Trauma and Lawyers’ Mental Health: January 2020

Wednesday, January 29, 2020

"Above and Beyond"

There's a trend in the legal profession (and others, I'm sure) when praise and accolades are being given out.

Typically those singled out for awards, extra benefits, and compliments are those who go "above and beyond." They do more than what's required, and have a "work ethic" beyond that of their colleagues (even when their colleagues are doing all that's required of them at a very demanding pace).

I'm sure a lot has already been said about this. I know I'm not the first to say we need to think carefully about the standard we're setting, and the impact it may have on employee and workplace wellness, when people feel they have to strive to put in superhuman efforts to fit in.

Let's assume for a moment that these "above and beyond-ers" are in fact superheroes. They can do it all without sacrificing their health or risking burnout. They consistently do more. Of course, this is worthy of some recognition but should it be the gold standard?

What message does it send to everyone else when this is the standard of greatness to which others are told to aspire? What is the impact on diversity, equality and inclusion initiatives when those who can do "more" than what is required consistently rise to the top? Who is being left out and/or overburdened? How can those who already carry greater burdens to begin with (due to disability or other systemic barriers) keep up without damaging their own health and/or sacrificing the other things that are important to them?

Wouldn't those who have to work less hard in the first place to meet the "required standard" find it easier to then go "above and beyond" it? Wouldn't those who have to use exceptional efforts simply to overcome barriers to their inclusion find it more difficult, if not impossible, to maintain that 110% standard. Why isn't 100% enough?

Diversity and inclusion are relevant to merit too, particularly when "justice" is the whole goal of the enterprise. Shouldn't any accurate assessment of merit need to recognize the people that give 110% just to meet the required standard without visibly going "above and beyond" it?

So here are a couple ideas for recognition that could enhance workplace wellness, diversity, equality and inclusion, which in my view would also enhance productivity overall since it would enable everyone to function better rather than encourage everyone to unrealistically chase a few standouts:

-The ability to maintain boundaries: Lawyer X went home every day at a reasonable hour, and resisted the pressure so evident among her peers to compete for highest standing in a way that put her own well-being at risk. She thereby demonstrated excellent judgment and strength of character, qualities that any organization should prize...

The ability to overcome adversity: Lawyer Y faced considerably more adversity/barriers in his life than his peers did. Yet he still made it to the same level and gives 100%....

Instead of expecting employees to go above and beyond, why not start putting that burden on employers to go "above and beyond" for employee well-being, and for the values the organization stands for?

Bottom line: let's remember all the other ways in which people can be "heroes," as I've written here.

Note: I'm not saying that those who face barriers are the ones who don't go above and beyond. In fact, the feeling may be ingrained in many of them that they need to do so, since they had to work so much harder to get to this level in the first place. They may already be suffering from "imposter syndrome" (which I wrote a bit about my perception of in my own case here) as a result and feel a need to work harder than everyone else just to keep their place. It's time we eased the burden a bit and allowed 100% to be enough.

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, January 25, 2020

Stereotyping the Mentally Ill as Inherently Problematic

This is going to be a bit of a lazy post since I'm almost done my coffee and need to start my day. So I'm just going to point to something I see as a problem and then maybe flesh it out later.

Speaking only for myself, I'm so tired of mental health initiatives that emphasize the "business case" for improving mental health in the workplace (or any other environment).

In the typical formulation of this, reasons are given why the "problem" of mental health needs to be addressed. Poor mental health, we're told, can cause decreased productivity, increased conflict/negativity/risk of error,....or whatever (implicitly insert every ill of society here) 🙄.

Certainly, there's some genuine good in these initiatives. Of course, increased mental wellness is a critically important goal. I personally would love it if our profession did a better job of supporting and prioritizing our collective and individual health. As someone with significant vulnerabilities, these initiatives would benefit me greatly by allowing a quality of life this profession has not afforded me before. I need and want them to happen. So if we want to encourage wellness-promoting initiatives, that's great. I'll cheer them on.

