Trauma and Lawyers’ Mental Health: July 2019

Wednesday, July 31, 2019

Encouraging People To Seek Help Vs. Ensuring Proper Supports Are Actually In Place

A lot of the messaging around lawyers' mental health is directed towards those who may be experiencing a mental health challenge: "Reach out! Supports are there! You can do it!"

I think this is important and laudable but more needs to happen. It isn't enough to encourage people to seek help. We also have to do the work to ensure that proper supports are actually in place when they do. This starts by attending to the fears and concerns that may be holding people back, and asking ourselves whether there might be some validity to some of them. There might be some aspects of our culture that need to be changed before the help that we tell people is there is actually meaningfully available to them.

If we are to have any hope of accomplishing this, in my view, we need to acknowledge that the process will sometimes be quite difficult, both for the people who may need the support and for the profession that seeks to revise its culture so as to adequately provide it. Properly attending to the mental health needs of ourselves, our colleagues, and our professional culture will require careful planning and self-examination. It isn't just a feel good exercise in telling people we care and cheerily encouraging them to cast aside their misguided fears and step into the arms of a profession that is eager to embrace and support them (although I'm in no way mocking or diminishing these messages--they too are important as outreach and also play a key role in changing the culture).

In particular, as I have written before, it will require an exercise in listening: with the goal of undertaking a painstaking exploration of the complexity and diversity of our colleagues' backgrounds, needs, and potential challenges; the systemic flaws in our existing culture; and the barriers that stand in the way of some people seeking help. It is an exercise that requires significant thought, effort, attention and care. We need to be open to the possibility that sometimes with the way things currently are, the support that should be there isn't, the stigma that shouldn't exist is still all too prevalent, and the onus is on us as a profession to undertake the difficult task of ensuring meaningful change before our colleagues can feel safe coming forward to access our help and support.

Ultimately my point is that if we are directing all our attention towards the people who are suffering and putting the onus on them to take the steps that are necessary to get help, while assuming that any failure on their part to successfully do so must just be another sign of their sickness and inability to accurately assess the available supports, then we are failing. Yes, many people who reach out to those around them and access existing supports will have a very positive experience and will recover without incident, and we need to reach out to those people and encourage them to access those supports. I therefore absolutely agree that overcoming people's resistance to reaching out and accessing available supports is a really important step and will help a great many people. But we are fooling ourselves, to the detriment of those who suffer, if we don't acknowledge that sometimes it won't be that easy. Sometimes the barriers, anxieties and fears that people perceive as standing in the way of getting help are unfortunately well-grounded in reality. We don't do them any favours by ignoring or minimizing these very real obstacles. In fact, from my perspective, such unnuanced outreach efforts can sometimes have a gaslighting feel (albeit unintentionally).

When we send the message telling our colleagues to reach out and seek support, in my opinion, we therefore need to ensure that the message has two prongs (1) Reach out! Supports are there! You can do it!; and (2) We are here to learn from you what your concerns are! We are open to acknowledging their validity and making changes to our culture when the challenges are as real as you feel they are!. Or in other words, we acknowledge that we don't live in a perfect world. Some barriers are real. Some aspects of our culture are genuinely problematic and we all commit to engaging in the long slow difficult work of changing and adapting so that everyone who reaches out will be meaningfully supported, not just those who are fortunate enough to already be surrounded by the right kinds of supports for their needs.

Again, I'm all about raising questions and discussion points, rather than the answers, but here are some places I feel we need to start:

Given the prevalence of trauma in our society and its role in increasing our vulnerability to a number of mental health issues (e.g., PTSD, complex PTSD, vicarious trauma, depression, anxiety, substance abuse), we need to put the effort in to ensure that our professional culture and available mental health messaging and resources are trauma-informed;
We need to also actively take steps to ensure that our messaging and available resources are culturally sensitive and culturally appropriate so that all members and potential members of the profession can benefit;
We need to make sure that supports are accessible to everyone regardless of such factors as disability and geography;
We need to ensure that outreach is directed not just to those who may be suffering but also to the profession as a whole. We need to teach people not only how to reach out for help but also how to help (or at least not harm) colleagues or employees when they step forward and identify as being affected by a mental health issue. In this regard, the aim would be to ensure that when people do reach out (as we often encourage them to) they actually are received with compassion and genuine support, not just further stigma and/or awkward silence;
We need to practice the art of listening and learning, so that we can better understand what works and what doesn't, and constantly improve the supports that are available, rather than just assuming they are adequate and the problem lies with the unwillingness or inability of those who are suffering to do their part in reaching out for help; and
We need to actually learn and teach each other about the realities of mental illness, so that we can better understand the challenges facing those who suffer rather than just make assumptions. Even if our professional culture is perfect, there will still be obstacles for some who seek treatment since medical and mental health sciences do not have a perfect answer for every circumstance. Properly supporting such people will require some degree of understanding of the scope and limitations of the available treatments. Even with adequate support, it will sometimes be very difficult, and solutions may not be obvious. People facing complex mental health challenges will sometimes have tough decisions to make about their treatment and don't need easy answers from those who may not understand. We can't properly empathize with and support each other if we aren't prepared to hear about this, acknowledge the complexities of more difficult health challenges, and learn from the struggles of those facing them.

It won't be easy. Much like all issues relating to inclusion, equality, diversity, accessibility, it requires ongoing care, hard work and humility on all our parts, not just on the part of those most directly affected, if we want to accomplish real change.

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Saturday, July 27, 2019

To Those Who May Be Struggling...

Hi there:

I'm Crystal, and I've been a lawyer since 2005.

I don't know who you are, but if you're reading this, perhaps it's because you're struggling. Maybe a little bit or maybe a lot.

Maybe you're a brand new lawyer, feeling super excited about the career that lies ahead of you, but afraid that you won't know how to cope with all the stress and worried that if you show your true self or reveal your fears and limitations, you will be judged as too different, vulnerable or inadequate. Or perhaps you've been at this a long time, and always felt confident and virtually invulnerable before, but now the strain of all the conflict and trauma you've been exposed to over the years is beginning to eat away at you and you don't really recognize yourself anymore. Or maybe you're just starting to think about the possibility of going to law school, but you've already had such a difficult start in life. You're working so hard just to keep afloat and are not really sure if you can manage the pressures of such a difficult profession or if you can fit in with people who have enjoyed so many more privileges in life than you have.

With respect to trauma in particular (the subject of this blog), maybe you're one of the many people who have personally experienced a traumatic event, and maybe it has continued to affect you long afterwards despite your desire to just get over it. Or perhaps you feel you already did move past it but can't understand why it is suddenly affecting you again. Or, instead of one traumatic event that stands out for you, you may have a history of many such experiences, possibly starting from early in life, which made you very vulnerable to experiencing further trauma later on. Or maybe you experienced trauma during law school or after joining the profession (perhaps even at the hands of a classmate or a colleague). Or maybe you haven't personally experienced a traumatic event, but have been deeply affected by the trauma your family members or culture have had to endure. You may also have been traumatized by discrimination, e.g., as a result of gender, race, disability, sexual orientation, and/or poverty. Or maybe you had every advantage in life and experienced little if any trauma prior to becoming a lawyer, but your worldview and sense of safety have been shaken by the incredible trauma to which you have been exposed through your work and you're not sure how to handle it.

