After three and a half years of this, I was desperate. So I made a desperately reckless decision—I would go to law school. I knew that I was in no condition to do this, but my soul was dying. I needed to create a life. I showed up that first day in Philadelphia, terrified. I wasn’t sure if I would last the week. And my fears proved justified. In the coming months, the pain continued—I ended up in ER several times—as did the mind-numbing fatigue. More than once, on my walk to class, I sat on a bench and cried because I had no idea how I could make it there. How could I walk another half-mile, when each step felt like an impossible challenge? briantronic

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