I'm probably never going to be able to talk openly about the trauma history that preceded me becoming a lawyer. It's that history which has the greatest severity and impact on me, and there are all kinds of complicated reasons why I know I can never openly share it (even if I someday want to for the sake of helping others and/or unburdening myself). Sometimes privacy can feel like a prison. It's a burden I've had to live with for a very long time.
So I'm going to instead share a relatively straightforward and self-contained story of an incident that happened to me in the spring of 2008 when I was nearing the end of my 2nd year of being a lawyer and was supposed to be magically tough and invincible. I'm not sure what the purpose of me sharing it is except to provide a demonstration of what should already be so obvious: just because we are lawyers doesn't mean we can't be hurt. Also perhaps it's my way of experimenting with what it feels like to share (something I'll never be able to do with respect to the more difficult stuff for me). I reserve the right to delete this later if it no longer feels comfortable for me to have it out there, but I've thought about this and don't anticipate that it will be necessary for me to do so.
At the time, I was a criminal defence lawyer and feeling pretty good about my career. I had been working incredibly hard and hadn't taken a lot of vacation time, so I decided to give my credit card a workout and take my first trip outside North America. I had never been on such a big exciting vacation. Originally, I had planned to travel with a friend, but when that fell through, I was more than happy to go by myself, with all the freedom and adventure that entailed.
I rented a small room in Rome but had travel plans to explore nearby. One day, I was supposed to go with a tour group to an island. I woke up early and took my time walking to the bus stop. When I arrived, however, it turned out that the bus had already left. It happened to be the day when the clocks moved forward an hour (which I didn't know about).
I was ready for an adventure, having walked all that way. The train station was nearby, so I decided to be spontaneous and see where the trains were heading. The one thing I had been warned about was not to go to Naples by myself. There were news stories about how dangerous it was for tourists at that time (there was a big garbage strike and things were generally chaotic from what I recall). So my only restriction was NOT Naples. Of course, when I arrived at the station, the only train leaving anytime soon that would work for a day trip was in fact going to Naples. I recalled that there were ferries from Naples to neighboring islands, so I decided "I came all this way. I'll catch the train to Naples but then immediately find a ferry and go to an island."
The problem is I had no map, but how big could Naples be? When I got off the train, I wandered out into the streets and decided to walk in the general direction of where the water seemed to be. It couldn't be that far. It was a hot day and I had an injured foot, but I walked and walked. The walk, as it turned out, took me through an industrial-seeming neighborhood, where I felt anything but safe. It seemed to take forever but I finally did reach a ferry terminal. Happy to finally be safe, I booked the next trip to an island I hadn't personally heard of.
On the ferry, I was comforted to find someone local from the island who was able to converse with me in English. He seemed mild-mannered, was younger than me and therefore harmless-seeming (although much taller and bigger) and was offering me some advice about what I should see. I had recently turned 30 and thought at the time that there was no way men in their 20's would even have an interest in me. During that very benign-seeming conversation, the young man told me that I would need to walk a great distance from where the ferry docked (I can't recall if he said the area near the ferry docked was bereft of civilization or an unsafe place to pass time while waiting hours for the return ferry but it was persuasive to me that it was not a good place to hang out). As the conversation progressed, he offered in a very non-pushy way to give me a ride to where I would need to go, so that way I would need to do the long walk only once on the return trip, since it would not be feasible to walk both ways with the time I had. I assessed the situation with my super-smart super-savvy criminal lawyer brain and it seemed okay to me so I agreed.
The alarm bells didn't start going off in my brain until a few minutes into the ride when he was pulled over by a police officer. The officer clearly knew who he was and was (from my perspective at the time) being inexplicably hostile to him and treating him like a dangerous criminal. Even more shocking to me, the young man was being rude and confrontational right back. I didn't know what to make of the situation. After all, it was a totally different country and I didn't know the dynamics there. At one point, the officer addressed me directly and asked if the man had done anything to me and perhaps asked if I was in need of assistance. In my state of confusion, I said the only thing I felt was honest in the circumstances: that no he hadn't done anything to me (which was true) and I was okay. But the whole situation certainly made me anxious. The officer appeared frustrated (and maybe even angered) by my response and said something to the effect of if I wouldn't let him, he couldn't help me. I was even more worried at this point, but no words came out, and the encounter with my only source of possible rescue (should I need it for some unclear reason) ended.
I can't recall exactly what I said to the young man then, but I indicated as politely as I could that I would prefer to walk the rest of the way. Rather than pull over immediately, he made up some reason to drive a bit further and pulled off onto a side road with beautiful scenery overlooking the ocean. He immediately started grabbing at me and kissing me forcefully and when I struggled and made it clear I wasn't interested, he started hitting me and attempting to physically subdue me. The details are fuzzy due to the passage of time and the surprise I was feeling at the time. I didn't cry or yell or hit him back, but I did struggle as much as I could. When I recall how I felt at the time, the best way to describe it was that the feelings one might expect were there, except they were bizarrely muted and detached and it all just felt so stupid. I recall at one point looking at the scenery (noting how beautiful it was) and thinking of how incredibly ridiculous it was that there was a chance that I might die here. Not that I thought he would likely kill me. It just seemed like a live possibility in the circumstances (especially given how serious the police had been in dealing with him) and I couldn't believe how unbelievably stupid that would be to potentially meet a fate like that in such beautiful surroundings on my first trip outside North America far from anyone who knew me. Moreover, I was a criminal lawyer who should have known better (so so stupid).
