Stephanie grew up wanting to be a psychologist, but decided to pursue law when she was 17 after people kept telling her she argued way too much. She was called to the Singapore Bar in January 2017 and qualified as a solicitor in the United Kingdom in April 2020. She is halfway through her fifth year of practice.

This letter is addressed to Stephanie’s younger self, on the day she received the results from her first semester at university.

Hi You,

I haven’t thought of you in a while. I wonder how you are.

It’s just after the first semester of university. You just got back your contract law results. You failed. You will stare at those results in dismay. You rationalise: you hated the professor anyway. You will see your friends around you get stellar results – some of them have already started preparing to apply for summer internships back home in Singapore.

It’s okay, You. After all, you were battling not just with law school, but with the experience of leaving everything you’ve ever known in Singapore and moving to a new country. Everything is new to you, the culture, the food, the language… Why do these people keep asking you if you’ve already had dinner? It’s hardly two p.m.!

Just you wait. Three years in uni will zoom past without you realizing. You won’t remember much of the tests, the exams, the course materials – although thankfully you manage to graduate with reasonable honours. You would have instead forged unforgettable memories. There will be dull times holed up in the library, nose in a book. There will be crazy times, weekend trips to far-away European cities. You will take it all in and immerse yourself in the moment.

And then you will be brought crashing back to the reality they call life. An email comes in: a firm is “pleased to offer you a training contract”. Over the moon, you tell everyone, and you stop applying to other firms. Then you will get home and visit the firm in person. The partner tells you that this was a misunderstanding – you didn’t actually get a traineeship. This was a formal interview and you had failed. Why? Because you made the mistake of leaving your sunglasses on your head when you walked in.

You go home and cry to your mother. You wonder how you could have been so stupid!

You will get a start somewhere eventually. It is not easy, and the learning curve starts at a 90-degree angle. You will be pushed to your limits. You will be called many names. You will be disrespected and shamed. You will sit in the toilet and cry many times.

What will bring you joy is helping your clients. When a young female client comes back to the office, grabs your hand, and tells you how grateful she was for your calming presence throughout her matter, it keeps you going. You tell yourself that litigation is what you are meant to do. You feel amazing every time you get something right and a client is satisfied. It doesn’t matter that the environment is hard. The work continues to challenge you, and you want to do right by your clients. You are blessed with wonderful colleagues around you who share in the pain and do their best to encourage you.

But no place feels truly right. Firm after firm, you will tell yourself that the next one will be different. That the next one will be the one you stay at for many years. You will build up a wall of resilience, because at this point it is the only thing that keeps you from falling apart. You continue to prioritise your clients and your work. Litigation is life. Your heart soars when you win a case. A smug smile creeps over your face when you find a hole in your opposing counsel’s argument and you punch your fist through it. Litigation is life.

Another three years will fly by.

One day, you stop and ask yourself whether this is what you want to be doing in life. You love it, but the stress and pressure are taking a huge toll on your psyche. You decide that, maybe, it is time for a change.

You leave your job and fly back to the UK to get qualified there. It is a tough journey, but so very worth it. You are once again directionless in life, but you are taking steps to change your fate. You will fly back to Singapore with a fresh outlook on life.

And then a global pandemic happens. Great.

But see, life finally throws you a bone. A global American bank takes interest in your resumé. They don’t care that you don’t have the right experience. You have never thought about banking as a career, but you figure this might be the opportunity you were looking for. Your new boss is a godsend, breaking into pieces your pre-conceived notions of what a boss is. He is kind, patient, and recognises something in you that you couldn’t even see.

You will spend the next year building your knowledge and expertise in consumer banking laws and regulations. You will love the challenges that come with it. You had never thought you would end up in a corporate position. After all, litigation is life – was life. But somehow, you managed to find something even better. The stress and pressure still exist, but so are the thrills, excitement, and the sense of achievement you get when you assist in yet another important venture. You finally found a place where you’re happy to stay.

The truth is – you will not regret anything that has happened to you in the seven years since you graduated. You will not regret any of your jobs, nor any of your positions, because you will learn so much from every opportunity. You will learn how to be resourceful, and how to find the answers when no one else was willing to give them to you. You will learn skills that your peers will be sheltered from. They will come to you for the answers. You will learn that it is okay to let go of a career path you worked so hard for. It doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you succeeded differently.

And seven years later, you will sit in front of your laptop and muse about the road that brought you here. Your still-developing career has been colourful so far, and it was nothing like you would have imagined.

Remember this, You: Don’t waste time comparing yourself to others. You only have yourself to answer to.

And you have much to be thankful for.

With all the love,

Me.