Why I Left Law School

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After about the fiftieth person asked me why I left law school, I resolved to write up my reasons (and reflections in hindsight) one day, print copies, and keep them on me at all times to hand out like business cards. I’m only half joking.

This post has been sitting in my drafts box for three years. My three-year-long hesitance to publish it stemmed from a variety of reasons, but the primary reason was fear of man—fear that I might come off the wrong way, unintentionally offend, etc. But if there’s anything I’ve learned since leaving law school, it’s that I’ve let the opinion of others have much too tight a grip on my life. Quitting law school was a huge step towards loosening that grip and taking back autonomy over my own life and happiness, and I like to think I’ve made slow but sure progress since then, mainly by doing things that fly in the face of my cautious, people-pleasing instincts (like publishing this post). So here goes.

I went into college not knowing what I really wanted to do and hoping four years in New York City would help me figure it out. Three years (and multiple internships in various fields) later, I still didn’t know. I wish someone had told me that’s okay and normal, and that I should just take an entry level job and get paid to figure that out rather than taking out graduate student loans (lol). Having grown up under very loving but typical Asian American parents (and having peaked in my math and science abilities in high school), I thought the only viable career path left for me was law despite having no idea what being a lawyer entailed other than bragging rights for my parents and job security (at least a false sense thereof). The summer after my junior year, my parents asked me to apply to law school as a backup post-graduation plan, so I crammed for the LSAT the fall of senior year, got a decent score, and applied. I was good at reading, writing, and arguing and had the B.A. in philosophy (and siblings whom I’d argued with all my life) to prove it, so (without any prior legal experience) decided that a legal career would be a good fit for me.

I was wrong. Despite receiving a generous scholarship and decent grades, I was miserable in law school, and the more I talked to practicing lawyers in various stages of their careers (tip: do this before you take out loans for grad school y’all), I realized a legal career is something you really have to be passionate about to stay in, whether you’re making pennies as a public defender or getting a fat paycheck as a big law associate. Law school is a huge investment, mentally, emotionally, financially, and temporally, and things don’t necessarily change once you graduate. There’s a reason why law is the only field with an industry devoted to helping people quit.

I don’t write this to dissuade anyone from pursuing a career in law or a similar white collar profession. If that is your passion, go for it (but do look into ways to minimize your debt). Even if it’s not your passion, but you have your own reasons for pursuing a more traditional career, I think that is noble. I have many friends and family members who dutifully grind it out in corporate America to put food on the table for their family and don’t need their job to be more than just that, a job, a means to an end.

But if you’re built like me and need a career that gives you more, that fuels your passion, that provides work/life balance, cultivates creativity—whatever those priorities are—tune into that voice because everything else is white noise. The approval, respect, and prestige that comes with a shiny job title might be nice for a time, but you are the one that has to trudge to work day in and day out and spend most of your waking life doing something that makes you miserable.

I really can’t emphasize how much God had to work in my heart and undo a lifetime of people-pleasing habits and instincts to bring me to the point of finally pulling the trigger and quitting law school. There was also a lot of guilt, guilt that I was throwing the sacrifice of my immigrant parents in their face by rejecting their version of the American dream for me, that I was being a typical Millennial wanting too much out of a job. I am ashamed to admit how much of my self worth was tied up in my accomplishments and my pedigree, how long it took me to find my primary identity and self worth in being God’s beloved daughter.

I didn’t just leave law school. I left behind my need for validation from people who don’t actually matter to me. I left behind the traditional definition of success for one that is more holistic and includes, rather than makes a casualty of, my own happiness, creative fulfillment, and autonomy.

Three years later, I can say it’s one of the best decisions I’ve made. Quitting law school provided me the opportunity to explore more seriously the creative interests I had relegated to hobbies for most of my life. I took on an editorial job to make ends meet while I reawakened my love of art, graphic design, and working with my hands. Through a lot of hustle and God’s gracious provision, I built a stationery and design business that allows me to experience creative fulfillment every day while also paying the bills. I was able to go full-time with the business a year out of law school, and it’s what I’ve been doing since. Don’t get me wrong, you have to be ready to work 3x as hard as you did at your previous job to pull off a career change, especially if you’re starting a business from scratch. But I can say for a fact that the extra time and effort aren’t such a drag when you’re passionate about what you do.

Wherever you are in your career journey, I hope you take a moment today to be honest about why you are pursuing your current career and recalibrate your heart motives if necessary. If you are in a season of reassessment and doubt, I hope you can take a moment to take honest inventory of your strengths and weaknesses, figure out what you value most in a job but also be realistic, understanding your priorities and their corresponding trade offs before taking next steps. Work is a gift from God, but as with all great gifts, it’s so easy to make a good thing an ultimate thing. So more than anything, I hope this post reminds you that your primary identity and source of worth is not in your job title but as a beloved child of God. 

“I know that there is nothing better for people than to be happy and to do good while they live. That each of them may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all their toil—this is the gift of God.” Ecclesiastes 3:12-13