Early in my law school career, I received some career advice from an older and supposedly wiser person in the profession. This man wasn’t just a lawyer, he was a judge. And the advice he gave me was, in retrospect, terrible.

He had worked in several different legal roles in his career, in private practice and in public service on a local level. He had been a judge for about a decade when I encountered him. So what was his advice for my career?

He said that if I was smart, I would take a job with the state government, where I’d earn $60,000 a year with benefits. I’d live a comfortable life with minimal stress and I’d never have to worry about clients or running a business.

$60,000 a year was more than each of my parents had made at the peak of their careers, so that kind of starting salary didn’t sound so bad to me at the time (mind you, it was quite a bit less than what I’d owe in student loans upon graduation). His advice also played well with the incredible imposter syndrome I felt as a first-generation college graduate in law school, not to mention the suboptimal self-worth and limiting mindset that hindered me at the time. To 24-year-old me, his advice seemed reasonable. I can see now that it was rubbish.

What this advice really meant was: Stay small. Stick with what’s easy and safe. Don’t take risks.

By the time I met His Honor, I was already near the top of my class in law school. I didn’t yet know what I wanted to do, but I had significant potential. Big opportunities would have been available to me had I pursued them. His advice had little to do with me and everything to do with his own beliefs.

I’m not going to name this man because I don’t want to embarrass him. I’m sure he genuinely wanted to be helpful and believed he was giving me good advice.

Was that advice colored by my gender and the fact that I was married? Possibly. The work-life balance discussion was everywhere when I was in law school, aimed almost exclusively at women in the profession. I frequently heard my women classmates talk dismissively about high-paying and prestigious jobs, convinced that those positions weren’t worth pursuing because the long hours would interfere with their not-yet-existing family obligations. I don’t recall many of them ever talking about the doors such positions might open for them or the good that could come from earning substantial salaries. (I’m not judging my classmates here; I fell prey to the same kind of thinking.)

I don’t know if the judge was thinking about my future children when he said I should just take a job with the state government. I suspect he may simply have thought that it was a less stressful and more secure path than other options within the legal profession. But choosing a job in order to avoid anticipated stress is not a good plan.

That is making decisions based on fear and avoidance. The far better option is to seek opportunities based on what you want rather than what you don’t want. And if such an opportunity doesn’t exist, create it!

A state government job may seem relatively secure, but it comes with its own risks, beyond the obvious financial downsides. I’m sure there are many state government lawyers who find their work fulfilling, meaningful, and rewarding, and in certain agencies or roles, I might have been among them. I am in no way knocking public service. However, if I were to toil away for years or decades in a job I accepted simply because it was easy and secure, all the while feeling bored, unchallenged, and unmotivated, I would run the very real risk of killing my spirit.

Life is about so much more than doing what we think is safe. When we glimpse a little spark inside of us, we have a responsibility to ourselves to feed it until we are harboring a burning desire to go after what we really want. We owe it to ourselves to think big and pursue our best lives, not just easy, okay lives. And since this runs counter to pervasive cultural narratives (especially for women), let me make one thing clear: it is perfectly alright if what you want involves glory, money, or both.

I wish I could say that I recognized His Honor’s advice for what it was and decided instead to go after big ambitions, but that’s not exactly what happened. After graduating second in my class, I took a job with a mid-size law firm where I was paid more than $60,000, but not as much as I could have made. I did so in part because of the firm’s stated commitment to being family-friendly. The work was fine, but I had no clear goals or vision beyond meeting my billable hours requirement each month.

Fortunately, I listened to the little voice within me that was telling me there had to be something more. I knew deep down that I was capable of big things. So I took a chance and applied for federal clerkships, and I got one. I loved it.

Then I took another firm job, knowing in my heart that the work wasn’t what I really wanted to do. I needed a job and I felt like it was my best option in the area. In other words, I made another decision based on fear. And then I complained a lot as it ate away at my spirit.

Thankfully, I got the opportunity to return to the clerkship role that I had so enjoyed. While I never expected it to be a long-term gig, it gave me a chance to figure out what I really wanted for my career and my life. That took a few years of reflection and investigation, but once my dream became clear, I committed to it.

So now, I am being brave. I am not choosing the easy, safe path. I’m leaving behind a steady paycheck and good benefits so that I can go after big things. I will gladly take on the challenges of obtaining clients and running a business so that I can create the career and life I want. (You can read about my next chapter here.)

My advice to law students? Make decisions based on hope rather than fear. Reject the either-or premise and think in terms of both–and. You don’t have to choose between life and work. You can love both your work and your personal life. You can have a big career and be a present and involved parent. You can do good in the world and make a lot of money. If you’re not excited about what you’re doing, do something else. Life is too short to play it safe and settle for a ho-hum existence.

And for goodness sake, be careful whose advice you take.