"Not Representative"

I like speaking out about trauma and lawyers' mental health. As someone directly affected, it's important to me to engage in this kind of advocacy.

That said, one thing I'm very aware of is that I definitely can't and don't speak for everyone, not even everyone who shares the same condition.

Initially I hesitated to speak at all for many reasons, including the fact that in many ways I'm not your "typical" traumatized person. I have some strengths that might not usually be expected and some limitations that others might not share. The things that help me often may not be the things that help others with my same condition, and the things I avoid may be the very things that many, if not most, embrace.

But then I realized that's all the more reason to share my perspective.

There is no such thing as a perfectly "typical" traumatized person. We may share some characteristics and tendencies in common but we each have our own strengths, quirks, stories, fears, circumstances, hopes, dreams, boundaries and limits. And even the things we have in common can manifest themselves in very different ways.

Which is why we need to share and hear as many perspectives as possible: not to crowd other voices out but to shatter stereotypes and make room for individuality and autonomy to be recognized.

So when I speak now I'm sharing my perspective as a challenge to rigid generalizations not to make room for others to be like me and follow along on the path I'm choosing to take, but to help make space for them to be whoever they truly are and wish to be.

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

Visibility

In my writing on trauma and mental illness, I've focused a lot on the need to avoid rigid generalizations. No matter how much we think we know right now, it's not enough. Something and someone is always being left out.

This is especially important because our knowledge about trauma and mental illness is particularly limited by problems with visibility.

In both directions. 

Some people affected by trauma and mental illness suffer an invisibility problem: no one allows them to be seen or speak for themselves about what they've experienced. To fit in, they have to hide who they are. Others may suffer from an excess of visibility: all privacy is lost due to the manner in which their trauma and/or mental illness manifests itself (and/or how others view and portray their circumstances/behaviour). Many may suffer from a combination of both: they may have diminished visibility in some important ways while also having to endure a lack of privacy in others.

So any effort to attend to the impact and implications of trauma and/or mental illness must be accompanied by an ongoing and active commitment to humility. Rather than having engrained opinions about what the "essence" of trauma and mental illness is,  and what the traumatized and mentally ill need or are capable of based on what we have been able to see (through our own experiences and what we've seen from others), we need to start by learning to listen and maintain an openness about what we don't and can't yet know.

Even the experts are subject to those limits, in my view, since this is an area in which many people never come forward for treatment and/or may never feel safe fully sharing their perspectives and experiences even if they do. The available methods to study such things are also subject to all kinds of limits and biases. There is much we can learn but there is also so much humility required.

That's why I am allergic to generalizations. Yes, there's a lot that we can learn from science and "experts" and we probably can't avoid tentatively generalizing based on the knowledge we've managed to gain so far, but if we aren't also being cautious and flexible about what might be being left out--what might be rendered invisible and/or excessively/distortedly visible based on the way the questions have so far been asked and studied--then we will be causing more harm than good.

So the starting point (and constant touchstone) must be to pay attention to and truly empower those with lived experience. And that means a real act of listening for the ways in which particular survivors and communities wish to be seen and heard. It means no one story is enough. And we are never finished. Everything is subject to revision when a new perspective gets included.

This is why I've found social media so helpful. I've made a choice to follow people speaking out about their own lived experience. I have a lot in common with some and a very different experience than others. Throughout any given day, I learn so much by hearing directly from those who share their stories and perspectives in a way that would otherwise never have occurred to me.

I've also made a point of trying to read more memoirs and non-fiction directly from those affected. Being able to empathize with those who are differently situated takes conscious effort and attention.

It's just a beginning and sometimes we humans don't do too well with having to be at the beginning of things. We want to rush to the punchline and distill the lesson to be learned. We want our generalizations to live by and share.

There's a lot we can learn when we slow down and actively resist the propensity to generalize. Rather than learn big lessons about what we all need or what works for everyone, we can just learn about and from each other first about how we each see ourselves and our own needs. Good things can happen when we don't rush in a hurried stampede to the finish line. We can slow down and try to ensure that everyone can remain in the race. We may not know yet exactly what we are or should be moving towards, but at least we can try our best to remain together and leave no one behind.

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