My Home is on Fire

Let’s start at the beginning. How did I end up here? Not just at OSU taking this capstone class with all of you amazingly talented people, but here…at my desk…writing several lines of code just to show my nephew I can make “num + num” spit out a correct sum in a little black terminal box.  To answer that, I have to go back to 2018; the year everything fell apart.

It’s a sunny Saturday in late June and the I’m sitting on the floor against a wall, staring at my apartment balcony. My puppy, Inlé, sits patiently with me, her head resting against my hip. I don’t know what time it is or when I last had a meal.  The perfect storm of several cases requiring trial prep at the same time has kept me at the firm for over 100 hours since this time last week. Inlé keeps glancing up at me, anxiety written all over her white furry little face.  I hear a knocking sound at my front door. It gets louder but it still does not quite register. “Kristina, you home? You’ve ignored my texts for like a month now, what’s going on?” With the scraping sound of a welcome mat being kicked aside to reveal a spare key underneath, I know I don’t have to respond. A tall man with curly red hair sporting a rainbow EDM hoodie and bright gold over-the-ear headphones dangling around his neck walks into the room. “Girl, we are all worried about you. It’s like you fell off the edge of the earth…” Then he sees me on the floor, still in my dress shirt and slacks from the prior day, Inlé’s silent plea for him to intervene. He kneels down to my level and furrows his brows, “Tina, seriously, you can’t keep going like this.” He refills Inlé’s food and water bowls, runs my dishwasher, and places a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on my lap. “Something has to change…”

Most people know the general signs of burnout.  Chronic fatigue, lack of interest in life, difficulty concentrating, and lack of sleep. Most people also know the stereotypical lackluster responses in combating burnout. The lip service given by firms during interviews on how much work-life balance is valued. That occasional “mental health” day where you still need to use what precious little PTO you have.  But what most people do not know is how long and much of a life-change is needed to fully heal from running your batteries down to empty.

Since I was 12, I wanted to be a lawyer.  A doe-eyed, small town kid mesmerized by local prosecutors conducting cross-examination and sharp-tongued, beautifully constructed rebuttals.  By 2018, my daily rituals included hours of researching and typing until my eyes glaze over pleading papers, watching all non-attorney staff leave for the day at a reasonable hour, and leaving the office only after the city had turned in for the night. It was not what I envisioned for my life. Nevertheless, day after day I re-convinced myself that if I just pushed through it, things would get better at some point. But “some point” never came. The trouble is, you do not realize when to stop until you look down and see that your fingers are singed to the bone, you look in the mirror and see your eyes hollow like dying embers, and your rice-paper lungs are perforated black. Your house is burning down with you in it.

Cue the scene where a lightbulb turns on above my head and a radical idea bursts into my thoughts. ‘I’m going to slowly die here unless I take my life in a completely different direction.  What if I quit my job and went back to college?’ For me, this was a scary thought, as I’ve never quit a job without another job already lined up. I thought back to the last time I was truly happy either studying or practicing law, and the only memories I could muster were assisting with intellectual property matters. After an extensive search into what educational background I would need to take the registration exam through the United States Patent and Trademark Office, and what patent law firm hiring partners preferred, I found that a degree in computer science would fit the bill.  And there you have it. My sights were set on a new career path. No more living at an office desk constantly drained by belligerent opposing counsel or flighty clients. I was ready for a fresh new chapter in life. With an OSU acceptance letter in hand, I walked away from my old home and let it burn to the ground.

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