Being Flexible With Each Other In Difficult Times: Let's Cool It With the Mandatory Videos

As someone who entered this profession in many ways as an outsider, I've never been fond of the rigid demands of etiquette and protocol in the legal profession. Most evolved when many of us were not welcome, and then acquired fixed status because they became part of the culture of our profession, its "tradition." Those who have a different perspective on what our shared culture and values might be are often silenced. Perhaps they just don't belong here if they don't respect the norms and values that have such a long rich history, even though no one similarly situated to them ever got a say in how those norms and values were identified and articulated.

Although I have deep respect for the role of the profession and the Courts, overly aristocratic notions of how a lawyer must appear and behave out of "respect" for the role and tradition of the profession have been a concern of mine from the very beginning. To me they far too often seem to be shallow bases to judge and shame each other for reasons that don't serve the true ends of the justice system. They often feel like superficial distractions that don't  reflect true merit, substance and integrity.

And often they can be harmful to those whose circumstances weren't considered or understood when they were created. In other words, far too often the burden of not being able to easily fit in with those visions of how a lawyer should look and act falls disproportionately at the feet of those who might not otherwise fit in as easily.

Enter the pandemic.

Suddenly our ways of doing things are indeed rapidly changing, at a time when we are in a situation that affects everyone (supposedly an "equalizer"), yet may have very different impacts depending on widely varying circumstances. This raises the potential to dramatically reinforce disparities if we proceed without sensitivity to this possibility.

Of course, it's a good thing that changes are being made to enable as many as possible of us to keep functioning both professionally and socially, but proceeding heedless of who may be adversely impacted by the new ways of doing things will risk those who already had the hardest time fitting in being the ones left out and/or harmed.

For instance, the sudden shift to expecting or even requiring people to participate in work, professional development, or social events via video (when the substance of what is being done doesn't truly require it) overlooks the many reasons why this may not be comfortable, possible or even safe for some. Not only do people have different comfort levels in this regard for good reason (at a time when a pandemic is triggering and intensifying existing mental health issues while also creating a risk for new ones), but people have very different spaces in which they are confined. It doesn't take a lot of imagination to appreciate that some people may be less comfortably situated than others. Some may have homes they are not comfortable sharing due to economic disadvantage, safety or privacy concerns (especially if they have had their personal space invaded or violated before and are therefore especially sensitive to those latter concerns). Some may not easily be able to find a visually acceptable private space due to the others who are in the home (perhaps the bedroom, as "unprofessional" as it may seem, is the only quiet space with sufficient internet connection for someone cohabiting with others who are using the other areas of the home). Some may not be able to ensure the privacy of the more vulnerable members of their home (e.g., very young children who have to be cared for even while work duties are performed). Some may have unsafe home environments with an ever-increasing level of tension due to the pandemic, e.g., with an unpredictable, dysfunctional and/or perhaps even abusive partner, and may therefore not feel safe or comfortable being visually available to their colleagues when they can't say for certain that their partner will be respectful of and allow them that video space.

The point is that people are in their homes enmeshed in all kinds of varying personal situations with all the heightened vulnerability which that may entail. Whatever their circumstances may be, it's none of the profession's business. It's never been our obligation to maintain our home and personal lives a certain way to be allowed to participate professionally, or to share those circumstances in a work context. Nor was there any chance to arrange our lives differently in anticipation of this sudden change in circumstances. Moreover, this doesn't simply affect lawyers (though I speak from that perspective); it has the potential to affect other participants (e.g., staff/litigants).

And to the extent that the privacy of those video sessions may not be assured (with some even being deliberately streamed and/or posted online), then an even wider array of well-being and safety considerations may arise (e.g., for those who have been targeted by others in the past and whose safety may actually be threatened by suddenly being forced into that kind of a wide-reaching public space unlike ever before with no opportunity to mitigate those dangers, or whose past fears in that regard may be triggered even if their actual safety may not currently be at risk as it was in the past) at a time when many are already especially emotionally vulnerable due to the isolation, confinement and fear caused by the pandemic.

