Showing up

"Be messy and complicated and afraid and show up anyway."   --Glennon Doyle

I lost a trial a few years ago that I shouldn't have lost.  My team was better than opposing counsel, the evidence came in better than we hoped, we managed the surprises with grace and skill, and everyone performed well.  The jury was out for four hours, came back and poured us out.  We lost every claim.  Years worth of work, worst possible result.  I was pregnant, I couldn't drink.  Ebola was gripping the nation.  I had zero desire to show my face in the office.  I went home dejected, emotional and nauseous.  That's not really the important part of the story.

I love my job.  I hate losing.  I know rationally that even the best lawyers lose some cases, and that one loss doesn't reflect an attorney's talent.  But it still sucks, and of course perfectionists aren't the most graceful losers.

I've struggled at certain points of my life with depression.  Of varying degrees.  Sometimes the variety that makes you just want to sleep, and never get out of bed.  Losing a case probably wouldn't start me down a path of mental instability, but I know that path and the numbness and shame that lines it.  

When I was in college, I experienced a loss that resulted in my first serious bout of depression.  I listened to a lot of sad songs, hibernated in my tiny room, and withdrew.  I slept a lot.  I quit going to classes and just suffered.  I felt alone, but in the real world, I had good friends.  One in particular came to my apartment every day, suggested I come out for at least a little walk, let me talk (or not).  Sometimes brought soup.  Almost every day.

I remember how sad and numb I was, but mostly I remember the kindness of that friend.  And the simplicity of that act.  To show up every day, to make me show up, if only a little.  Now that I am older, I know that simple thing was not a small thing--daily consistency and commitment is a huge deal for any person to provide.  I can't even commit to washing my hair every day.  

But since then, when I get bummed out or embarassed, angry or ashamed, I remember how I learned to feel because of her.  Even at my worst, lowest, most crazy and lost, someone just took me for a walk and wanted to be my friend.  She didn't ask a lot of me, she even occasionally took no for an answer when I didn't want to leave the house.  But she reminded me that it was good to be seen, whether you were at your best or not.

So I lost that trial, and I was bummed for a couple of weeks afterward.  But I got up and came to work the next day anyway.  Because sometimes you lose, and your tribe--personal or professional--loves you anyway.  Sometimes it's easier to lose together.  But I show up now, whether I think I can be of any use or not.  I take a day off where I need it, don't get me wrong.  But I have learned that if you keep showing up, things don't always look like you thought they did in the end.  

We got that trial turned around and won the second time, for instance.  But more importantly,  I came to work the next day just to show up.  I learned one of my most important lessons on how to be human, how to be a friend, and how to slowly but surely will my demons away from a friend who just insisted on showing up.  You don't have to always be happy or useful, or have anything figured out.  Sometimes it's enough just to be there.