Dana Boyle

Someone reminded me today that I graduated from law school ten years ago yesterday.  March 17, 2002.  Wow, that flew by in a blink!

Me as a baby lawyer.

It made me think back to that day and what I thought my life would be like, and then to marvel at how it actually is today, ten years into my legal career.

When I was a law student, I had a vague sense of wanting to make a difference.  That’s why we all go to law school, isn’t it?  I wanted to change the world, have an impact, be of service, help women, defy norms and expectations, scribble outside the lines, and start my own practice.

I had a vision back then for the kind of firm I wanted to create.  I still have that vision.  I have never openly shared it with anyone, outside of a small circle of my husband, sister and my assistant – oh, and I shared it in a business class I took last year.  I’m still building my practice, and hope to someday implement that vision and realize it fully.  I haven’t abandoned it.

Ten years ago I thought I’d be an international lawyer.  I thought I’d work in human rights, immigration, or some other international arena.  I wanted to travel, help the poorest among us, be a hero.  I began my legal career that way, working for an immigration law firm, actually.  Before long I realized I had chosen what seemed to be a forms-filling, box-checking job.  There was nobody to call – there were no arguments.  Just fill in a form and send it in with a packet.  I’d rather poke my eyes out.

Along the route to who I have become and how I serve the world, I sold out for a while.  I gave up on my dreams so that I could make an ex-boyfriend happy and pay my student loan payments.  The message I was hearing loud and clear was, “You better get a job downtown and pay those loans off.  Forget about changing the world!  Change your net worth or you’ll never get married!”  I took a job in insurance defense and worked there for five years.

During that time, I felt trapped.  I felt untapped.  I felt stunted.  I felt inauthentic and disempowered.  I felt marginalized.  I felt hopeless.  I felt used.  I felt utterly incompetent.  I felt no matter what I did, I wasn’t good enough.  I felt like a glorified paralegal.  I felt like a fraud, because I didn’t believe in the cause my clients and my firm were fighting for – even though I convinced myself to embrace it for a while.  This was all because I was not at cause over my life.  I was in a victim mindset because I hadn’t chosen this kind of career (or so I was telling myself).  I was being forced to do it.  (I was walking around believing that for years until I got coaching and coach training.)

Those five years gave me a foundation as a lawyer and a professional.  I did learn the model of professionalism that I want to espouse.  I learned client management.  I learned how to write to my client audience.  I learned how to manage a case load.  I learned where to sit in a courtroom, how to address the court, how to win motion arguments, how to write an appellate brief, and to always have a jacket on hand.  I learned how to act like a lawyer, if I didn’t learn how to practice law.

I learned the value of networking.  I have always been a natural networker, but didn’t know the value of it prior to working in a downtown law firm.  I just thought being friendly and open was a nice way to be – and it was my nature.  I learned that it can really serve me as a lawyer.

I learned that I can’t be happy if I’m not living with the freedom and flexibility to express myself and my values, even at work.

I learned that I won’t put up with bullying, because that’s the thing I became a lawyer to help people with most.  If I allow myself to be bullied, then what kind of example am I setting and how effective am I at all?

I learned that I had to make the choices I made so that I would lose myself so completely that I would fight hard and work hard to figure out who I am and appreciate who I am so much that I want to help everyone else I meet stand firmly in who they are, and for who they are.

I spent the better part of a year getting very clear about what I wanted next, and feeling pretty certain it was nothing to do with being a lawyer.

I went on job interviews at other firms and actually was HONEST when they asked me questions.  Where I used to interview well, I now interviewed authentically.  I still got offers, but for way less than I knew I could make on my own, and many were wary of my desire for independence, flexibility and freedom of expression.  It wasn’t a fit and many of them encouraged me to start my own firm.  One head hunter fell in love with me and is still my good friend, but refused to place me because she felt I was called to have my own business.  She began handing out my business cards instead.

I worked up the courage, despite “everyone” telling me to wait and to have a safety net, to take a leap and hang a shingle.  I’d wanted to do it for a long time but had so many people telling me I couldn’t do it, it would be hard, I wouldn’t make money.

I attended a leadership conference where an elder lawyer reminded me why I went to law school, pointed out the tools and gifts I have, and gave me his best “dad” speech about how I better get my butt out there and help people, because I have something nobody else has, and he didn’t want to hear me ever say I was “unemployed” again.  It helped that he told me how he hung his own shingle ten years earlier with four kids and a stay-at-home wife, plus student loans, and that I have no excuse.

I hung my own shingle the next Monday.

Another mentor attorney with many more years than me told me to accept every case for the first year, and I did.  He said to try everything, and notice what comes to me most and what I enjoy most and then do that exclusively when I feel ready.

Oddly, I had hated family law when I first graduated and tried it.  I hated the fighting, the ugliness, the bitterness, and seeing grown men cry on the stand at trial as my boss cross-examined them.  It broke my heart and stressed me out.

In my own new practice, I began to feel like a good friend who was holding someone’s hand, helping them through a very painful time in their lives, helping them to re-define their family going forward, and listening when they had nobody else to talk to.  I discovered that I could help them at least be kind to themselves as they navigated divorce, if they and their spouse couldn’t agree to amicably resolve things.  I especially enjoyed helping people figure out how to co-parent after divorce, and put their children first, because if they didn’t get their marriages right, they did get their kids right – or at least that is usually the intention.

About two years into my own practice I began to exclusively handle family law matters and fully embrace the practice area.  I developed my own personal brand around it.  I established my own way of doing it.  I felt fully lined up with my core values – family, connection and kindness.  I felt like I was making a difference.  I felt like I was scribbling outside the lines, defying norms, and helping women AND men.

Not only was I able to start a legal practice, but I was able to incorporate my coaching practice into my brand.  I use coaching all the time with my legal clients, and I coach in addition to legal representation.  I was not able to do that until I worked for myself – again, scribbling outside the lines and defying expectations.

Ten years into my legal career it doesn’t look like I thought it would.  It looks better than I imagined.  It looks different than I imagined, but all the key components are fulfilled.  My values are expressed.  My intentions are realized.  I am blessed.

I now have a soon-to-be dual-state practice that is flexible and allows me to work from home most days, work from anywhere I want most of the time, be in control of my calendar for the most part, fully express myself and my values, tap into my natural talents, and share my gifts with the world.

I get paid to do what I love to do – help people with their most intimate connections, their families – with kindness, and while using the tools that helped me become the best me I know how to be.

Ten years ago, I would never have wanted to hang a shingle a few blocks from where I grew up and help my friends and acquaintances with divorce and relationships.  I would have thought that was settling.  I would have thought it wasn’t big enough or good enough.  I would have felt cheated.

I’ve lived all over this country.  I’ve lived in other countries.  I’ve tried on lots of things.  I am so grateful for every experience that has led me to today.  I truly love my life and my practice.

It took me eight years to like being a lawyer.  I used to talk people out of law school.  I’m glad I didn’t throw in the towel.  Now, I’m convinced I can help people figure out how to love it just like I did.

If nothing else, it’s a great lesson in letting go of the details and the hows and being clear on the basic vision, on your values, and following what feels good to your own bliss.

I still owe quite a bit in student loans, but the difference today is that I don’t feel stuck in a career I didn’t bargain for and resentful of it – instead, I feel thankful that I have the opportunity to help people the way I do, to be put to good use in the world, and to be compensated the way I am for doing it.

Who knows what it’ll look like in another ten years, but my naive optimism of ten years ago has returned and I welcome the adventure.

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