But in doing so, let's watch our language and check our stereotypes at the door. I don't care how great the initiatives are. I don't care how much people see "incremental change" as the only realistic goal and are therefore willing to advocate for them in whatever language gets corporate entities to pay attention: it's not okay to pursue these initiatives in a way that devalues a diverse group of people.

I've made the point so many times in different contexts, but I'm going to keep repeating it until it is understood: mental health is an incredibly broad ideal. Mental illness can manifest itself in a gazillion different ways, some of which bear no resemblance to each other. My mental illness can result in one behaviour, while my colleague's illness can result in an exactly opposite behaviour. Even with the same mental health condition, sometimes the actual manifestations in external behaviour can be as different as night and day. One person might consistently throw herself into her work, becoming a compulsive reliable over-achiever (resulting in awards for giving 110%), while another could withdraw and feel paralyzed by a fear of failure (resulting in a drop in productivity).

Consequently, ANY generalization you want to make about the impact of having unaddressed mental illness in the workplace is going to cause me to raise my eyebrows, roll my eyes, and tune you out 🙄. I'm going to be especially irritated if this is done in a way to cast the mentally ill as inherently problematic. So just don't do it, please.

Also, when mental illness is characterized as inherently problematic, let's not be surprised when the "high-achieving" people who suffer from it (but are capable of concealing their suffering) don't feel comfortable seeking help and/or speaking out. When we overemphasize the "negative" ways in which mental illness can manifest itself, we make it less safe for those who are high-achievers to reveal themselves as suffering. We also leave their suffering unaddressed since the unique ways in which they are suffering may or may not be captured by the "business case" aimed at rooting out "problematic" manifestations of illness. By targeting only the suffering that affects productivity, we fail to address the situation of those whose suffering may not affect the bottom line (and may in fact enhance it).

At the very same time as we say we are trying to "stop the stigma" we therefore reinforce it by overemphasizing the "problems" caused by mental illness in the workplace while de-emphasizing or failing to acknowledge altogether the benefits to a workplace of including those with mental illness (given the many strengths those who have experienced mental illness have demonstrated and the contributions they are capable of making).

And if those who can conceal their illness do so because of stigmatizing stereotypes, the supposed data we have on the risks of mental illness in the workplace will be unreliable. Mental illness in the workplace will become visible only when it can't be hidden: when it has in fact had a negative impact. Our negative stereotypes will therefore be self-reinforcing, resulting in incomplete data about the impact of mental illness in the workplace.

Further, when eradication of a problem is the goal, it puts inclusion at risk. I can't be the only one who fears that bottom-line-focused employers who are being told they need to improve mental health because mental illness in the workplace is just so incredibly problematic in umpteen different ways may also see a "business case" in seeking to avoid hiring people with past or present mental illness, or vulnerability to developing one so as to cut the "problem" off at the source. It also can't be surprising then when regulatory bodies point to the stereotype-infused data about the negative impacts of mental illness in the workplace to justify measures that further dehumanize the mentally ill by forcing them to disclose their mental health histories (as if such histories render them inherently problematic for the profession) and then demand them to jump through extra hoops (surrendering privacy about deeply personal matters in the process) to prove their worth even if they have never done anything wrong and have achieved everything required of them to make it to that point in their careers. This further dehumanizes and stigmatizes the mentally ill and makes those who can hide/deny that they suffer from illness more inclined to do so rather than seek the help they need.

So yes let's address the benefits of promoting mental health in the workplace. But let's NEVER do it on the basis of stereotypes and questionable data. Let's critically examine every assumption we make before we make any case for any initiatives. Let's acknowledge the lengthy and ongoing history in our society of dehumanizing and discriminating against the mentally ill, depriving them of their autonomy, and devaluing their strengths, thereby forcing many to hide their suffering. Let's adopt a stance of radical humility to reflect that history. Let's stop making assumptions ("evidence-based" or not, since the "evidence" is going to be incomplete/inadequate since many hide their illness and don't seek help) and start actually listening to what people tell us about their experiences, strengths, vulnerabilities and contributions. In other words, let's embark on a process of discovery, rather than assume we know the terrain in advance.