Perhaps the answer is that those who can't suitably meet the requirements will just have to suck it up and expose themselves to the health risks involved in physically attending the workspace. After all, we will then have accommodated as many people as possible, and if there are some who don't quite "fit" our way of doing things, who can't meet those requirements, then unfortunately that's just unavoidable and they will not get the accommodations of which those who are better-situated can avail themselves.

My view: this can't be the answer either, at least not completely.

Yes, keeping the profession moving is a good thing, and, yes, those who work in essential areas may unfortunately be called upon to work in ways that aren't ideal, but shouldn't we first ask ourselves what's truly necessary before we force those who are already potentially the most marginalized within our professional spaces to be the ones who have to endure the greatest risks and disadvantages in order to maintain their ability to participate in the midst of a global crisis? Shouldn't we be minimally invasive rather than press ahead with one rigid way of doing things just because it is "preferred" by those who don't have the concerns and constraints that those others may? Shouldn't it matter that those most disproportionately impacted by more rigid and invasive requirements may be those who have already been most excluded?

Also from a public health perspective, shouldn't we do what's necessary to ensure that even those who are less ideally situated can remain at home so they needn't put public health at risk by venturing out into the workplace?

Perhaps the "insiders" in the profession don't realize the extent to which many "outsiders" already have to sacrifice so much of their comfort, well-being and perhaps even safety on a regular basis simply to navigate and fit within the existing culture, protocols and etiquette that were not informed very much if at all by their input or experiences.

And due to the failure to appreciate that reality, those "insiders" may also fail to appreciate how readily mandatory protocols and norms that may "only" have been oppressive before can quickly become crushing when the context suddenly shifts and they become more invasive, taking away the little bits of privacy and/or dignity some of us were able to hold onto before: collapsing our private lives, our personal spaces, our control over our own image, our ability to do what needs to be done to get through the day in our own way in the absence of prying eyes when the personal and professional unexpectedly collide.

So how should we do this? This is all happening so quickly. I get it. It's tough. Keeping things going is important. We can't do the kind of consultation and planning that (one would hope) would be done if major changes were contemplated in ordinary circumstances to assess the unintended impacts new procedures may have on wellness, safety, equality, diversity and inclusion. So here are my suggestions for how we should proceed in the meantime:

• Flexibility should be the rule: this is new territory for everyone. We can't imagine all the varying ways in which those around us may be affected and we need to recognize it may not be safe or comfortable for them to tell us. So new procedures whenever possible should allow for maximum flexibility without the need for explanation. For instance, if video meetings etc. are happening, then there should be options available for everyone to participate in a way that feels comfortable and safe to them without any questions or obstacles. That means allowing an audio only option (unless it's a situation where credibility is at stake and we truly have reason why we must see people's faces, as opposed to simply preferring to do so). This also means ensuring an option of adding a blank or false background so participants needn't invite us into their personal space. This further means ensuring the privacy of the recording to the greatest extent possible because we have no way of knowing the ways in which people's health and safety may be affected by a sudden change in how widely distributed their personal image is, and a global pandemic isn't the time to force people to have to also suddenly adapt to having to surrender their privacy to a far greater extent than ever before, with all the health and safety concerns this may involve. It means minimizing judgments and criticisms about the circumstances in which people "appear" (the bedroom may be all that's available; someone's only two or three suits may be at the office--so be it. It's time to get over rigid and harsh judgments and just focus on substance). Generally it means pro-actively expressing an openness to participants being able to raise concerns or delay non-essential matters if the available options aren't comfortable or safe for them.  

• Input should be sought from potential participants before procedures are developed and on an ongoing basis: there is no way those making these decisions are magically intuitively aware of all the diverse ways in which people may be affected by a proposed new way of doing things. A willingness to listen, learn and adapt is essential: we must have the humility to realize that any proposed procedures will have unintended consequences for those who are differently situated. Input should be sought (with the understanding that not everyone may currently feel safe and comfortable providing it, which is why flexibility is so important).