Whatever your personal circumstances, perhaps you are fortunate enough to have some helpful sources of support available for you to draw on when you need them. Or, unfortunately, maybe you've tried to reach out before but were further traumatized by the unhelpful responses of those you thought you could trust. Or perhaps you are only now beginning to realize the impact on you of what you've experienced and you're not sure where to turn. Maybe you are actively in the process of seeking help or still at the stage where you feel too afraid or confused to do so.

Whoever you are, I have to admit that I'm really scared to address you directly in this way. I don't know exactly what you're dealing with and I have no mental health expertise to guide you. I don't want to say the wrong thing, or inadvertently make things harder for you in any way. I have no answers, but as your colleague or future colleague, I do care. I want you to get the help and support that you need, whatever that may be, although I know that it's not always easy and it may feel like there are many obstacles in your way. Sometimes it might feel like no one else could understand your history, your challenges and your fears. I can certainly understand why you might feel that way.

People with expertise in addressing these issues do exist, and I encourage you to seek them out, and then reach out for help in whatever way you can. At some point, I may post a list of suggested resources, but I have so far hesitated to do so, because I am very aware of my lack of expertise and don't want to send someone in the wrong direction or fail to include a resource that could really help. That having been said, I think I will try to post such a list of possible resources at some point just to get people started, but not until I've had some time to do a bit of further research. In that regard, I would welcome suggestions from anyone who may know more about this than I do...

While I can't give mental health advice, I can tell you that you aren't alone and the fact that you may be struggling does not invalidate the contributions you have made or will make to the profession. I've been around long enough to know that many people struggle among us and sometimes feel alone, maybe not in the exact same way as you, but in their own unique ways, often resulting in them doubting and questioning themselves as you may be doing. My hope is that we can find ways to better support each other in the midst of these challenges. Struggles are inevitable in life and in our profession in particular, but we can minimize their impact (e.g., by eliminating the needlessly harsh aspects of the profession) and make it easier for each other to recover when things get bad (e.g., by providing better supports). My view is that a culture shift is needed, and I'm really hoping that we can start a discussion that moves in that direction.

I don't have any perfect solutions (although I have some thoughts and opinions for whatever that's worth), but I want you to know that there is room for you to excel in our profession if that's what feels healthy and right for you. In my view, the legal profession needs the voices of people like you, who know what it's like to face and overcome adversity in various ways. So if there's anything that can be done to improve your chances of thriving as a lawyer without having to sacrifice your health and happiness in the process, I hope we can collectively work at improving our professional culture to best make that happen.

So here's what I'm hoping. I'm hoping we can all start to talk about this more often, and that we can turn our minds to creating a professional culture that allows everyone to feel as comfortable as possible participating in such a discussion. If there's something we can do to better support and connect with each other, I want us to do whatever we can to help make that happen. It's definitely not something I have the power to do on my own, but after nearly a decade and a half as a lawyer I'm finally speaking up and trying to do my part to help change the culture and brainstorm solutions in whatever way I can.

Anyway, I don't know who you are, but I'm happy that you're here. If you decide that this path is still right for you, I have every confidence that you will help make the profession a better place through the amazing contributions you are undoubtedly very capable of making. I just don't want it to have to happen at the expense of your health and well-being.

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

In Defence of Trigger Warnings

Note: I wrote this post on a different platform (with almost no readers) upon reviewing the following article, which really upset me when I read it (https://www.insidehighered.com/news/2019/03/21/new-study-says-trigger-warnings-are-useless-does-mean-they-should-be-abandoned ). I am moving it here (with some edits) because it fits this topic somewhat, although it isn't directly about the legal profession (it is about higher education). In the context of the legal profession, some of the same considerations could apply not only to trigger warnings (e.g., in law school) but also to any gentle measure that could be accused of being "coddling" or overly accommodating or whatever...

The utility of trigger warnings has come under fire recently. The study in the above-referenced article apparently purports to show that trigger warnings are effectively useless in reducing the psychological distress that may be experienced by those who are exposed to traumatic material. It bothered me, so I felt the need to write my own non-expert thoughts about it.

A few caveats: (1) I'm not someone who avoids difficult and traumatic content. In fact, I am constantly exposed to such material as part of my career. I have never declined to hear something as a result of a trigger warning; (2) I didn't actually read the study, so I'm engaging more with the implications of how it's being presented and reported; and (3) I know very little about the science of psychology so I'm by no means an expert on any of this.

So, with those caveats in mind, here is my brief rant about why trigger warnings may still be not only good, but also incredibly meaningful, despite the supposed absence of an immediately measurable reduction in distress:

Communicative Function: For many traumatic experiences (especially many interpersonal traumas), a huge part of the harm caused is the sense of shame and stigma that accompanies the experiences, something you are not allowed to talk about, something that renders your experiences invisible. Even if trigger warnings don't actually eliminate or reduce the impact of the traumatic material in an immediately measurable way, I am not convinced that they don't serve a benefit in effectively telling the many survivors of trauma who may be listening that their suffering and vulnerabilities are being considered and cared about. Basically, it tells survivors "you are not alone in this" and "you are not invisible." Even if this doesn't reduce the immediate harm, I refuse to believe that this serves no purpose in promoting long-term healing. Perhaps it may not be a measurable benefit within any particular time frame. Perhaps on its own it may not even make much of a difference, but it is a measure that works towards creating a more trauma-informed world that acknowledges that survivors of trauma walk among us (at various stages of recovery) and may have unique concerns and vulnerabilities that deserve to be taken into account.
Exercising-Kindness-and-Compassion Function: anything that helps remind not only those who may have suffered from trauma but also the other people in the room of the need for thoughtfulness and sensitivity in relation to difficult subject matter is a good thing in my view. Whether it's a trigger warning or something else, some sort of reminder that we all come from different backgrounds and some of us may very well be personally affected by difficult content is an important signal to the entire group to exercise kindness, compassion and sensitivity when addressing those topics. It doesn't mean censoring anyone's viewpoints but just prompting people to consider whether the manner in which they express their views might impact others. If we want a kinder profession and more compassionate world, then we need to take every opportunity to promote and practice empathy, whenever possible, in my view.
Autonomy-Promoting Function: Far from being infantalizing (or "coddling"), in my opinion such warnings can be empowering. They provide the audience with information that equips members to make their own autonomous choices about how to proceed in view of their own understanding of their educational goals and well-being. This tells survivors that we trust them to make decisions about their own health and wellness. If there is more information relevant to that decision (e.g., that avoidance of such materials tends to impair rather than promote healing), then the non-infantilizing way to address the issue would be to also equip people with this information and give them the freedom to make a choice (where feasible given the educational objectives at play), not deprive them of the choice in the first place for paternalistic reasons. Moreover, the suggestion that such warnings should be discarded even though students and professors have expressed a desire to keep them is incredibly undermining of survivors' autonomy ("we know you feel they help you, but we know best what you need").
Holistic Perspective: Studies like the one referenced (or at least the conclusions that seem to be drawn from them) strike me as incredibly reductionistic: looking only at an immediate after-effect of a potentially beneficial measure rather than a holistic consideration of the potential impact on a person's long-term healing and sense of belonging, either alone or in combination with other measures (perhaps including therapy for those who need it). Even if such measures don't actually fix the problem but just provide comfort by saying "we see you," "we care about you," and "you are not alone," my position is that this is a very good reason to keep them (an intangible benefit that studies like these can't seem to account for).
#Metoo Lessons: The suggestion that the only people who would be served by trigger warnings are those who are actively suffering from PTSD and in dire need of therapy rings false to me. We all heard the discomfort in many of our friends' and colleagues' voices when they made very personal revelations further to #metoo. Whether they were actively suffering from PTSD or not, the pain was undeniably real and the long-term impact on many lives was palpable, even if it did not meet the criteria for a psychiatric disorder (something I don't need a psychologist to tell me since I have heard it directly from the people affected who are more than capable of speaking for themselves).
Accessibility for PTSD Sufferers: Also the fact that those who need trigger warnings may actually need PTSD therapy fails to address the issue: people who suffer from PTSD are perfectly entitled to be members of a classroom. People with this issue might make a legitimate choice to pursue therapy and attend class (especially considering that many people who are sexually assaulted are sexually assaulted in college and may not wish to discontinue their studies), or perhaps they may not be ready for therapy (or may have other barriers to pursuing that option) but would still like to be permitted to attend class and advance their education. The suggestion that they belong in therapy rather than the classroom is not an answer to the issue of whether those students deserve a very basic expression of kindness, compassion and consideration when they do in fact exist in such classrooms.