Instead of pointing to why mental illness needs to be reduced/eradicated, let's change the script. Let's discuss why people with all manner of states of mental health on a broad spectrum deserve to be treated holistically as individuals with diverse strengths, needs and vulnerabilities. Instead of talking only about the "problem" of mental illness, let's emphasize the benefits of including those who have so much to offer who might otherwise be excluded.

I referenced at the outset that this was a lazy post. I'm not citing evidence for my claims. My mental health condition was hidden (including from myself) for a long time. When it became evident that I needed to address it, I felt incredible fear about the implications of doing so (the stereotypes and discrimination to which I would be subjected) that nearly held me back from seeking a diagnosis and professional support. I'm therefore keenly aware of how many people suffer in silence and never get to be included in the "data" about mental illness in a professional environment. The data is flawed, and I'm not that interested in hearing about it until those who resort to it adopt a sufficiently humble and critical stance in relation to it.

None of the above was intended to detract from the fact that mental illness can indeed cause real and heartbreaking problems for many people, especially in a society that does not provide adequate support and validation for those who have different needs and strengths due to mental illness. Those whose function declines as a result of mental illness deserve to be treated compassionately and we should do all we can to support them. But we should never see ourselves as doing so to rid ourselves of a "problem." We should do so because we care about supporting those human beings in our midst, and acknowledge that despite their suffering they have real value. In doing so we should also be prepared to acknowledge that perhaps, more often than we think, the suffering individuals aren't the "problems" at all. Rather the problem is a system designed not to support and include them.

Note added afterwards: I’m not saying that no “business case” can or should ever be made, but that it should never be done by drawing on discriminatory stereotypes. We can identify a fair and proper “business case” only upon ensuring we aren’t relying on stereotypes. Any "business case" should include a recognition of the rights and strengths of the mentally ill, not just a one-sided focus on the ways in which poor mental health can sometimes undermine workplace objectives. It should also never take precedence over a proper rights-based discussion that doesn't leave it up to individual workplaces to decide whether they will properly accommodate their employees' mental health. Deciding whether to be inclusive and provide a safe working environment shouldn't be framed as a choice left up to individual workplaces.

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, January 18, 2020

We Can Be Heroes

Mental health issues are common in our society, as is trauma.

But, for the most part, we don't talk about them in a way that allows them to be real for us.

Often we don't allow ourselves to name them, even when they're clearly affecting us and/or those around us.

Instead, we grope around in the darkness as quietly as we can, hiding from them. We don't want to have to see them. We feel somehow that if we allow ourselves to acknowledge them as real, they'll be more likely to get us, or perhaps we will have no choice then but to face the fact that we are already in their grips.

And if they do get us (as they sadly often eventually do), sometimes we don't want others to know it, since maybe those around us will fearfully avoid us then too. Maybe the darkness will have tainted us for them, leading them to fear seeing things in us that they then won't be able to un-see in their own lives and selves. Maybe they'll fear that the contours and colours of their world will be forever changed by the experience.

For me, a world that many others never allow themselves to see has been within my view for a very long time. It wasn't just hidden in darkness. It had contours, details, sounds, smells, and colors, unmistakably different from the ordinary day-to-day lives that many others seemed to have had.

Even when I was able to partake in the ordinary world of "normal" "successful" people, the vivid details and sensations of that other world I'd seen never left me. Even when I was coping well, its shadows pursued me.

While I was learning how to be a lawyer, and then surviving the pressures of practice, I was also continuing to fight that battle. I never stopped having to navigate the hellscape of that other world while still functioning in the everyday world of lawyers (although sometimes I managed to make it less visible to myself, so I could live in denial of its influence, even while expending considerable internal resources to do so).

I became an expert in its dangers, landscape, hiding places, etc. My expertise-by-experience was never enough to enable me to fully escape it, but I learned how not to let it destroy me. I developed my own tips and techniques that worked for me at the time, and adapted them over and over whenever they failed.

In some ways I felt "weak" because I was experiencing something others around me seemed not to have to deal with. And if some of them were dealing with it, we weren't allowed to talk about, thereby preventing us from knowing who around us might understand what we were going through. The silence thereby promoted our further isolation.

