Halfway

On vocation, uncertainty, and learning to walk without guarantees

Coming to your inboxes a little late this Friday because as of 10:15 pm last night I am officially . . . halfway finished with law school.

I know what you’re thinking: who is this girl? She’s in law school? Why? She’s not some trad Catholic girl just writing aesthetic reflections? Why did I subscribe to this Substack? It’s super random and inconsistent and filled with the thoughts of a girl who doesn’t seem to have it together . . .

Well, you’re right. At least partially. I know I started this substack with the goal of publishing weekly letters; I know I wanted to write long-form essays on topics that media outlets wouldn’t let me publish anywhere else; I know you probably are a total stranger and either found me on Instagram or on Alden’s page . . .

If any of those things are true: hi, hello, I’m Merlot. I moved to D.C. in the summer of 2024 after graduating from Notre Dame. I came here to start law school at CUA while working full-time as a legal assistant. Then, at first, I thought law school was pretty manageable, and somewhat interesting, and I hated my job, so I quit that October and started working as a part-time nanny so I could take more credits (and still afford to live here).

Then I met this BOY. And we became really good friends. And I started getting scared again because every “guy friend” in the past had backfired on me. So I tried to push him away. But come finals time last fall, he decided to sit me down and explain how we were meant to be more than just friends — that we could open up to each other and trust each other in a way neither of us had before. And he was definitely my best friend. I was just in denial.

But he convinced me, and we started dating. And we fell in love!! And law school really only became appealing because it was something we did together. And even more importantly, I was sensing the reality that I was actually finally in a serious relationship that was heading towards marriage, and I had spent years ignoring my health and well-being, and knew that wasn’t something he (or I) deserved.

So I started fighting for answers. And it turns out, I had stage 4 chronic endometriosis, a disease where endometrial tissue grows outside the uterus that causes all sorts of hormonal issues and symptoms — but also that affects your fertility.

So I got it lasered out in July! Then I got engaged! Then year two of law school started!

Then I spent three months recovering, only to find out I also have some other conditions . . . ones that can’t really be solved with lasers; ones that require strict dedication to avoiding foods and environmental factors that disrupt endocrine and reproductive systems; ones that will probably still make it hard for me to be a mama one day.

But that hasn’t stopped me. I’m still in law school (woo hoo?) I’ve started writing about my experience learning about chronic reproductive conditions and why it’s so hard to find real care within the healthcare system. I’ve started trying to find ways to combine the two worlds of law and medicine and use both the blessings and hardships that God has offered me to effect change.

And through all of this, I’ve learned a whole hecking lot. A lot about love, a lot about sacrifice, a lot about grace. My heart has been opened to a new kind of love that I didn’t know was possible growing up. Not a perfect love, but a consistent one. A love that isn’t based on feelings, but on commitment to a common good — both within my relationship with my fiancé, and in my relationship with myself. A love based on hope, trust, and the pursuit of an authentic life well-lived.

I spent years pushing down grief and anxiety and despair. I tried to hide the way I was feeling with my output and achievements. Because high-achieving women aren’t depressed, right? (😅) But that wasn’t sustainable. Because true love requires rawness, even when it really, really hurts.

Through all of this, I’ve realized that I’m not just some teenage girl anymore who needs to look to the influencers or older generation to tell me what to do. I’m taking on whole new battles and a whole new reality from the people I used to let dictate my hopes and dreams.

I’m in law school not because my mom did it or because Notre Dame said I should go, but because God opened a window for me to learn more about justice, because he wanted me to learn how to persevere through not-so-fun experiences, and because he wanted me to meet my future husband. It might not be right for me in the future, but it’s where I’m supposed to be right now.

I’m getting married not because I’m afraid to be alone or because all the Catholics are getting married young, but because I’ve been incredibly blessed to find someone who looks at me with admiration for the smallest deeds and who holds my hand when I feel like everything is crumbling; because I know that the trust I give to God in accepting the promise to love someone for life is going to bestow upon us graces that we will never be able to understand, but that will allow us to pursue holiness together, whether or not we become parents.

I’m focusing on my health, not because I’m broken or not cut out to be a mom, but because God graced me with the strength and willpower to fight: for answers, for care, for discipline, and for my vocation. Because my story is helping others fight for authentic treatment — and because everything I’ve learned is too important to keep to myself.

I’m writing this here for you today, not because everyone has a Substack or I’m some important influencer, but because I truly feel that there are some things I’ve experienced that can’t be processed or explained in the ordinary way. Rather, using the world as a sounding board for my wild hopes and dreams is the best way to hold me accountable and keep me grounded. Because it’s out there forever. And I have to stand by what I say. No backing out. I’ve done the activist thing, I’ve done the journalism thing, but the consistent, straight-from-my-life-to-your-inbox thing is a new endeavor.

So today, I’m officially halfway. Halfway out of law school, out of D.C., out of the season I’ve been living in since I graduated. This post-grad life has brought a million new challenges, a million new fears, and a million new blessings. The year of 2026 is around the corner — the year I’ll finish 2L, the year I’ll get married, the year I’ll move again, the year big decisions will need to be made. I’m not finished — with law school, with healing, with developing my heart to accept whatever is in store. But I see these small finish lines now, finish lines I didn’t really imagine for myself even just a year ago. And while some parts of me want to give up on the life of doing 15 things at once, the other parts of me know that this is where I thrive.

I don’t know exactly where this path leads — whether law becomes a career, a hobby, or a season I leave behind. I don’t know what motherhood will look like for me. I don’t know what trials marriage will bring. But I want to share it. I want to share it all because I’m done disappearing between chapters. This space isn’t about having it together — it’s about staying present while life unfolds. This is me, walking forward without guarantees, trusting that the same God who brought me here will keep directing me on the right path.

Life only makes sense when it’s lived honestly — and honesty requires witness. This is me, halfway through law school, halfway through healing, standing at the edge of a life I didn’t plan but am choosing anyway. If you’re here, you’re not here for a perfectly curated answer. You’re here for the process. And so am I.

Thanks for reading.

Love,

Merlot