Note: For personal context added later, see my subsequent post regarding my experience in law school as someone with a personal trauma history: https://traumaandlawyersmentalhealth.blogspot.com/2019/08/my-experience-in-law-school-as-trauma.html

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Doubts and Fears: "Can I Really Make A Difference?"

A couple months ago I started on a journey to try to bring awareness to the issue of trauma and its impact on lawyers' mental health. It began with an article calling for a more expansive and inclusive understanding of the manner in which lawyers may be impacted by the trauma to which we are exposed: https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/a-more-inclusive-discussion-on-the-impact-of-trauma-on-lawyers-mental-health-is-needed/276166

As I pointed out in the article, this means consciously embracing a more expansive and inclusive understanding of what it means to be a lawyer. Many lawyers may come from positions of privilege and may have had very sheltered lives prior to entering the profession (although it should be emphasized that coming from a privileged background does not mean being immune to experiencing personal trauma). Such lawyers may experience the trauma to which they are vicariously exposed in their professional lives as a disruption of their previously enjoyed sense of innocence and safety. Thankfully, there has been a growing awareness (although still much work to do) on this phenomenon of vicarious trauma and the way in which it can impact lawyers even if they have never suffered from any personal trauma.

However, my point was and remains that this isn't the whole picture. Experiences of trauma are pervasive in our society and there are undoubtedly many among us who did not enter the profession with our innocence and sense of safety on these issues intact. There are many of us who struggled with and suffered from the impacts of trauma in a more personal way, perhaps from very early in life, or perhaps from some later stage. There are even those who experience their own personal trauma during law school or after being called to the bar. There are also those who have not personally suffered a particular traumatic event but whose lives have been deeply shaped by the trauma endured by their cultures and/or family members.

My voice on this issue is aimed at ensuring that we continue to raise awareness of the phenomenon of vicarious trauma and other lawyers' mental health issues, but do so in a manner that acknowledges (rather than erases) the diversity of ways in which lawyers' mental health can be impacted by trauma. My second--maybe even more important--goal is to ensure that anyone who may be struggling with these issues will not have to feel invisible or alone.

So that's what the goals were. But I have to be honest and say that I have struggled with significant doubts and fears about whether my voice on this issue can really make any difference.I know that these are things that someone needs to say. I'm just not sure if I'm the right person or if I'm doing it the right way.

First, I wonder if it detracts from my message that I have not opened up and shared my own "story" regarding what, if any, personal motivations I may have for raising this issue. There are many reasons for this. The first is that my whole point is that we shouldn't have to. This is an issue that should be attended to without those affected needing to speak up and share potentially very personal information about their own histories. In saying that, I am in no way diminishing how impressed I am with those who do have the courage to speak about their own experiences if they wish to do so and feel comfortable doing so. But, as has been said before, I don't feel any of us owes the world or the profession our stories. And for some of us sharing may not be a viable option: https://traumaandlawyersmentalhealth.blogspot.com/2019/07/sharing-personal-experiences-or-not.html

Second, even if my voice on this issue still has value despite the absence of personal details to lend it credibility, I am not particularly motivated to promote or amplify my own voice even if it is for a good cause. Although I would really like to find ways for the message to reach a larger audience (because I view the message as so important or necessary), I hesitate to appear self-promoting or attention-seeking. If I can reach a larger audience, then what I'd like to do is set up a community that is more collaborative, so that we can come together and brainstorm answers to these difficult questions, share resources, and support each other.

Third, I'm aware that even though I have personal insight into this issue and do feel I have important things to say and discussion points to raise, I know that I'm in no position to represent the full range of diverse viewpoints that needs to be heard on this issue. While there are many ways in which my background could not be characterized as privileged, I'm also aware that I come from a privileged perspective in many other ways. I really want to be cautious not to attempt to speak for everyone or crowd out any voices on this issue from other backgrounds. These are difficult things to write about and I'm constantly afraid that I might inadvertently be excluding or misrepresenting another perspective that needs and deserves to be heard.

For now, I'm at a loss as to whether to continue. Sometimes it feels like I'm writing into a void, and the process makes me feel even more alienated and alone on this issue. Yet, for now at least, all I keep thinking is that if there is even one person out there who reads this, now or at some future date, and feels less alone, then it was worth it. Or one person with the power to make decisions about this issue who is prompted to approach it in a more inclusive way, and thereby helps make someone struggling feel less alone....

So for now, I'll very tentatively keep this little experiment alive. I'm not sure I would call it a success, but at least I can say I'm trying.

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Monday, July 22, 2019

Strategy to Reduce Stigma For Lawyers' Mental Health Issues (Without Needlessly Exacerbating Other Types of Stigma)

Unfortunately, stigma is a major issue when it comes to mental health. Moreover, for anyone who has lived on the margins of what society or the profession deems "normal," stigma may very well be a serious problem with or without a mental health issue.

In the effort to encourage lawyers to get help for their mental health issues, it's therefore not uncommon for the mental-health-related stigma to be addressed and the feared associations with other types of stigma to be disclaimed. This type of message often sounds something like: "Being X doesn't mean that you are A, B, or C" (where X is the mental health issue in question and A,B,C are other attributes that may be even more heavily stigmatized).

Less directly, this kind of message can also be invoked to disassociate sufferers of X from other more stereotypical sufferers of X to whom greater stigma may apply: "Just because you're X doesn't mean that you are the version of X that has attributes A,B, C." Often this message is even less direct in the sense of being invoked simply to make the important point that X can happen to anyone not just those to whom you would expect it to happen (such as A,B,C).

