Multiple Personality Disorder

I've been having this strange experience the past few months here in the nation's capitol--I've felt, on a number of occasions since May, like I have been morphing into a person who is a stranger to the person I've always been. I don't think it's permanent, and it certainly only comes out on specific occasions, but it's unsettling because it's what I've said (and still feel) that I never want to become.

The summer experiences I've had while in law school have been diverse--from working in a refugee camp in a forgotten area of the world to working in the world's largest international law firm, I have spanned not only continents, but socio-economic, religious and law related spectrums. I left the refugee camp with the solid and sure sense that the experience would be one of many working with refugees in less savory parts of the world. I left with a deeper perspective about people, faith, suffering, desperation and joy. This past summer was also a learning experience, a perspective enhancing lesson in corporate America and world and presented struggles, like the refugee camp, that I had never confronted previously.

I've always maintained that I would step into corporate law for the amount of time it would take me to pay off loans and get some cushion in the bank--then I would waltz out and pursue a life that I would find fulfilling. But I have to say--being in this corporate, money soaked environment is like having a hook in you that isn't always noticeable, but that allows you to be dragged back in at a moments notice. And sometimes that world is alarmingly fun.

I felt myself being yanked back, most recently, this past Friday. A good friend and very senior associate at the firm and I had planned to get a drink that evening, most likely later in the night. Friday was one of those perfect full days--errands run, groceries purchased, banking done, house cleaning/laundry taken care of while a pot of Moroccan lentil soup simmered on the stove. My dear friend SG called after having a harried day and I invited her over for some soup and wine to unwind after being immersed in the gritty city. A little while later another good gal friend called. Soup's on the stove, wine's on the counter, come on over! Later CB, HB, and LH all made their way up 17th to my little apartment, all bearing wine, all wanting the company of friends and to just relax. At one point, as I opened my fridge and scoured for more cheese and crackers for this impromptu get together, I paused and was just kind of surveying the scene--it filled me with such great joy to have a home where people wanted to gather, to get away, to have some home cooked lovin' and just be comfortable. I, in my yoga pants and baggy t-shirt, was equally at home and it was just one of those good moments.

Having planned to meet up with the firm guy around 10:30, I hopped in the shower (leaving everyone in the living room), and transformed from yoga pants/t-shirt to high end city night life wear in less than 20 minutes. I gave SG my extra set of keys, put out some more cheese, gave kisses on cheeks and headed out of my apartment full of friends. This is where the transition begins.

Out of my warm, homey, friend filled apartment to a high end bar/lounge restaurant where everyone knows my friend the bill is never too high. 200 dollar bottles of wine, 60 dollar steak, the special duck pate (which is one of the places I had to draw the line) and just more and more and more. I realized, at the sight of the town car waiting for us outside, we would not be returning to my sanctuary anytime soon.

And I was right. The town car diligently waited outside the venues the firm friend took us to. When we left the first place, not having finished the second egregiously expensive wine, we simply emptied the decanter into our glasses, popped outside and into the hired car and drank it on the way. At each stop we would return to the car to have cold water waiting between the seats. It was one place after another until there wasn't anywhere else to go, and then the night was over.

The next day, as I stared at the blisters from the hot little shoes and nursed my hangover, I starting thinking about the decadence and frivolity that comes with the lifestyle I am walking into, at least temporarily. I find myself torn between having the ability to shake it off and balance the new with the old, and feeling like my ability to enjoy this extravagance has allowed me to misplace some of the conviction and perspective that I have held onto so strongly until now. I wonder if I should feel guilty about 500 dollar bar tabs never paid for by me, VIP rooms and table service at clubs. I'm definitely not looking for the answer here--It's just been on my mind.