Today is the 15th anniversary of my admission to the California Bar. On that day, 15 years ago, I stood and took a separate oath before a Navy JAG officer who was an alum of my law school (my law school did this) and then, with everyone else, before at least one California Supreme Court justice and other notables from the judiciary, took the Bar oath.
I listened to the speeches and was moved by them as well as by the achievement we all had accomplished. I saw partners and families rejoicing around their newly-minted lawyers. It was joyful. I was so glad I attended.
I almost didn’t. That is, I could have taken my oath separately and not at this big event. Privately. And in Los Angeles where I was living at the time. I chose to come back and do it with my fellow Cal Western grads and other locals. I wanted to be a part of the group, even if only on the edges.
See, I had moved to LA right after taking the bar exam. In a grand gesture I moved up there to make my life with a man who lived there (he worked in the movie industry). I was madly in love… heavy on the madly. It was passionate and surreal and more than a little crazy, but I believed in love (still do!) so, why not? Sadly, shortly after settling into our downtown LA loft, I discovered he had a gambling problem and its co-morbid lying and financial problems1. I was wise enough to end it, lick my wounds, take the financial hit (I was quite broke) and return to San Diego, a city I very much prefer over Los Angeles. Heartbroken, but I knew it was the right thing to do.
Now, none of my family ever offered to help me after a breakup. None of them ever came to me to hold me, let me cry on their shoulders, much less carry a piece of furniture. I had been through several hard (and some actually traumatic) experiences, including two divorces (with abuse and stalking) without anyone coming to me to help. I wonder often if this is because I am the only woman–that is, I have two brothers and my father was alive then still. Did my gender make a difference? Could they not empathize?
Whatever, I am not unaccustomed to being alone in the hard times. I’m really quite adept at navigating shit alone, even though I never like it, of course. Chop wood, carry water… I was that way even before I started reading Buddhism. Luckily, I’d had enough study by the time of the Los Angeles breakup to be able to roll with the knowledge of impermanence. I’d be okay.
But at that moment of celebration, as I took my oaths, not having anyone be there for me, well, I felt it. I felt more alone than in the hard times. I had a stranger take the photo above. I got no hugs, just handshakes from professors and the JAG officer. No flowers other than the simple rose pinned to my lapel, given by my alma mater2. No one took me to lunch. There was no champagne. I simply took my oaths, listened to the speeches, then got back in my Miata and drove back to Los Angeles, to continue packing for my move.
And even now, remembering it, I get misty. It fucking hurt.
Today, again, I celebrate alone. I’m proud of what I did and what I have made of that work. I love my clients and would do it all again, for sure. But, again, I feel more of the aloneness than I have during recent hurtful, difficult times.
As I think about it, I wonder if we’re conditioned to think about having the people who love us support us in the hard times but don’t pay attention to having people support us (or supporting them) in the good times. Maybe, it is at least as important. For example, my neighbor who met her now-boyfriend about the time of my break-up seemed extra thrilled that I made a very big deal about wanting to see her happiness and hear all of the excitement and joy. And I did! Being there with her in her joy was wonderful. For us both.
Maybe we connect even more by being there in the moments of others’ joy?
My neighbors’ twins are celebrating a birthday this week: they’re turning 9. Instead of wallowing in my loneliness today, I think I’ll go buy them some gift cards to the local book store and the ice cream store next door to it. To celebrate my bar-iversary, I can be in their joy.
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