One of my new-ish coworkers has a kid, which would be largely unremarkable except that he is 22, newly 23. He talks about buying her toys in the same breath he compares the rarity of different My Little Pony figurines; he’s in a complicated relationship with a married woman who isn’t her mother; he earnestly makes terrible and off-color jokes. I laugh at those sometimes, because I want to be nice and it comes easy. When he talks about his daughter, I still haven’t figured out how to react.
Over the weekend, I had my first “real” panic attack. Nothing like the summer shocks I’d felt years before, when mortality would come to me in the night and strike me with a metal bat. No, this was a slow build, weeks of disgust and anger and fear snowballing into a full-body choke, numbness draped over and into me. I felt phantom pains across my hip, ghosts pummeling the soft skin there while the rest of my body buzzed, falling “asleep” even though I was fully awake, eyelids stretched out to their fullest height and fingers and toes curled and clawed. It was the ugliest I have ever felt, and I cried out in pain over and over again as the feeling was ripped out of my body.
My parents visited me last weekend and told me I should go to law school. Grad school in general, but think about how practical law is, how applicable it is in all different industries. Everybody wants to be an entertainment writer but think about the opportunities you’d have if you were instead an entertainment lawyer. You’re a smart, clever girl who likes to argue and besides, wouldn’t you want to go to that school right by you, with the great law program? Don’t waste your time now on a job you don’t like, doing entry level work, when you could be spending it investing in your future. Your future. Your future. Your future. Continue reading