I don't see any issue with the most basic form of this type of message (being X need not mean A,B,C) provided that great care is taken to ensure that the stigma for A,B,C is not invoked and potentially exacerbated as a means of making potential sufferers of X feel better. Given the stigma that exists for so many different types of conditions and characteristics, I don't feel that there is anything wrong with giving those who may suffer from a potentially stigmatizing condition the tools to narrow what their potential health issue may or may not mean so as to limit the stigma with which they may need to cope. But my view is that in doing so we need to be extremely cautious about not inflaming the stigma in relation to other characteristics and conditions to reach the target audience.

This is important not only to avoid exacerbating stigma for A,B,C who don't suffer X, but also for those who have the characteristics of both A,B,C, and X. It isn't okay in my view to try to reach some sufferers of X at the expense of increased stigma for A,B,C, whether they suffer X or not.

Some examples of what I have in mind are:

"Having depression doesn't mean you are one of those people who had a bad life, or came from the margins of society. It can even happen to wealthy powerful white men who have great jobs and loving families..."(a perfectly fine and important message in and of itself, but not if (1) the tone and content in any way suggests, even if only inadvertently, that it is not also okay to be someone who had a troubled life or has been marginalized, who may or may not also have depression, and (2) if such people are not also included in the outreach and discourse);
"Trauma is something that happened to you, not something wrong with you" (a totally important and okay message, but not if it in any way suggests that those who have mental health conditions that don't originate in something that happened to them, either with or without a history of trauma, are somehow to be stigmatized or disregarded);
Being affected by vicarious trauma as a lawyer is completely normal. It can happen to people who started out healthy, not just those people who were already mentally ill, broken, or damaged (a very fine message, provided that it in no way discounts, excludes or suggests that it isn't okay to be someone with preexisting vulnerabilities who also may or may not suffer the effects of vicarious trauma).

In a world where there is so much stigma attached to anyone who doesn't conform to the dominant ideal of what it means to be normal and accepted (e.g., strong, healthy, white, male, wealthy, heterosexual, raised in a typical nuclear family, etc.), navigating stigma is complicated and potentially dangerous. I offer no answers except to say that we need to be steadfastly cautious in thinking about our messaging and the impact that it may have not only on our target audience, but also on others who may be reached and potentially harmed and excluded by our message (or who may be equally in need of being reached, but may fail to be reached due to gaps and flaws in the messaging). This means listening carefully to different voices and perspectives with great humility and care. It also means constantly practicing the art of wondering who else might be affected by what we say and do even if we don't happen to be in a position to hear those voices without actively seeking them out (and perhaps improving the conditions of our discourse so they have greater opportunities to comfortably share their views with us).

So without providing any answers, what am I suggesting? Ideally, in my view, whenever possible, the types of stigma that may be at play with respect to a given mental health issue should be addressed simultaneously. For instance, if the circumstances warrant pointing out that X doesn't necessarily involve A,B,C, then we need to be very clear throughout our messaging that even in those instances where X does involve A,B,C, or where A,B,C, exist independently of X, there is no shame, and we need to proactively address the stigma that may be involved in those situations too. Also, we should ensure that we provide a balanced discourse that includes non-ABC voices along with ABC-voices to reduce the stigma for all and minimize the risk of decreasing stigma for one target group at the expense of exacerbating it for others. Perhaps it could go something like this (with the caveat that I'm not a mental health professional so I provide these examples more for a suggestion of how to structure the discussion. Please don't take anything I say below as an actual reflection of the substance of how we should address the mental health issues in question. I'm likely oversimplifying and getting it wrong in some ways):

Depression can happen to anyone. It can happen to people who have faced serious challenges and setbacks in life, or it can happen to people who seem to have everything going for them. Either way, there is absolutely no shame in it. To demonstrate this, here are some varied examples of people who have experienced depression sharing their stories. We commit to research and address all the varied ways in which lawyers from different backgrounds can experience depression and the particular ways in which we can best support their recovery, depending on their individual histories and circumstances.
Vicarious trauma can affect anyone: e.g., those who have a personal history of trauma, and those who have never personally suffered a traumatic event themselves; those who may have had other preexisting vulnerabilities (such as a mental health condition) and those who did not. Either way, there is no shame. To demonstrate this, here are some varied examples of people who have suffered from vicarious trauma sharing their stories. We commit to research and address all the varied ways in which lawyers from different backgrounds can experience vicarious trauma and the particular ways in which we can best support their recovery, depending on their individual histories and circumstances.

Finally, I would like to offer one further thought. In my view, not only should we aim to make our discourse and outreach inclusive in this way, we should also strive to make it transformative. Let's take every opportunity to not only tell people that being mentally ill doesn't mean they are especially weak or vulnerable, but also to unseat and challenge the narratives that assume that there is something inherently wrong with fragility and vulnerability. At the same time as we demonstrate how facing a mental health challenge can involve great strength and courage, let's also take the opportunity to examine whether it is really necessary to devalue the vulnerability and fearfulness that are undeniably a part of our shared human experience....

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Friday, July 19, 2019

Professionally Mandated Healing (Avoiding Discrimination and Health-Shaming)

It's wonderful that we are talking more about mental health these days and encouraging our colleagues to get the help they may need. I have written in previous posts about how important it is to create an environment in which self-care is encouraged and supported. I believe that we would all benefit from doing whatever we can to be as healthy as possible so that we can be the best possible lawyers we can be as well as enjoy the happy healthy lives we all deserve.

However, I do feel some unease in the midst of some of this mostly very commendable discourse. Consequently, this post will be aimed towards encouraging us all to slow down for a minute and make sure that when we talk about the need to take care of ourselves we don't fall prey to a coercive and potentially discriminatory type of message that tells lawyers that only those who meet a certain baseline of "normal" health will be valued and empowered to contribute.

Prior to saying more, I need to emphasize yet again that I'm not a mental health professional so nothing I say should be construed as advice about how and when people should seek assistance for their mental health issues. I'm also not purporting to give any advice about what our professional responsibilities in the face of a health issue actually may be in accordance with current rules and norms. In fact, I won't be addressing the actual rules of professional conduct at all. Instead, I'm speaking solely for myself about how I personally feel our profession should approach these discussions, the types of questions we should ask, and the outcomes and attitudes we should make a conscious effort to avoid.

The American Bar Association Report from the Task Force on National Well-being has recently said, "To be a good lawyer, one has to be a healthy lawyer." To be clear, I have not read further from their report, which I came upon only very recently (also note that I am not an American lawyer). It may very well be that it contains a more nuanced discussion, but from that comment and others like it that I have heard in this profession, I have concerns about this kind of rhetoric in service of what is an undeniably laudable objective.

The problem with demanding that lawyers be "healthy" as a professional obligation is that there is (I would argue) no baseline of health that is the same for everyone. Some people will have greater health challenges due to circumstances beyond their control. Some health challenges (whether physical, mental or a combination of both) may only be able to be managed, not cured. Some people may therefore not be able to reach the same baseline of health, but let's be clear: this does not mean that they aren't good lawyers or are somehow "less good" than their "normal" "healthy" colleagues. What matters is competence, professionalism, integrity, ethics, etc. Yes, this may include a requirement to be healthy enough to be able to reliably practice with the foregoing attributes but the touchstone of what it means to be a good lawyer should not be equated with health beyond these measures (that actually have a relationship to our ability to do our jobs). So in my view, a healthier lawyer is not inherently a better lawyer. Being disabled by an ongoing health condition that makes practice more difficult does not necessarily mean a lawyer can't make extraordinary contributions and be an excellent lawyer (maybe in some instances even a better lawyer than many colleagues who have been blessed with the good fortune of optimal health).

