We don't live here anymore

I quit my job. After giving notice two weeks ago, tonight I shut down my computer, turned in my keys, turned out the lights and walked out the door. I am free. I will never again bill my time or track my life in six minute increments. It was surreal walking into the building this morning. For five years (literally to the day) I have walked into that high rise downtown with my Starbucks in hand, frantically reading my blackberry and worrying. Worrying about what I needed to do that day. About what I forgot to do the day before. About what someone would call about. About what I would say in court. About whether I'd be able to depose a plaintiff in a way that would lead to admissions that would end up resolving the case in favor of my client. About whether my clients were happy or upset with me. About whether I was impressive enough to last. About whether I would make partner. About whether I wanted to make partner. About whether I was good enough, smart enough, capable enough, prepared enough. About whether my non-lawyer friends would really understand when I missed another event. About whether my non-lawyer friends would even remember who I was when I called or emailed; eventually. Today, I'm not worried about any of that anymore. I could have done it. I was good enough. I just didn't like it. I never want to do that again. I walked out the door today happy for the first time in years. I have come full circle. I am going on to a new position much like the one I had before law school. This time it comes with a better title and department, but it's much the same. I'll be a counselor and a consultant. I don't need to make the sausage anymore. When I turned out the lights tonight and left, it felt like the end of a sitcom with a long run on television. I half expected the law firm cast to come out for applause. It is the end of my charade for good. I am not that character. I am finally free.