For months I have written so much in my head and so little on paper, except scenes of my novel which will be rewritten until the original words are buried deep underneath.

In Lori Gottlieb’s excellent “Maybe You Should Talk to Someone,” a memoir of her experiences as a therapist, she pauses to recap Erik Erikson’s stages of psychosocial development. Erikson says in each stage of your life, you have a central struggle. In my stage, middle age, it’s generativity versus stagnation.

I had to stop reading because that one hit me so hard.

It wasn’t BECAUSE of my law school reunion, but it wasn’t NOT because of my law school reunion, that I’ve been having Career Thoughts. I’ve never been ambitious, exactly. I wanted people to listen to me but I didn’t care a lot about excessive money or power. (I do care about money. It brings me great comfort that in an emergency, I can focus on getting medical care or repairing the roof instead of worrying about how I’ll pay for it. But I don’t need, like, yacht money.)

So I worked for a big law firm, but hopped right off the partner track. Joined nonprofit boards and was quickly shoved into leadership positions, and spent the entire time succession planning so I could get someone else to take over. Was invited to lead a bar association committee after several years of subcommittee work, and said no thank you, I prefer not to. My brother says I’m the queen of getting into positions of power and prestige and then declining them.

It’s just, I have now been working for over twenty years and I have credentials and can make myself sound very impressive. I’m conscientious enough that when I sign up to do something, I do it well. But do I want to spend unpaid time thinking about data privacy or nonprofit administration? Turns out, no. I worried that made me lazy or unmotivated.

On a virtual walk with a friend who has risen up the law professor ranks, I told her how impressed I am by her scholarship and she said we all have a calling, or maybe she used the word passion; she said mine is my children. I poked at my ego, expecting it to be bruised. Instead I felt it resounding. I haven’t ruined my career because I’ve been spending time raising my children. I’ve been spending time raising my children because that is how I want to spend my time.

Hearing the same thing from partners at my old law firm would sound like an insult, but from her it sounded like a fact. Because I don’t think she sees it as a bad thing, or as mutually exclusive with being an excellent lawyer. It just is.

So I’m starting to feel at peace with my career. My five-year plan has shifted, and currently no longer includes being General Counsel or starting my own firm. My new five-year plan is to focus my energy on things that are personally meaningful and enjoyable. At my next law school reunion, I will congratulate all the judges and senators, and I’ll be wherever I am in my career.