So yes we absolutely need to talk about the duty to care for our own health to the extent required to ensure that we can meet the requirements of professional practice. But in my view a duty to pursue optimal health should not become (or be talked about as if it were) a freestanding requirement. For those who struggle with an ongoing health issue that may take considerable time to improve, or even, sadly, a degenerative condition that may be expected to worsen over time, the effort to remain professionally competent may not even realistically involve a goal of improving health. It may simply involve a strategy to manage the condition and to recognize when it starts to interfere with the ability to practice (thereby requiring a break or a withdrawal from practice).

Again, I'm not an expert on any of this and purport to offer no advice on what that the standard should be. Obviously mental health issues can sometimes pose a risk for our competence just as physical health and other stressors and limitations can, so we have a duty to be mindful of this and deal with it appropriately, BUT unhealed health issues (mental or physical) do not necessarily render someone incompetent or even prevent a lawyer from being excellent.

So what am I suggesting? I'm suggesting that the conversation has to change. We can't just cajole and shame people into addressing their health issues in order to be a good lawyer (I'm not suggesting that anyone is doing so, just that it's a risk that needs to be consciously avoided). Rather, we need to support people in doing whatever they can to be the best lawyer they can be, which may include being as healthy as they can in their own unique circumstances (recognizing their autonomy to make choices about how they wish to live). And of course we need to continue to educate lawyers about the risks inherent in improperly managed health issues that may impact their ability to practice, and continue to have mechanisms available to monitor professional competence and supports in place to assist people in addressing their health issues when they need or wish to.

But when we talk about lawyer wellness, instead of shaming people into becoming healthier to be a good lawyer, I think we should start by addressing and dismantling aspects of our professional culture that have discouraged lawyers from feeling like it is okay to take care of themselves and have well-being for their own sake. So to encourage a climate of wellness, we need to stop talking simply in terms of what lawyers owe to the profession (Arguably, that feeling of owing everything to the profession is often what creates such immense stress on practitioners so as to exacerbate or create many health issues in the first place). Rather, to change the culture, we need to practice reminding lawyers to care for themselves because their well-being intrinsically matters. Not because they owe it to the profession, but because they are encouraged and empowered to make a contribution professionally while also maintaining space for their own well-being and health.

And we also need to have these conversations while being cautious to avoid discriminatory attitudes and outcomes. We need to make a conscious effort to remember that:

Health- and disability- shaming are not okay.
Not everyone in this profession needs to be like everyone else.
Not everyone needs to be so privileged as to be able to fit others' definitions of "healthy."
Some lawyers may arrive in the profession with greater burdens and struggles which may make practice more difficult for them but which don't prevent them from making wonderful and important contributions.

If we truly strive as a profession to be inclusive, then we also need to seriously consider the circumstances in which it should not be the duty of the individual alone to become "healthy" to a certain standard or else leave the profession. Rather, it may be incumbent on the profession to do a better job of creating an environment that supports and accommodates those who have health struggles, so that they can make the wonderful contributions to the profession that they are very capable of making and so that the profession can benefit from the widest possible range of voices, skills, strengths, and perspectives.

We accordingly need to ensure that the discussions on lawyer wellness do not amount to telling people to go away and fix themselves while letting the profession and individual workplaces off the hook so that no soul-searching need be done to determine how to provide a more accommodating environment so that people with different health challenges will be able to meaningfully participate.

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Tuesday, July 16, 2019

"Toughness" and the Legal Profession

Lawyers, we're often told, need to be tough. We need to have thick skins. As early as law school, I recall hearing some professors and lawyers send the message to students: don't coddle yourself or expect others to coddle you. Don't complain if you aren't treated kindly or if your particular needs aren't accommodated. I recall my dismay several years into practice when many practitioners openly scoffed as word got out about law schools introducing yoga sessions and therapy dogs for stressed-out students during exams. If you expect too much kindness, compassion and opportunities for self-care when you are first learning, the tough-as-steel practitioners complained, then how will you ever be able to handle the harsh realities of practice?

If you can't hack it in law school, they grumbled, then how will you make it in a courtroom with someone's liberty at stake and a mercurial judge impatiently staring you down? How will you ever be able to calmly study photographs of a murder scene and an autopsy? How will you be able to handle hearing about the terrible things some people do to each other on a regular basis for the rest of your career? And how will you be able to do all this and more while functioning on only a few hours of sleep a night in an adversarial, highly competitive, often unforgiving professional environment?

For many areas of law, traumatic fact patterns are just like the air we breathe. From the moment we start to practice, we are expected to be able to unflinchingly navigate the most heart-wrenching factual scenarios. Moreover, the way in which we are expected to engage with all this trauma is not limited to passive exposure, but often requires us to get heavily involved in its aftermath, albeit in a very constrained and unnatural way. Depending on our respective roles in the system, this may mean being able to show empathy to and serve the interests of some deeply traumatized people, while at the same time attacking the credibility of and attempting to undermine the interests of others. On the approach that requires us to simply be tough, lawyers are expected to find their own ways of coping with all the trauma in which they are constantly immersed without complaining about (or even noticing) the impact this has on their own well-being or requesting any accommodations to enable proper self-care while dealing with it. At the same time, they are also expected to find their own ways to cope with all the other stressors involved in legal practice, which can include: long hours and resulting sleep deprivation, a fear of not fitting in or being good enough, an increasing sense of isolation, and a steep learning curve in attempting to learn the complexities of quickly evolving jurisprudence. Many may even have to deal simultaneously with discrimination and harassment, for instance due to race, disability, and/or gender. No wonder we need to be so "tough."

Yet in a harsh professional landscape, are "tough" lawyers really what we need? What might we miss out on if we don't take extra care to ensure that those who would benefit from a "softer"approach can also participate in the profession? As usual, I'm not going to provide any definitive answers, but simply raise the questions I feel are important and share a few of my own thoughts.

The answer to this question depends on what our goals are. If our goal is just to maintain all those harsh realities, then maybe the same old tough-as-nails approach that mandates us all to view ourselves as virtually invulnerable warriors will serve us. But even on its own terms, we have to ask if that approach really serves its own ends. In no other context would we regard an ongoing deliberate failure to take care of oneself as a tool of the strong. A professional athlete who deliberately failed to get adequate sleep or nutrition, and made a habit of ignoring injuries for no good reason, would not be a model for others. Such an athlete might thrive for awhile but would not be doing what's necessary to sustain her performance over the longer term. At the very least then, even on the "tough warrior" scale, constantly seasoning ourselves through harsh methods with no nurturing of our own basic needs will eventually (or rapidly) break us down rather than strengthen us. At a minimum, even on this approach, we therefore need to make a habit of learning what will truly make us strong and better able to perform our difficult work throughout the several decades over which we expect to practice. We then need to be open to learning from the answers, even if regular yoga and puppy cuddling might be involved. Although not a mental health professional, I imagine that a considerable amount of self-care will not only be beneficial but also mandated for best results. It wouldn't mean that we don't challenge ourselves to be as tough as possible, but that we do so intelligently in a way that actually serves that goal.

