The Myth of No Bad Days

By Nicole Ligon

By all outward measures, things have gone “right” in my life. I’m happily married to my best friend, and we share two wonderful children. I hold a tenure-track law professor position at Campbell Law School  – it’s my dream job, and the community here has warmly supported my growth as both a scholar and a teacher. Before that, I earned my J.D. from Duke Law School, served as an editor of the law review, practiced at a big law firm, and now count some of the world’s most generous, brilliant mentors among my greatest blessings. My CV reflects awards, publications, and invited talks. And yet, despite all of this, I often feel like I fooled everyone to get here.

There’s a persistent tension between how I appear to the world and how I feel inside. I spend so much time wondering how I came to be where I am that when something doesn’t go my way, I cling to it as confirmation of my self-doubt. Strangely, I never do the opposite. I don’t cling to accomplishments. I don’t let success reassure me. If anything, I explain it away: a fluke, luck, a clerical error, someone being kind.

The result is a constant drive to prove myself to myself. And it’s exhausting. I want to be an A+ mom, an A+ professor, an A+ colleague and friend. I rarely feel I’m succeeding in all categories. The pressure is entirely self-imposed, but it’s fueled by a quiet certainty: I know I’m smart. I know I’m capable. I’m a lawyer, after all, so I can argue a convincing case for my own merit. But doing so makes me squirm. I can build the argument; I just can’t quite buy it.

This tension follows me even into the classroom, where I otherwise feel at home. I love teaching. Engaging with students, legal doctrine, and theory brings me real joy. But sometimes, mid-discussion, I’ll suddenly become aware of where I am – standing in front of fifty-plus students, trusted to guide them through complex ideas – and I’ll panic, just for a moment. Then I pick up the thread and keep going. No one notices. At least, I don’t think they do.

I mention this because I recently read a student evaluation that said I “never seem to have a bad day.” I laughed out loud. I’ve had so many bad days. I’ve taught classes with vomit in my hair after a sleepless night with a sick child. I’ve taught while miscarrying a pregnancy. I’ve walked into class shaken from an argument with a loved one, rattled by traffic, or just having one of “those days.”

But law teaches us to keep going. We’re trained to set emotions aside. When you stand up in court, your client comes first. It doesn’t matter what kind of morning you’ve had – you have to show up. You have to perform.

So sometimes I perform. I smile. I “fake it.” And I believe there’s value in modeling that resilience to students. But there’s also value in letting them see the fuller picture: that not everything is always as it seems. That the person who “never has a bad day” might sometimes be holding it together by a thread. That you can love what you do and still struggle with whether you deserve to be doing it.

This isn’t a confession or a cry for help. I love my life and feel deeply grateful to be where I am. But it’s a reminder that we don’t owe each other perfection. We owe each other honesty and grace. Even when the student, the colleague, or the professor seems like they have it all together.

Because sometimes, they do. And sometimes, they’re just really good at pretending. But maybe, when we’re honest about what’s hard, we make it a little easier for the next person to keep going, too.

Nicole Ligon is an Assistant Professor of Law at Campbell University School of Law, where she teaches First Amendment law, Professional Responsibility, and Trial Advocacy. She is licensed to practice law in North Carolina, New York, and is inactive in South Carolina.