Emerging for a Third Act!
Twenty years ago, I was nearly 36. I’d had a great first act working for 12 years at Toronto City Hall. The day after Labour Day, I excitedly began my second act: law. I was in Victoria, BC where, other than a bit of family, I knew no-one. I hadn’t been in school for over a decade. Other students would mostly be younger, the profs maybe, too. I felt I was only starting to get to know myself, the protagonist of my own play.
That second act really kicked into gear when, three years later, also the day after Labour Day, I began working at Iler Campbell LLP. I had no idea what to expect. I knew the firm served co-ops, non-profits, and charities, but I didn’t really have a clue what that meant. I had a passing acquaintance with two of the lawyers but otherwise knew no-one. I knew myself well enough to know I’d struggle being a beginner again after the comfort of school and feeling confident in my first act.
This past Tuesday, the day after Labour Day, my firm, where I became a partner seven years ago, announced many changes. That communication included the fact my second act will end on December 31, 2022 when I will leave the firm. I’m ready to step onto a new stage for the third.
“Why?” people have asked. And sometimes, “why now?”
It’s been percolating for a long time - think of a 50 cup coffeemaker, rather than a stove-top Moka. The first year after Jack died I lived my life like a child reciting multiplication tables - this, then this, then this - without thinking or looking for meaning. Familiarity was a salve for my internal bruising.
In early 2020, the coffeemaker within me was switched to “on,” and I felt the first simmering in my gut. It was subtle, but I knew I was ready to find something new in my life, something to fill some of the gaps left by Jack dying. Around that time too I won a prize for the series I wrote about Jack’s MAID death making me think maybe I said things others want to hear.
COVID simultaneously injected dark purple back into my grief bruises and pulled the plug on my internal coffee pot. For months, I struggled to find meaning in anything, personal or professional, as I worked from home full-time for the first time in my life. I tried hard to keep a sense of community among my colleagues, but like the parent who opts to put the child’s oxygen mask on before their own, I couldn’t catch my breath and those efforts fell flat. My circle of friends got smaller and smaller, as people “bubbled” with those who lived close and shared their COVID perspective. I had never been more alone; I had never felt more alone.
My computer became like Wilson was to Tom Hanks in Castaway, a confidante and companion. Two years ago, I began to write in earnest, first about Jack, his illness, and the details of his death, and then, six months later, more broadly through this blog. I began appreciating the solitude, the simplicity of living and working in the same space and not having to uproot daily to move to another community. I expanded my circle of phone and Zoom people to include others who work in the sector I’ve served, but who are outside the firm. I saw I’d reached the point where my most important asset was my Rolodex. I imagined a life that didn’t involve a 9-5 position but incorporated a range of income sources and a wider variety of work and left me more time to write. At the same time, I realized I was living in a small portion of my house while talking about the need for people to think creatively about housing.
A year ago, the coffee had bubbled to the top of my internal pot, the percolation complete. I began speaking with friends about a plan to convert my garage to a laneway suite designed for the life I want, to rent my house out for income now and into retirement, and to leave the firm. Without exception, everyone gave it all two thumbs up. I gave myself permission to put this potentially risky plan into action.
I am not someone who particularly enjoys the journey, so it’s been a long and sometimes frustrating year. The garage plan hasn’t come to fruition - quite - but I expect a building permit soon and will share more about this in a subsequent blog. I wouldn’t have left the firm that has been so important to me for the last 17 years unless I knew it would flourish well into the future. After many long discussions, I’m thrilled two colleagues have joined the partnership, ensuring stability for the team who have become my friends. I feel good that the client base I’ve developed and that I’ve loved serving - housing co-ops - is in great hands.
With this week’s announcement, I can speak freely about what’s next for me.
I’m pleased I’ve been appointed to the Condominium Authority Tribunal. It’s a part-time gig mediating and adjudicating disputes between condo owners and between owners and their condos. I’m just in training now, but already see many of the same issues I’ve seen in non-profit and co-op housing - what I affectionally refer to as ‘the shit that happens when people live near each other.’ This is an online tribunal, a direction that many tribunals will be moving to so an excellent first appointment. Adjudication, you see, is for many an end in itself, irrespective of the subject matter, so once in, I could get similar positions.
My heart and my brain are in affordable housing though and I can now begin exploring other possibilities in the sector. In my time with the firm, I’ve developed a great love for education and public speaking and I hope to find a way to continue that work in particular.
Will I practise law again? I doubt it. Law’s a great tool, but I’m frustrated with its inability to resolve so many of the problems that need our attention. I’ll keep my licence on ice just in case, but my tendency is to move forward, without backward glances.
One thing I know for sure - writing will be a piece of my future. I can’t wait to find more time for blogging, contests, writing workshops, and completing and pitching for publication the manuscript I’ve worked on. If this also leads to more MAIDvocacy work, that would be great too.
Like all my other big shifts, I am exhilarated and terrified by this one. But the third act seems easier: I know the plot and the main character is more fully developed. This time the setting won’t change. Although I’m the star of my own play, I feel the depth of the supporting cast. I haven’t written the script yet, but I’m confident the first two acts provide enough material to work with.
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