Yet if our collective goal is to make the profession the best it possibly can be in view of our society's shared values, then we need to be open to an answer that is transformative in the sense of seeking to reshape the old way of doing things. If, for instance, the aim is to transform the profession into the kindest, most exemplary version of itself where lawyers are strong in pursuing the legitimate interests of their clients and the legal system (even when this can manifest in very adversarial, sometimes harsh ways), but also capable of great compassion, humility and empathy whenever possible, then how might we cultivate such an environment and whom might we want to be sure to include? Although I again think the questions are more important than any of the answers I might suggest, here are a couple of my thoughts....

First, we will, of course, want to include as many perspectives and backgrounds as possible to ensure that the diverse participants in the system can be adequately represented and understood. I've already said a great deal about this in other posts so I won't repeat it all again here. In the context of improving the profession and justice system overall, I will add that since it is necessary for someone to be a member of the profession before becoming eligible to be selected as a judge, it is all the more necessary for a wide range of approaches, experiences, and backgrounds to be included in the profession. Although judges must possess considerable mental toughness to perform their functions, it is also essential that they be able to understand and empathize with the wide range of litigants and justice system participants who may appear before them. To be truly fair and impartial in a diverse environment in which some perspectives are at great risk of being silenced or misunderstood--especially in the face of so much conflict and trauma--requires strength and self-assurance but also gentleness and humility. We need, in my view, to cultivate the latter characteristics every bit as much as the former to make the system the best it can be. Judges need to not only endure the trauma to which they are exposed, but also engage with it in a manner that is attentive, sensitive and fair. The same goes for lawyers: we all need to be prepared (when appropriate within the bounds of our respective roles) to understand and show compassion towards justice system participants from varied backgrounds. As a profession, we therefore need to learn how to develop strength of character and mental toughness while at the same time nurturing our ability to be gentle, kind, and humble. To me, this means a professional context in which we practice being as kind and understanding towards each other as we can be (without sacrificing our adversarial roles in the system or any of the fundamental principles on which the justice system is built).

Second, to promote the aim of making lawyers as strong as possible without sacrificing their ability to be compassionate and humble, we will need to ensure that the right conditions are present for maximum resilience. We need to learn not just how to stay afloat but also how to recover when some of us inevitably start to sink under the strain of the stress we constantly endure. Maintaining an environment and culture in which we can be open about our vulnerabilities and struggles can assist us all in recognizing when we are in need of help and how to go about getting it. In this way, it is imperative that we recognize that those who struggle and speak out about (or simply provide a model of) self-care perform a great service for the profession. It would be terrible to miss out on this contribution if we insist on acting like only the seemingly invulnerable are welcome or valued. People who aren't afraid to be vulnerable are therefore every bit as important as those who model toughness and strength in the traditional sense. And, of course, considerable strength is involved in facing up to our vulnerability.

Overall, the key point is that questions of who can and should succeed in our profession and what should be done to encourage, support, and accommodate them in doing so are not straightforward ones. We shouldn't just be asking what it would take for lawyers to succeed in view of our current professional realities, but what our goals for our professional culture should be and how to achieve them. A gentler approach could be one that keeps the things we prize (the fundamental values on which the system is built) while eliminating the unnecessary harsh edges that don't serve our values. Perhaps if we made sustained good faith efforts to enable the more sensitive among us to succeed then we could also benefit from their wisdom and insights in helping to address these critical questions...

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Wednesday, July 10, 2019

How Can We Support Each Other? (A Question, Not An Answer)

Given the pressures inherent in our work and the challenges so many of us face (deadlines/isolation/high-stakes, high-stress litigation), it's not surprising that we sometimes struggle with mental health issues.

So how can we support each other and create a more compassionate professional culture where we can all contribute and thrive professionally without undermining our own personal wellbeing?

As always, I'm not an expert in any of these issues and am just offering some of my own thoughts. In my view, the main thing we need to do is roll up our sleeves and have the conversation in a sustained and earnest way. And the only way we can meaningfully do this is by acknowledging from the start that it won't be easy, but will require ongoing effort, creativity, and attention. Fortunately, we are professionally trained in the art of problem-solving our way through complex and difficult issues, so if we turn our minds to this, we have the power to make a real difference.

So here are some of my own thoughts and reflections. Perhaps we might be able to start brainstorming how to make things better for ourselves and our colleagues by:

Acknowledging the difficulty of the problem: life can sometimes be very complicated, cruel and unfair, and our work (and working conditions) can make it impossible for us to ignore the ugly and scary side of things. We can start with the realization that we all need to find ways to prepare for and cope with some of these harsh realities. I'm not a mental health professional, and definitely don't have the answers as to how we can do that. But I think we can begin by creating space in our professional culture for us to share our experiences and ideas, explore potential solutions, and receive advice from those who might be able to help guide us (e.g., professionals, and/or understanding peers or mentors). What works for some of us might not work for all of us, but the more we address the issue, the greater the likelihood that we will be able to each find an approach that works for us and a connection to mutually-supportive colleagues.
Learning ways to communicate with each other about what we each need and what we each can offer. One way to do this is to simply start sharing our stories and perspectives and listening to others do the same. But it's not that straightforward since some perspectives will be easier to share and hear than others. We therefore have to make an active effort to create an environment in which even those perspectives that have been marginalized, stigmatized, silenced, and excluded can be attended to, understood, and taken into account. To do this, we will not only need to listen to those with different perspectives who are attempting to share their needs and stories with us, but will also have to make a habit of looking around us in an attempt to notice any voices that may be absent (e.g., those who are already in the profession, but may not have the same opportunities to share their experiences, due to stigma, unequal power dynamics, marginalization or some other reason; and those who haven't yet been able to enter the profession in significant numbers due to barriers to inclusion that need to be addressed).
Finding ways to create flexible working conditions, options, and resources so that those of us with different needs and strengths can make the greatest possible contribution without compromising our own wellbeing.
Exploring ways in which we can connect with each other to decrease our sense of alienation and isolation.
Thinking about the ways we can generally be kinder and less judgmental to each other, and remove needless stressors, rules and barriers that don't actually serve the public or the profession. This could mean, for instance, removing rigid and/or arbitrary rules of etiquette and procedure that serve nothing but tradition, especially if those rules disproportionately create a burden on those who may already be struggling, or give rise to harsh judgments against or unkind treatment towards those who transgress.
Thinking about ways we can encourage and support each other in finding a deeper sense of meaning and empowerment in our professional lives, which may help reduce the stressors that exacerbate any mental health challenges we may face.
Ensuring that regular and appropriate education takes place (with the assistance of mental health professionals AND people with lived experience) to equip members of the profession with an understanding of the various kinds of mental health challenges that they or their colleagues may face, with particular attention to eradicating harmful stigmas and misconceptions.
Making information readily available (again informed by mental health professionals AND people with lived experience) which teaches employers and lawyers how they may helpfully support an employee or colleague who is struggling.