Ultimately, the incident ended with me escaping any major harm (I wasn't injured and he didn't actually manage to get anywhere with me beyond the grabbing, forcible kissing, hitting, and struggling). He suddenly gave up and swore at me (something to the effect of me not being worth it). I gladly got out of the car and then spent the next hour or so lost and trying to find my way back to the ferry (which included stumbling on rocks along the shoreline adjacent to what appeared to be private property in the hopes of finding my way back to wherever the ferry was). I was agitated but mostly angry with myself. I kept trying to call my friends back in Canada and feeling irrationally angry when they didn't answer. When I eventually found the ferry terminal, I simply waited there for however long it took for a boat to take me away from that island.
Back in Naples, all I wanted was to get back to the train station. I got a map and tried to figure out the most direct route back. It seemed easy enough: up and to the right. What I didn't account for was the terrain. The route I took was up a steep incline, and took forever, even though it traversed only a short distance on the map. It took me outside the touristy area of the city. At one point I recalled someone pointing at me and laughing shouting "Tourist!" When I got to the top of the steep incline and looked down upon the city, I noted with great dismay that it was getting dark and I was lost with no transportation options in sight. With great trepidation but no other option, I started the walk down and darkness fully surrounded me. Out came the vespa's zipping past me. Finally after at least a half hour of further walking, I sat down on a bench just to collapse, cry, and give up. Shortly afterwards, a cab appeared as if out of nowhere and asked if I needed to go somewhere. I was so grateful that I think I tipped him 400%. It wasn't the end of my stress. The universe seemed to be conspiring against my hope of returning to Rome (there was a train workers strike that luckily concluded shortly after my arrival at the station), but I finally made it back.
I resumed my vacation the next day and never really processed what impact this incident had on me. In view of my prior history, it undoubtedly had significance for me, but I wouldn't let myself face it. I just carried on with my trip. Yet, as tough as I thought I was being about it, I noted that I was so ashamed of myself for getting into the situation (accepting the ride and failing to ask for police assistance) that I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone, including those I was very close to, what had happened, even when I recounted for them all the other harrowing details of that day (getting lost in Naples, etc.). I only recently was able to share those details with the person I was closest to at the time. Even then, I couldn't help repeatedly referring to it as "that stupid Italy thing." Only now am I sharing it with anyone else (apart from a professional) in writing this.
I will undoubtedly have to address further the impact this had on me (both as a trigger in relation to past trauma and as an incident unto itself). It bugs me and gnaws at me in a way I can't explain. But for now I'm just sharing it in as matter-of-fact a way as I can.
Only recently did I realize that it never even occurred to me (despite my role in the criminal justice system) after it was over to try to contact the police and tell them they were right about the guy so they could use that information to possibly prevent others being harmed. I feel guilty about that but I know I was in such a stressed-out state that the only thing I could think about was finding a way to get safely back to my room in Rome and put the incident and the stressful events of the day out of my mind. Once that happened, I sank into my bed and woke up in the morning determined to laugh off the previous day's misadventures and enjoy the rest of my very expensive trip. It also only very recently dawned on me that the intervention of the police that day may very well have saved me from a much worse fate. The fact that the guy knew that the police had seen me with him would have made it a lot more difficult for him to have gotten away with inflicting more serious harm on me. For that I'm grateful.
So I guess I wasn't a super tough invulnerable lawyer after all and that's the point. We're human. We can be strong competent lawyers and still vulnerable. We need to deal with that reality.
Now is the time when I would usually be tempted to double down on all the caveats to prove how strong I am and how I'm not seeking anyone's sympathy: how it was no big deal, how it could have been worse than it was, etc. Except I also know that's total bullshit. And when I do express those caveats, I also have to deal with the guilt of downplaying something that I know for a fact can have a serious impact (since I've seen the harm incidents like this can have and I have great empathy for anyone who has to deal with it). Torture myself as I might privately, the "it could have been much worse" exercise isn't something I'm willing to do publicly, because I don't want anyone else to have to feel that way.
So anyway, that's just me dipping my toe cautiously into the sharing-waters, knowing I can never dive in. I'm not sure how I'll feel about it now, but I wanted to share a bit (despite how vulnerable it makes me) to help send the message to others that it's okay to be open about being vulnerable (if you choose and want to), despite being a super-tough, perfectly capable and principled lawyer. I don't regard it as a big revealing story for me in the context of my own personal history (sometimes it feels like more of a footnote) but I think it's something safe for me to share to make the very basic point about vulnerability.
The end.
Follow-up post with reflections about (1) what made it possible to share this experience while others might not be so easy to tell and (2) how we should find ways to learn from the silence as well as from what is shared: https://traumaandlawyersmentalhealth.blogspot.com/2019/09/sharing-but-still-holding-back.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:
- https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/a-more-inclusive-discussion-on-the-impact-of-trauma-on-lawyers-mental-health-is-needed/276166
- https://www.cbabc.org/BarTalk/Articles/2020/February/Features/Speaking-Up-About-Trauma-and-Mental-Health
- https://www.canadianlawyermag.com/news/opinion/changing-the-conversation/326240
Thank you for sharing this.
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