Yet in other ways, somewhat selfishly, I felt frustrated because no one knew how strong I really was. I never got any credit for the battles I'd survived. Yet when I was too tired from my dual fight (my professional activities and my other struggle) and needed to take a break from my everyday activities, I would appear "defeatist" in the eyes of many others. Sometimes I laughed when friends called me this (because I wasn't up for learning how to bake or something). They had no clue what I'd been through or why I had to be selective about what non-essential activities I would take on, why my energy was depleted and I needed to get rest by sacrificing what wasn't absolutely necessary for my personal or professional survival.

Now I'm speaking out and refusing to acquiesce in being seen that way. Call me weak or defeatist if you'd like. Call me attention-seeking and whiny. I have no doubt many still will and I would be lying if I said it won't still sting and the resulting isolation won't still get to me, but for my part I refuse to allow that narrative to be imposed on me any longer.

In and of itself, that refusal to acquiesce can be a powerful act of defiance.

I haven't learned how to use that newfound power yet in a way that I'm confident will help others, but that's my goal.

Here are the ways I think we can use our power (once we are ready to claim it) to be "heroes:"

By showing others who may be affected that they're not alone or "crazy." They aren't the only ones who see and are affected by another world that those in the mainstream don't acknowledge, whatever it may be. They are part of a team.
By showing others that they don't have to see themselves as "weak." Just the opposite is true in fact. Permission to give that other world a name and a reality is permission to claim our victories as well as our defeats. Some of us have fought battles greater than most can imagine yet are stuck in a surface reality that gives those success stories (and the strength involved in them) no meaningful recognition. Being able to finally be seen for who we are can be a huge source of strength, as well as a tremendous gift we can give to others when we make space for them to do so as well.
By sharing what we have learned about strength and survival in those other worlds with others. If others will listen, we have expertise that could help save the world. Unlike fictional superheroes, many of us have fought battles that are real and what we learned from those battles (the tips/techniques etc. that helped us survive) could help others fight their own (provided we understand that everyone's battles will be different in some ways, so what we share can assist, but may need to be adapted/altered to suit others' unique challenges).
By showing others that there's someone they can connect to who "gets it," a source of solidarity/community/strength. The more of us that do this, the more strength there will be. We can start reclaiming our narratives on a grander scale and not only refuse to be branded as weak, but demand that our stories be seen holistically and that others stop "looking away" from what we have survived. We can have a place to celebrate our amazing accomplishments, the ones the world has refused to see, let alone honour.
By helping those who have no idea what we've been through, who may be fortunate enough to have lived a genuinely sheltered existence. We can do this by sharing our wisdom and strengths in a way that can be adapted to meet the challenges of the everyday world too (if only they'd finally be willing to listen to us and recognize the value what we can share/teach). Side-note: this is why so many of us are so damn competent at our jobs and why it is laughable to me when those with old-school attitudes suggest we may not belong amidst the pressures of the profession. Obviously we have to manage our load so we don't carry more than what is humanly possible (in addition to what we already have carried/are carrying), but we wouldn't have made it this far if we didn't have extraordinarily good judgment, strength, power and wisdom. That alone should earn us trust and respect, and displace any presumption of incompetence or "weakness." So let's rise up and make sure those calling the shots understand that....

The above is not to pressure any who aren't ready and/or may never want to take on such a task in addition to the burdens they're already managing. By definition, those of us who have made it this far are already doing more than enough. Surviving is enough. Nothing more is owed. But for those for whom taking action and speaking out can be a source of strength and power, it's there for us when we are ready to claim it.

What I envision when I try in my small way to help make space for others who may also be ready to speak is a world in which those who have suffered are given the space and the platform to share what they've learned. In doing so, they can be heroes in so many ways: paving the way for others; bringing light to dark corners of worlds we've previously refused to even acknowledge that so many of us are caught in; forging paths through dense bush so others can follow more easily; providing maps and guidance for others who are lost to find places to escape or take shelter....