That's all I have so far at the moment: by no means a long or complete list. Surely there is more we can do. Or maybe it is better to let those initial steps unfold so that we can hear a multiplicity of perspectives regarding more concrete action that needs to be taken?

For now I will just suggest that in a more concrete sense, maybe we can start with:

More profession-and-workplace-sponsored events, discussions, education, and resources specifically devoted to mental health issues.
More opportunities and spaces for those who wish to share their perspectives to do so, and some mechanism to ensure that those perspectives can then inform how these issues are discussed and what resources are made available.
More efforts to ensure that when these issues are discussed, it's done in a way that is careful not to raise awareness and decrease stigma for one set of experiences/challenges at the expense of others. (e.g., don't decrease the stigma for one kind of challenge by drawing on and intensifying the stigma for others [a concern I subsequently wrote about here]; and don't discuss mental health issues in a way that is uninformed by issues of intersectionality).
More events in individual workplaces and in the profession more broadly that help connect us to each other with special attention to ensuring that those who might usually be isolated and excluded will be able to safely and comfortably participate (e.g., social events, networking events).
More events and resources that generally promote our mental and physical health, so that we will be better equipped to handle the challenges we individually face.

Those are my own thoughts on the issue. I look forward to learning more about the perspectives of others either via comments here or via my own efforts to seek out and learn what others are sharing. Please feel free to comment below or message me with your own thoughts if you think there is something I got wrong or something that could be added. And I would welcome it if anyone wants to do a guest entry sharing their own views....

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Saturday, July 6, 2019

Sharing Personal Experiences (or Not)

Sharing mental-health-related personal stories can raise awareness about the issue and help others feel less alone. For some people (from what I have heard), it can be a liberating experience and many people who speak out report receiving a lot of kind and supportive responses.

That having been said, despite those potential benefits, the decision to speak out about one's own experiences (or not) can be very complicated, especially when trauma is involved. I don't have the answers about what anyone should do, but here are some of my own thoughts about why someone might feel reluctant or unable to be open about their own past history of trauma:

People with a traumatic past may feel a lot of shame and self-blame. This is exacerbated by the fact that many types of trauma still have a great deal of stigma associated with them. It's not uncommon for people who disclose experiences of trauma to be retraumatized by unsupportive responses by those closest to them. These past experiences of unsupportive and/or damaging reactions can make a person all the more reluctant to expose themselves to potentially damaging responses again;
Some people may not have fully addressed and healed from their trauma and may not wish to face their past by speaking about it or even acknowledging it to themselves. They may not have made the connection between their traumatic history and the mental or physical health challenges that affect them;
People's histories of trauma might be lengthy and/or complicated. It might not be a simple or easy tale to share. It could span years or decades and include multiple events or types of trauma. They could still be sorting out for themselves how to put words to the experiences and properly name what they have been through. Also, in some cases, trauma survivors may not feel that they can share their stories without impacting others who were involved in the trauma. The trauma survivor may not be ready for a confrontation with a perpetrator that telling her story could bring. If there are others who were affected by the trauma (e.g., other victims, or other people closely connected to her who are part of her story), she may not feel it is her story alone to decide to share;
Lawyers deal with people who have been traumatized and people alleged to have inflicted trauma on others. A lawyer with a personal history of trauma may fear drawing attention away from the excellent work she does on behalf of her clients or the public if she tells her own story (e.g., a sexual assault survivor who is also a dedicated criminal defence lawyer, representing clients who, inter alia, are accused of committing sexual offences, may fear that people would--wrongly--question her commitment to her client's cases if they knew her own history);
Sadly, there is no guarantee that the response of colleagues, supervisors, workplaces, and the legal community to a disclosure will be helpful, kind and supportive. As far as I can tell, there are few resources out there specifically responsive to the issue of lawyers with personal trauma histories. In discourse about lawyers' mental health and resources directed to the issue, trauma is rarely even mentioned (apart from vicarious trauma which is thankfully being talked about more in recent years) despite the statistics about how prevalent trauma is in our society and the increased susceptibility to other mental health issues (including depression, anxiety, and addiction) for those with a personal trauma history . This silence can send the message that appropriate trauma-sensitive resources are lacking. Further, the inexplicable silence on such an important issue can appear to send the message that trauma survivors don't belong in the profession and the profession is not interested in hearing about or talking about such experiences, thereby reinforcing the culture of shame, stigma and secrecy that often prevails in relation to trauma;
Some people have already healed from their trauma. They may not wish to revisit a time in which they were vulnerable and also may not wish to have people associate them with those terrible experiences from which they feel they have moved on; and
Some people don't have proper supports in place to make difficult disclosures, even if they genuinely wish they could do so to help others and raise awareness. They may already be experiencing maximum stress levels simply in staying on top of their caseload and may not feel able to make the emotionally challenging decision to share their experiences.

Those are just some of my own non-expert thoughts about why people who have experienced trauma may not feel able to tell their stories. The problem, of course, is that without people being able to tell their stories, it may seem like it is a problem affecting only a few that need not be specifically addressed. Yet given how prevalent trauma is, and given the stories I have heard from so many colleagues about their own experiences of trauma, I know this can't be true. The need is there. So how do we raise awareness and help those struggling feel less alone, even in the absence of people speaking up in numbers that reveal the scope and scale of the problem? I have provided some of my own thoughts about this in my previous post: https://traumaandlawyersmentalhealth.blogspot.com/2019/07/embracing-our-vulnerability.html

For those struggling with this issue (wishing they could speak up to help change the culture, but feeling reluctant or unable to do so for the above or other reasons), I can't provide any answers. Those few who have courageously shared their stories have undoubtedly helped others immeasurably. But no one owes it to the world or to the profession to tell their story if they don't feel ready, able or inclined to do so. If someone is struggling to decide whether to share their own story, my hope is that they will carefully reflect on the pros and cons for them of doing so (ideally with the support of others, such as understanding and caring friends, family or colleagues, and/or helping professionals, such as a therapist). That said, it isn't for me to tell anyone what they should or shouldn't share or when or why, nor do I have the expertise to do so. It's a deeply personal decision.

Yet for those who hesitate or are afraid to share, perhaps there could be other options to enable them to help raise awareness and help others feel less alone. Perhaps providing an anonymous forum in which people can share as much or as little as they like without identifying information could assist. I have wondered if at some point this forum could develop into a place where that could be done. Perhaps an entry for "Personal Stories" in which people can submit their own description of how personal trauma has impacted their experience as a lawyer could be posted. It would give people a place to share their experiences (which could be as simple as saying, "yes, I'm a lawyer and I have a personal trauma history") while minimizing many of the fears above. Or perhaps this could be done in an entirely non-public forum (e.g., a completely confidential survey) and the information provided to those responsible for shifting the culture (e.g., employers, lawyers' assistance programs, regulatory bodies, etc.) simply to demonstrate that there is a real issue that is not being adequately addressed. Yet the reality is that some people may not feel ready or may not yet be able to disclose even in those ways, so we need to be mindful of the fact that the scope of the problem may not be able to be fully known.

