For a majority of my BigLaw career, I referred to myself as a “lifer” with pride and joy.

I loved being an associate. 

I loved the work. 

I loved feeling like I had the safety net of brilliant people looking over my work and telling me what to do.

I loved the people I worked with. 

I loved my firm. 

I didn’t even mind the hours most of the time. At least in the beginning, when I was young and fresh and had more energy.

I thought that my BigLaw career - at my specific firm, in my specific group - would be my forever job. 

It was exhilarating to think that I had found my place. 

Somewhere along the way, something changed.

The idea of being a “lifer” made me feel trapped. And sad. And tired. And overwhelmed. And anxious. 

I thought I was the problem. 

That I just couldn’t hack it. That I wasn’t good enough.

But I wasn’t the problem. And the job wasn’t the problem. The only problem was that deep down, in a place I couldn’t access yet, my brain knew:

This job was no longer my preference. 

It no longer aligned with who I was. What I wanted. What I valued. 

I didn’t want to be a “lifer.” And I wasn’t sure what to do with that. It was scary. And confusing. And overwhelming. 

So my brain just kept offering me the thought that I was the problem. That I just needed to be more confident. That I just needed to be better. Then I wouldn’t be so anxious. 

It finally clicked for me that none of that was the issue. Instead, that anxiety was a deep scream from somewhere inside of me. One that was shouting “This is no longer your life.”  

It took acknowledging what I wanted out loud —admitting that I was wrong about being a lifer — before I could start solving the “problems” my brain was trying to avoid: What’s next, then? Why would you give all this up? Who are you? Why did you waste all this time? 

And I worked through each one of those scary questions. Because I allowed myself to acknowledge that I didn’t want this life anymore and that it meant nothing about me. That had to come first for me. 

We spend so much time refusing to acknowledge what we truly want because we are afraid we can’t have it. 

But our brains know. And our bodies know. That we are denying ourselves. And that cognitive dissonance doesn’t feel good. It’s hard. It takes mental and emotional energy. 

That could be spent figuring out how to get what we want. 

What’s something you want that you are denying yourself because you don’t think you can have it? 

A love note to you: If life doesn’t feel the way you think it should. If it feels like something is missing. If you want something you don’t think you can have. I’m here to help. Coaching is a great way to uncover why our lives feel the way they do, what needs to change, and how to make that change happen. To hear more, get started by sending me a DM or signing up for a free hour call with me at jenndealcoaching.as.me/consult where we will talk through all of these things in a judgment-free zone.