Leaving Litigation Life: How I Chose Balance, Peace, and A Good Night’s Sleep

I took a new job this year and it is one of the scariest decisions I have ever made.

It is also one of the best. 

However, change did not come easy.  It took me a very long time to even consider switching jobs.  There was too much uncertainty and discomfort that I was not willing to push past. Here I am six months into my new job, and I am proud of myself for taking the leap. I won’t say I never looked back, because I often look back, but only with gratitude and appreciation for the lessons learned (and maybe a little FOMO from time to time).            

From the moment I entered law school, I knew in my soul I wanted to become a prosecutor, which is what made the decision to leave so hard. Whenever people asked me about my future, I never hesitated to spout my enthusiasm about landing my dream job as an Assistant State’s Attorney, a career that spanned just over 11 years. For so many prosecutors and other quasi-law enforcement people, this type of work doesn’t feel just like a job; it feels like a calling. It felt that way for a long time to me. It was a significant part of my identity and my sense of self. I was always drawn to public service and once I became a prosecutor, it was (and still is) the greatest job. It’s fun. It’s exhilarating. It’s exhausting. The camaraderie of your team and the sharing of war stories is like no other workplace.  But for me, the excitement came alongside stress, especially as I moved up the ranks and the cases became more serious and at times, high-profile, which meant a lot of scrutiny and pressure.

I never in a million years imagined that I would leave prosecution. But things change.

As much as I fought my feelings, it stopped being a job I loved. It was more than just exhausting, it was all-consuming. As the cases grew more serious, my worries increased, and I started to get the ‘Sunday scaries’ which made me dread the upcoming week. I worked on cases of family violence, including sexual violence, and as much passion and fire as I had in my heart and soul to prosecute these cases, there was an equal amount of behind-the-scenes stress. It carried over into my personal and family life. I fought the urge to leave because I convinced myself that stress was a badge of honor and a trade-off for the satisfaction of doing good meaningful work. Stress is what I signed up for, I told myself, just like being sore after a hard work-out. I felt a tremendous need to overload myself by volunteering for extra work, etc. I often sought external validation and felt disappointed. I took pride in my lack of boundaries because I thought it made me more committed to the job. I never turned my phone off. I responded to emails immediately. Even on vacation. There was no separation between work Tasha and home Tasha. And then one day, that way of living stopped working for me. It wasn’t as fulfilling anymore and that was hard to admit, sort of like when you fall out of love with someone or when you decide to leave an unhealthy relationship.  

Some of the major changes inside me took place during COVID after we returned to work, doing trials in masks from behind plastic barriers and all of the craziness that came with that setting.  I also changed when I had my son, Will, in 2022. They say motherhood changes you. For me, it was a metamorphosis. I always imagined that I could be a working mom and juggle it all, but trial work with a new baby was a real grind. I remember falling asleep a few times in my suit on the couch while my son played on the floor. I was too tired to really be present with him and I hated it.  I’d heard people use words like “work life balance” to explain why they left high-stress jobs and I never really understood what that meant. I assume they just wanted an easy gig.  I assumed they were just “family-focused.” As if that is somehow a bad thing. As if shifting your priorities for the best interest of your family is something to be looked down upon. I know I secretly judged people who left trial work for more balance and less stress.

Now I was ready to join them.

 I will never forget the time when my infant son was really sick and I was in the middle of a huge, high-profile case and I had to get him from school and work from home. I had my files spread out all over the table while he slept in his little seat, also on top of the table like he was a plant. Thank goodness for my amazing husband because he took time off when I couldn’t. My mom also helped in between. It was a lot.  I knew going back to work after maternity leave would be hard, but I didn’t expect for my mindset and my priorities to shift so drastically. I struggled with feeling like I was “mom tracking” myself when I wanted to transition into a less stressful role as a prosecutor, to do less intense trial work.

At the time, I felt like I would be taking the easy route and admitting I was not mentally tough enough to handle it all. People often assume that you have to always be moving upwards in your career towards higher goals, as if everyone can and should aspire to be at The Top. What is The Top anyway?  I picture it all like a triangle and the way I see it, there is not a lot of room at the top, certainly not for everyone. From what I’ve observed in life, the top can also be a very lonely, unfulfilling place. I wanted to want that definition of success, but in my heart, it didn’t feel authentic. I wanted meaningful work, but I wanted peace, health and balance above all else. I wanted a full life outside of work and for my job to only be a small part of my identity. Was that even possible? I tossed and turned for months feeling deeply conflicted.