This blog is still new and as I have said before still just at the experimental stage to see if there is any interest in addressing the issue. It may be that it simply fizzles out given my own inability to get the message out there, reach those affected, and provide a forum in which people wish to engage, even if the interest does exist. So we'll see. As always, I welcome any thoughts about how to accomplish these aims more effectively and what other steps might be taken. I also welcome any guest submissions for future posts (which could be attributed to the author by name or simply posted as "anonymous contributor" with or without some autobiographical information, e.g., "anonymous contributor/family lawyer," depending on preference and comfort level).

As always, please note that I am a lawyer, not a mental health professional of any kind. I have no expertise in trauma or mental health. Also, please note that any opinions and views expressed in this blog are solely my own and are not intended to represent the views or opinions of my employer in any way. For more information about the purpose of this blog, please see here and for a bit more information about my personal perspective on this issue, please see "my story" here

I am very grateful to have received a "Clawbie" Award for this blog (which reflects the importance of this topic): https://www.clawbies.ca/2019-clawbies-canadian-law-blog-awards/

For some of my external writing on this topic, see:

Thursday, July 4, 2019

Embracing Our Vulnerability

Talking about mental health and wellness in general, and the impact of trauma in particular, can be very difficult, especially in our profession. We are part of an adversarial system in which no one wants to be seen as weak. We may fear stigma and discrimination. We may fear not fitting in. We may fear showing weakness that could be used against us.

Those fears are entirely understandable.

Nevertheless, facing our vulnerabilities, both individually and collectively, is important and necessary. We are all aware professionally that it is not a position of strength to turn a blind eye to weaknesses in our legal arguments. Unless we accept and fully examine both the strengths and weaknesses of our position in any given case, we will not be adequately equipped to be effective advocates. In the context of our work, we know that only in facing our apparent weaknesses can we learn the ways in which something that first presents as a weakness can actually become a strength (and vice versa).

We need to bring the same level of thoughtful self-awareness to our assessments of our own health and the health of the profession. The system benefits when lawyers can thrive professionally without damaging their personal health or the health of the profession in doing so. Better health and wellness means an enhanced ability to perform necessary tasks and more leftover creative energy to help address the bigger issues facing the profession (e.g., how to make justice more accessible to all members of the public, how to promote diversity, inclusion and equality in the profession).

Generally, we need to acknowledge this because we all have vulnerabilities. Whether our vulnerabilities and challenges are mental health related or not, none of us are superhuman. We face adversity in our lives and we need to do a better job of talking about how we nevertheless work through it (and also when it is time to take a break and engage in some self-care rather than play through). Maintaining a superhero-like persona for ourselves or those whom we admire is not helpful. Self-deception does not improve competence.

It's especially important that we address our own trauma-related experiences and perspectives for the following reasons (not intended to be exhaustive):

To the extent that our own personal experiences of trauma make us vulnerable, we need to be aware of this so that we can take the necessary steps towards healing and/or managing those vulnerabilities;
To the extent that our own experiences of surviving, managing, and/or healing from trauma provide us with unique strengths and insights, we need to learn ways to enhance our ability to draw on those strengths and insights so that we can use them to benefit ourselves, the profession and those whom we serve;
To the extent that our own experiences of trauma affect the way we see the world, we need to be mindful of this, so that we can critically examine our assumptions and interpretations about other people and situations in our professional lives (in the same way that any effective advocate or adjudicator needs to be aware of the way their own personal experiences may shape their worldviews and perceptions);
To the extent that we haven't experienced trauma (or any particular subtype of trauma), we need to actively listen to and learn from others, whose experiences might ordinarily be concealed from view, so that we can help promote the health and wellbeing of our colleagues and so that we can collectively benefit from the resilience, skills and knowledge of those who have experienced or are currently experiencing the effects of trauma;
To the extent that we want to promote diversity, inclusion and equality in the profession, we need to actively strive to understand the obstacles facing those with different backgrounds and experiences, who may have suffered more adversity and trauma on their road to becoming a lawyer, so that we can create a professional culture that is welcoming and inclusive, and minimize the barriers they may face. And, equally importantly, this will help all of us by enabling us to benefit from enhanced access to the wisdom and strength of a diverse range of colleagues; and
To the extent that we aim to create a trauma-informed justice system in general, we need to be aware of our own individual and collective vulnerability to trauma, so that we will be equipped with a better understanding of the nature and prevalence of trauma (which will help us be more responsive to the needs of the public we serve, many of whom have been traumatized).

With respect to the need to listen to others, this will be complicated by the fact that stigma can still be very strong for those who have experienced the effects of trauma. And the experience of discrimination is still very real. Since such experiences can be very personal in nature, many people may never feel comfortable sharing what they have gone through. So informing ourselves about the experiences of those who may have experienced trauma and the difficulties they may face in our profession will be a challenge that we will need to proactively strategize about how to meet. The purpose of this blog is not to answer the difficult question of how best to accomplish this aim, but to attempt to spark and facilitate those efforts. In the spirit of brainstorming, I suggest that the following might help:

Carefully listen to, learn from and find ways to support those who do choose to speak about their experiences. Be sure that the message is clear to anyone who may wish to share their experiences that they will be supported. Provide options so that they may share their experiences (if they wish to do so) in a way that feels comfortable for them;
Provide options for those affected who may wish to provide input about their experiences but may not wish to speak openly about them to provide feedback in a safe and (if they so desire) anonymous way;
Inform ourselves generally about the prevalence of trauma in our society, and the challenges facing those who experience trauma. Then--rather than wait for affected individuals in the profession to speak up and advocate for themselves (which they may not feel comfortable doing for very understandable reasons)--make best efforts to anticipate barriers faced by affected lawyers and aspiring lawyers so that the obstacles can be removed (thereby creating a more "trauma-informed" professional culture);
Generally, maintain an awareness of the prevalence of trauma and the likelihood that many of our colleagues have experienced it even if they may not wish to talk about it, and to the extent possible, structure our practices, events, and discourse in a manner that is sensitive to this reality (the same way we aim to do for other barriers to inclusion);
Find ways to research (or employ professionals to research) the impact of trauma on lawyers. Ensure that this research is sensitive to the variety of ways in which lawyers may be impacted by trauma, including: (1) having a history of personal and/or intergenerational trauma (which may be triggered by exposure to the trauma of others, and/or the high levels of stress and isolation in the profession), (2) being exposed to the traumatic experiences of others in the justice system, even if the lawyer has no personal history of trauma ("vicarious trauma"), (3) experiencing new trauma while already engaged in the practice of law (e.g., being sexually assaulted by a supervisor or colleague). In considering these issues, be mindful of the ways in which trauma-related issues can intersect with other potential barriers to inclusion, such as those related to race, physical or mental disability, gender identity, sexual orientation and socioeconomic background; and
Maintain an openness to new information and be aware that, given the ways in which issues of trauma are often hidden from view (due to stigma, unequal power dynamics, etc.), our information will often be incomplete and we will need to continue to be inquisitive, supportive and prepared to receive new information and revise previously cherished assumptions and beliefs.

These are just my initial thoughts as a non-expert. I haven't seen much published on this issue specifically for lawyers (although there is plenty of literature on creating more trauma-informed cultures and institutions in other contexts), even though I know from conversations with colleagues that we lawyers as a group are by no means exempt from the statistics regarding the high rates of exposure to trauma in our society. At this stage, my aim is just to start a discussion....