measuring happiness when you're never happy

it's me, hi! i'm the problem

What’s behind the red curtain? Red Pavilion, an AAPI-owned dim sum restaurant that turns into a cabaret and nightclub after dark. They even have anime and video game music jazz nights!

I solicited potential new names for Ask Cece last month, and y’all definitely delivered! Major thanks to Jimmy for inspiring the new name of my advice column: Of Counsel, in which I dole out advice of all varieties—except for legal. (If you want legal advice for your creative business, you can contact me through Studio Legal LLP, my law firm. If you want tips for surviving biglaw or another intense corporate environment, check out my latest YouTube video. And if you want legal advice for other events in your life, try searching for [your city/county/state] legal aid or [your city/county/state] bar association legal services and checking out the comments on this video.)

Before we get to the actual question for today—about if I’m happier/more fulfilled post-biglaw—I need to share two articles I’ve devoted an embarrassingly large amount of brain space to:

• The “Bad Art Friend” may have been a bad friend but isn’t a copyright infringer. This controversial New York Times article took my Twitter (RIP) feed by storm in summer 2021, detailing the curious waterfall of snubs, slights, and eventually lawsuits wrought by Sonya Larson and Dawn Dorland Perry, two writers. (The TLDR is that Dawn donated a kidney and posted a letter to the recipient of her kidney in a private Facebook group, the letter was as cringe as one would expect an ostensibly-private-but-publicly-posted letter to be, Sonya was inspired by the letter to write a short story whose first few versions copied much of Dawn’s letter, and then Dawn sued Sonya for copyright infringement and Sonya sued Dawn for defamation and tortious interference with business relationships.) The saga is a cautionary tale of how humans use the judicial system to litigate complex emotional relationships, and more than two years after the NYT article shed light on this bizarre story—because yes, litigation takes a long freaking time—the trial court has rendered its decision. Sonya’s use of Dawn’s letter was “fair” under the fair use doctrine, and Dawn did not defame or tortiously interfere with Sonya. Basically, everyone loses—except for the lawyers and Robert Kolker.

• Julia Allison, early internet famous netizen in the 2000s, is engaged to con law scholar and HLS professor, Noah Feldman. One thing about law students is that they will always gossip about their professors. Always. Law professors resemble deities to law students, and what are deities for if not group dissection of group norms? Some people in my class had crushes on Feldman and his full head of hair; others avidly reported spotting him on dates around Cambridge with grad students. This NYT feature, then, is a surprise on two levels: first, the engagement itself (not a bad thing!); and second, the vaguely condescending statements made by Feldman about his betrothed (a bad thing, imo!). Among them:

  • “People I dated seriously [after my divorce], subsequently, were people of substance. Distinguished in their professions.” (Julia then stage whispers, “Serious people.”)

  • “Many of Julia’s friends have jobs I didn’t know existed until I met Julia. One is a fire dancer. She also has a friend named Purple—he only wears purple, and his métier is bodywork.”

  Don’t get me wrong—I am happy that Feldman has found love again, happy that he is engaging in activities out of his comfort zone like Burning Man, and happy that he is embracing a more carefree, fun-seeking side of himself. But I find it incredibly bizarre that he seems to view Julia as quirky and fun but ultimately unserious. She was one of the first “internet famous” of the aughts, completely transformed his interior decorating from “sad, beige house,” and started her master’s at the Harvard Kennedy School last month, for crying out loud! She clearly is capable of getting things done. Even if she performs an unserious manic pixie version of herself for the public, she still deserves her flowers—especially from her soon-to-be life partner. Feldman’s quotes perpetuate this notion that all influencers (who are mostly women, of course) are vapid. And for someone like Feldman, whose academic credentials exemplify the platonic ideal of Ivy League prestige, to hold such a narrow view of substance, competency, and seriousness of work—it’s frankly gross. (Full disclosure: I took Family Law with his ex, Professor Jeannie Suk Gersen, and enjoy her work a lot.)

are you happy now?