All the moms out there can probably relate to the Guilt (yes it has a capital letter!) we feel about working too much and feeling like there aren’t enough hours in the day to handle kids, dinner, errands, etc. A voice in my head kept asking, Am I just another woman who had a baby and left? (Hats off to all the moms who are doing really hard jobs! You have my praise and support not that you need it). Ultimately, I decided that it wasn’t just becoming a mom that led to my decision to change gears. I think becoming a mom just made me strong and brave enough to make the tough choice that was the right choice for so many other reasons.

I know a lot of trial attorneys get an adrenaline rush from the anxiety, I mean excitement, of trial work. I did for a long time. There is nothing quite as invigorating and parts of me will always miss it. I watched Law and Order SVU for so many years yearning to be working on those cases and now I watch it, feeling thankful that I am out of that world. The criminal justice system can be so unpredictable, unfair and chaotic. To anyone who ever finds themselves involved in a criminal case, you have my sympathies because the process is grueling, and it can feel so unfair. I am a deeply feeling person and a true empath at my core, so I carried a lot of other people’s pain and worries with me, which unfortunately left very little in my emotional gas tank at the end of the day for myself or my family.

 I started to wonder if another area of law could provide me satisfaction and purpose. Certainly, this one thing can’t be the only type of law I can master.  I know that people leave jobs every single day, but this felt like trading one life for another. I did a lot of soul-searching (and a lot of job searching) and it took me almost a year before I found the right fit. I worried about whether my resume, my skills, and my experience were good enough to do something different.  So many prosecutors I know think our skills are limited to criminal law. I’ve heard it many times. I’ve told it to myself countless times. It’s fear talking. Nothing could be further from the truth. Prosecutors are critical thinkers. We are problem solvers. We are negotiators. We are public speakers. Those are amazing skills that many other lawyers do not have. Just remember, you can learn anything in time. You’re not going to be an expert at your new job and there will be a learning curve for sure. My boss chose someone with a resume of exclusively trial work to do a job that entails zero trial work, but I’m doing it.

I am writing this because I know so many people, including myself, who have felt stuck either in a job or a relationship that no longer fits. This is not limited to prosecutors or to lawyers.

We all underestimate ourselves and many of us fear change.

When I read the job description for my current role, I don’t think that I checked any of their criteria, other than being a lawyer with several years of experience, albeit in a wholly unrelated area. I now work in a field that is as far from criminal law as one can get. I still feel like an intern most days. My team is comprised of people who seem like subject matter experts, and I am still the newbie sitting there taking notes feverishly with a zillion questions circling in my head. I ask questions all the time, which is new for me. I am here to learn and one day I hope to be the person who answers questions for the newbie.

I started in January and the first few weeks were really hard. I hated my laptop and didn’t know how to use any of the programs.  I was used to books and files, and this was a new and paperless world. I am fully remote, so I learned everything at home by myself. It was a really tough transition for a visual person like me who is *terrible* at technology.  Picture your grandmother. I remember feeling like I was on an island by myself, and I admit I cried out of frustration. This is too hard, I am quitting. I told Amy that a few times as I sobbed. She talked me off the ledge, and slowly, verrrry slowly, things started to click. I still have so much to learn, and I have questions all the time, but I don’t mind being the new kid so much anymore. I work hard. I try. I am willing to screw up and learn. I feel like things make more sense every day.  

When I have a hard day, I remind myself of this: I was hired for a reason. I have the skills and the ability to do this, even if it doesn’t come easily. Also this: tomorrow is a new day.

 Besides getting to be at home with my dogs next to me, the best part of my job is that I have very little to no stress. It is a totally different type of job that being a litigator. If trial life is like New York City at rush hour then this work is a small farm town in Oklahoma with one stop light. Things move slower outside of criminal law life and there are fewer emergencies. Almost nothing is done on the fly. Everything is reviewed and edited ad infinitum. It’s not as exciting, but the trade-off is that I don’t carry any of the stress that I used to. I sleep like a baby, and I don’t need anxiety medicine to manage the day. I also don’t receive, nor do I send frantic emails anymore. I close my laptop at 5:00 PM and I take off my lawyer hat and I become a mother and a wife. I never think about work when I am not working. I have a separate work phone and it isn’t my lifeline. It’s been incredible for my mental and physical health, and I like the person I am becoming. She is much more relaxed and true to her values.

I will always hold my former job close to my heart because it is where I grew up as a lawyer and where I learned from some really amazing leaders. I never thought I would leave, and sometimes I still find myself talking and thinking like a prosecutor. I will always love criminal law. I follow high-profile trials for fun and I still love reading the crime-fiction genre. It’s in my bones.

The difference is that now my life is not consumed with or defined by being a prosecutor. It was simply one chapter of my career and of my life.

Big Smiles on her last day outside court