Those of us outwardly functioning well can show that it's possible to succeed in the more conventional sense even while struggling with those other worlds, while those who have been "broken" or "damaged" (temporarily or permanently) can show that there's no shame in being affected by forces more powerful than us all--no shame in being human and vulnerable. The beautiful humanity in all kinds of stories can be honoured, celebrated, and--when necessary--mourned.

Most important of all, not only can we become heroes in this way, we can also finally become visible for the heroes we already are.

(For those who need a greater source of inspiration than my feeble words, here is Peter Gabriel's version of "Heroes:" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LsvuipGq2ns )

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, January 11, 2020

Imposter

There's a lot of discussion about imposter syndrome in the legal profession.

I've been reflecting on it a lot lately because in some ways it fits me. But here's what I've realized: I don't have imposter syndrome. I'm actually an imposter.

The feeling that I don't belong in this profession doesn't come from some syndrome. It isn't a problem with my perception.

I don't belong in this profession because this profession wasn't designed for people like me to (1) exist (2) show who we are; and (3) be accepted, supported and appreciated for it.

So how to change this? Is the answer just to say "Be yourself!" "Don't let the profession dictate who you can be."

Um, sure, okay, maybe to some extent, and I'm certainly trying now more than ever, but let's get real.

Being able to be ourselves in an environment that requires interaction with other people doesn't just depend on us being authentic. It depends on those other people being willing to put the effort in to engage with us as such.

For those of us with background experiences and personal circumstances that significantly differ from the "norm" (the default assumptions about who we are or might be), this requires time, sensitivity and attention from those around us. In many instances, they will have to put in the effort to learn about us (by learning more about us as individuals and/or learning more about the groups to which we do or might belong) to truly see us because we are not generally visible as who we are. This would need to happen not only on an individual level in personal interactions but also on a systemic one so the structures/culture of the profession support us in being our true selves (or at least don't force us to surmount endless obstacles just to participate), and thereby allow us to truly belong (rather than pretend to fit in).

One complication for those of us with trauma histories is that it may not always be possible or feasible for us to truly share much, if anything, about what's going on with us, even when it affects our vital interests. I call it "the curse of being complicated" and plan to elaborate on it in a future post. Briefly, being inherently complicated for me means I can't share really important things that shape my perspective because (1) others often don't feel comfortable hearing them and erect boundaries to protect themselves from me simply sharing who I am and what I've been through. Maybe they think it's too personal or just "too much" for them to handle hearing (as I wrote about here); (2) It's complicated and couldn't be explained quickly or easily--it would require time and effort on others' part to hear it; and (3) It's highly personal so I may not feel comfortable sharing it all, and there may be personal consequences to me for doing so. I described some of the barriers to sharing our stories here and here.

Yet keeping it private (i.e., remaining invisible) has real consequences, since our needs, challenges, vulnerabilities and strengths may not be possible to understand properly without knowing what we have endured, have overcome, and are still facing. When those highly personal aspects of ourselves have become injured, it can damage us in so many ways, not the least of which (for me at least) is by isolating us from others who don't understand and aren't prepared to make the effort to learn about what we have been through.

So how do we address "imposter syndrome?" I don't know the answer, but we could start by asking about the extent to which it reflects something real rather than imagined. If we don't feel we belong, is it because we are in an environment that actually doesn't truly permit us to exist and thrive as who we are?

Maybe there are things we can do individually to minimize its impact on us, but let's not pretend we have individual control over it when we often don't. For "imposter reality" the only way to heal the feeling of not belonging is to change the profession itself so it allows people like us to truly be ourselves while also having our needs met and our contributions supported and respected.

So, no I don't have imposter syndrome. I am an imposter. I often have to pretend to be someone I'm not in order to function here. Even when I don't actively pretend, the invisible forces and default assumptions kick in to cover who I truly am.

I'd love for us all to get to know each other and start being our authentic selves, but that isn't something that's just going to happen through individual efforts. It isn't just a syndrome we each can cure.

So let's start talking, listening, strategizing and taking action so we can all have the benefit of belonging.

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: