiness is as great or greater than anything I’ve been able to give them. If you knew them, you would feel the same.

I just want them to be OK. And, for right now, that’s all I can think about.

Slightly Envious of Sleeping Beauty

How quickly things change: Three weeks ago my biggest obsessions of the moment were random boys that I was sort of dating and the whole nutritionist-weight-loss-rebellion debacle. For the last two weeks, work has eclipsed all of that. I find myself longing for the days when I had nothing more than food and boys to plague my dreams.

I still like my new job about 10,000 times better than my old job, and it is rewarding enough and the late nights are relatively infrequent enough to make it worth it for now. But, be that as it may, I have been getting killed at work. My sleep is suffering, and when my sleep suffers, I suffer. My little jaunt to Fire Island and the world of everlasting college-dom, drinking games, and raucous partying did not help matters. And, I just found out yesterday – 6 hours after booking a flight to visit my friend Wood over Labor Day weekend – that I have to fly to California this weekend for work instead. I was so looking forward to chilling in D-Town with Wood and her family, but alas, no break for me at the moment.

Despite the busy work schedule, I’m squeezing in another match.com date tomorrow evening. My first match.com date went remarkably well. The guy was friendly, fun, and entertaining. We talked a lot about music and shows and very little about work – amazing as we’re both corporate lawyers and work’s often all corporate lawyers have to talk about. He also taught me two random things, one of which was that the northern part of Texas is called “the panhandle” because it looks like a Panhandle!! Who knew! I can’t remember the other random thing, but it was interesting at the time.

A funny thing happened on the way to the bathroom when I was crossing a stretch of heavily polished floor, thankfully out of sight of our table: I totally bit it. My heel slid on the glossy floor and I landed flat on my back in the middle of the hotel lobby (we had met at a hotel bar for drinks) surrounded by a crowd of milling gawkers, none of whom offered me their hand. I’d had three drinks so it was no easy matter rebalancing myself and getting back up on the slick surface. Yikes. I was still laughing about it by the time I got back to our table.

Tomorrow night, I’m meeting another guy from match.com for a drink after work at a place near where we both work. He sounds smart, interesting, and relatively normal. He’s also bi-cultural (one European and one American parent – like me!) and 6′ 4″. Very nice. Overall he seems like a nice guy, so I’m almost – but not quite – looking forward to it. One can’t get too crazy about these things, as I learned several weeks ago when one of the match.com boys cancelled on me 4 hours before the date! Hmph.

I’m headed to bed now to get my beauty sleep, and I’m crossing my fingers that work goes relatively smoothly tomorrow.

I’m starting to feel like I need a vacation!

Line Crossing

I’ve been dealing with an emergency on one of my pro bono cases since Friday, and also trying to take care of all of my other work, so I haven’t had much of a chance to write. After a very stressful weekend, I feel more hopeful today about my case.

Pro bono cases are challenging for many reasons, not the least of which is that lines often end up getting crossed. Your work as a lawyer melds into that of a counselor, a big sister, and a friend, and back again. People tell you not to cross those lines. They tell you that getting emotional could negatively affect your clients by influencing your ability to be objective. Other people tell you that your line crossing has saved the lives of your clients, and encourage your passion and commitment. Everyone has an opinion about how you should act and what you’re doing wrong. Some have praise for what you’re doing right.

So, what do you do? You keep focused on the best interests of your clients and you try to do what’s right. When they come into the office for meetings, you feed them. When they call feeling hopeless, you listen and try to remind them that they are not alone. When they need support, you provide it to them.

You do it because it’s the best thing for your case, because even the most successful legal action is worthless without a client around to benefit from its success. You do it because you care, and because not doing anything when you see someone in so much need is impossible. You also do it because if you didn’t, no one else would.

At least that’s why I do it. The Evil Empire doesn’t scare me. I just wish it didn’t make things so challenging for me and my clients sometimes.

My New View

Diving Back In?

The moment of truth has arrived. After 9 relatively blissful weeks away from Corporate America, tomorrow I’m throwing myself back into the fire pit. I’m nervous. Not about the people or the work, because I think the people will actually turn out to be quite nice and the work should be far more interesting and engaging then the work at my previous firm.

What I’m nervous about, perhaps irrationally but I think understandably, is finding myself back in the type of toxic, soul destroying environment that caused me to leave my last firm. The fear is irrational because I did my research on this new firm and everything I know about it leads me to believe that it will be a million times better than my old firm on just about every level. For example, my last firm expected associates to be at their beck and call around the clock. At the new place, most people leave by 7 pm each night, and almost no one works on the weekends.

But, it’s still a law firm, and I’m still going to be doing work that’s not my true passion. I worry – despite my strong conviction that worrying is absolutely pointless – that the new place won’t be different enough, that in starting this job I’m putting myself back in a situation that will wear down my spirit and lead me to become despondent and depressed once again.

Even as I write this, I know that my concerns are unfounded because I would never again allow myself to get to the place that I was a year or six months ago. I’d see the warning signs – both in my professional and personal life – and this time I would get out long before my spirit was crushed into the ground and ripped into a thousand tiny pieces. I’m confident in my strength and in the lessons that I learned during the last year.

Despite my concerns, I’m trying to maintain a positive attitude and hoping for the best. I would like to believe that I could actually enjoy this new job, and I’m excited about starting my new life free of all of the negativity of the past. However, having been ripped apart once, I think it makes sense that I would feel cautious about starting something new. The new firm doesn’t appear to be run by demons with steel tipped talons, but I really won’t know until after I’ve begun working there.

Either way, demons or not, I know it’s going to be OK. I survived an incredibly toxic work situation and a destructive relationship at the same time. This time around, there’s no relationship negativity to wear me down, and there’s no way that any work situation (short of digging trenches in India in the summer) could be as bad as the one I had working for Dragon Lady. So, really, there is nothing to worry about. If it turns out to be horrible, I’ll leave. I’ve done it once and I can do it again. But, hopefully I won’t have to.

Photo: Demons trying to distract the Buddha, painted on a temple wall in Darjeeling.