Can you talk about your level of happiness (or fulfillment) from your new entrepreneurial/writing journey versus your structured corporate environment? I think many of us are inspired by your transition, and many of us also fantasize about the "what if?" of following a passion. So for those of us who have not taken the jump, it would be interesting to hear you talk about this on a broader happiness part. Like, on a day to day basis, are you happier? And how do we evaluate that?  Alternatively, when we do go onto a new chapter, do we temporarily feel happier but then go back to our "set" happiness?  Or do you feel better - more purposeful or meaningful - on a daily basis that it does feel happier on a day to day basis?

- Jimmy

This is the million-dollar question, isn’t it? I think it’s necessary to first disaggregate happiness from fulfillment, because it’s entirely possible to be happy but not fulfilled (and vice versa). This is by no means a rigorous psychological or linguistic explanation of the two words, but here’s how I view it: Happiness is a question of mental health; it’s about feeling pleasure. Fulfillment is a question of progress and potential; it’s about satisfaction as you apply your abilities and talents towards your goals. Because our feeling of pleasure in our lives can often be tied to our progress towards goals, the two emotions are related but not identical.

I highlight this distinction because I am, by nature, a very dissatisfied person. Even when I experience major positive events, such as getting into a “dream school” or receiving offers for my book, I quickly forget about the positive feelings and return to feeling dissatisfied. I consider the positive event to be my new baseline and immediately start looking towards what comes next. My resting states of happiness and fulfillment are, as a result, quite low.

There are a lot of reasons for my low resting states of happiness and fulfillment—my upbringing-induced anxiety, anxiety, my anxiety about how I can’t achieve anything without anxiety. I am actively working on practicing—truly practicing, not a journal check-off list practicing—gratitude for what I have, love of who I am right now (and not who I am trying to become), and compassion for all that I (and others) cannot be. Which is all to say: While I am working on it, I am not happy with my writing and entrepreneurial journey—but I also wasn’t happy in a structured corporate environment. The problem was never my job; it was me.

I wasn’t fulfilled in my corporate job because I wasn’t yet equity partner (the goal); I wasn’t happy in my corporate job because I, well, wasn’t a happy person. And once I started learning more about what being an equity partner would mean, what the day-to-day of equity partnership would entail, I realized that I would likely never be fulfilled as an equity partner—because once I made equity partner (the original goal), I would become obsessed with a new goal (getting on the 40 under 40s list, becoming a rainmaker partner, then the rainmaker partner, then chair of the firm, so on and so forth).

Similarly, my current path is plagued with the same fulfillment mirages—markers that I view today as signs of having “made it” (a glowing review in Kirkus!), having succeeded (a NYT bestseller!), but which I know in my heart of hearts that (absent some serious self-work) I’ll quickly discard like all of my plastic trophies from high school. I see myself moving the markers of success each and every day—I see it and I hate it and I can’t stop it. (Yet. I’ve been doing some IFS therapy recently, and it’s been a helpful complement to CBT so I’m hopeful that I’ll sabotage myself less one day.)

So then, if my levels of happiness and fulfillment are unchanged, how do I know it was the right move to step away from the corporate world into the unknown realm of writing and entrepreneurship? Because as much as I can’t trust my own feelings of pleasure (happiness) or satisfaction (fulfillment), I can trust how much of a Really Jealous Bitch I am. And finding myself insanely jealous of writers and artists instead of my friends who became law firm partners told me all I needed to know.

I hope one day soon, I can bury my deep well of discontent with the aid of many books, friends, and therapy. Then maybe I could answer your question again, in a way that actually answers the question. (I’m sorry that my truth is such a cop-out!) But as it stands, I have immense difficulty finding joy in this world, so I can only evaluate the pursuit of happiness and fulfillment through the lens of jealousy.

Who knows—maybe in a few years, I will look at my sad library of shelved book projects and screenplays, my dwindling bank accounts, and feel immensely jealous of my law firm partner friends. And that will indicate to me that it’s time to pack up shop and try the corporate world again.

Or maybe—and I hope to god this is what happens—I’ll finally have a framework for measuring happiness and fulfillment in a world where many pursuits thrill me, and I’ll be able to tackle this question once again. ◆

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