• We need to use our empathy and imagination rather than assume everyone is similarly situated: not everyone has a nice den in which to set up a camera, a large home in which it's possible to carve out visually private space, and a sense of comfort and safety to feel okay about inviting colleagues and other participants into their private life in an unprecedented way. Before creating procedures based on a set of assumptions about what this will involve for participants, some empathic imagination needs to be employed. What about those who are economically marginalized and have very limited space? What about those who disproportionately end up with the burden of care-taking obligations of dependents? What about those who are especially vulnerable and whose sense of safety and perhaps even actual safety may be jeopardized by suddenly having to surrender their privacy during an already vulnerable situation in an unprecedented invasive way? What obstacles might be in place that could prevent those who have concerns from raising them? How can we be flexible and compassionate to avoid disproportionately harming, burdening, and excluding those who have already been most marginalized? 

Deliberately exercising caution as we decide which norms and values must remain rigid and which can be flexible is more essential than ever, unless we want this pandemic to render our procedures even less inclusive than they were before. Yes, we are used to seeing each other's lovely faces, and surely it's "preferable" to continue to be able to do so. But as we've witnessed, this unprecedented situation requires us to rapidly do things differently than we have in the past. Our judgments about which things should be rigid and which should be flexible could have serious repercussions for the equality, inclusion, well-being, and even safety of those involved at a time when those affected are limited in their ability to share their concerns. Let's be as flexible as we can. Those of us who still have the option of working are lucky and I realize that there may be countervailing considerations to some of what I've expressed above which also need to be considered. But unless we want those who are "fortunate" enough to be able to keep working to be disproportionately composed of those who were most privileged and "fortunate" to begin with, we need to start showing some flexibility, compassion, and a willingness to rethink our impulses about how things "must" be done.

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

This Isn't A Coping Contest

Yikes, the world sure is falling apart, isn't it? Or maybe not? Maybe this is a time for many of us to reflect and rise stronger with a better relationship to ourselves, improved connections to (and/or boundaries with) family, friends and colleagues, increased appreciation for and protection of the natural world and our place as humans within it, etc.,etc....

The wisdom on offer out there seems boundless and overwhelming. To be honest, I'm personally not up for most of it. I don't mean to belittle those who are seeking answers, and finding them. There's nothing wrong with that and I admire it. Whatever works to help anyone cope is totally okay, as I wrote here.

I see many people proclaiming how past adversity has taught them to cope now and I don't doubt it. Some of us have endured serious long-lasting trauma and adversity before. Some of us have lived with anxiety for a long time, and may nevertheless have managed to be high-functioning. We have tried and true coping mechanisms that helped us get through those experiences and will help us get through this too...right?

Again, I have no problem with this either. Some of us are uniquely equipped to handle a situation like this. Old coping mechanisms and ways of surviving are at the ready, and spring into action.

So if that describes you, great. One thing I've written about (here) before the pandemic was how those who have survived trauma and adversity can be "heroes" by helping to guide others. That resilience is not illusory. It's real and if you have it to draw on right now, you have every right to be proud and tell the world about it.

But, on the other hand, at least for me, my superhero-trauma-coping-abilities are double-edged. They come with a heavy cost. As I've written before many times, my experience of trauma includes great strength/knowledge (which can help me to cope sometimes like a superhero), but also deep vulnerability (which can make a time like this even more difficult for me than it may be for others who don't share that preexisting vulnerability).

For a long time, I tried to emphasize my strengths to the exclusion of my vulnerabilities. Because I demanded it of myself--and because my profession seemed to demand it of me (as I wrote here). I wasn't even always aware that I was doing it. In many ways, I acknowledged my own vulnerabilities more than many of my friends and colleagues. It's not like I pretended to be superwoman, but I wasn't prepared to fully face (and feel) the ways in which I was especially suffering and vulnerable, and there was a cost to this, as I explained here. That cost resulted in me putting my life on hold for a long time, and I don't know to what extent I'll ever be able to recover from what I lost as a result.

But a year ago, I decided that had to change. I was never going to heal (or even continue to manage) if I didn't find a way to truly face my suffering: the ways in which I wasn't always (or at least wasn't only) a hero, or an ultra-resilient tough-as-steel warrior. I was also a vulnerable human being. No amount of resilience and heroism can change the fact that as humans we have great vulnerability in the face of terrible situations and events.True coping, for me at least, is inherently uncomfortable sometimes, because it has to embrace and balance those two sides of the equation and the ways they have played out for me in my own life.

I was in the process of learning to embrace, or at least face, my vulnerability. That meant admitting that I had a problem (without surrendering my understanding of the ways in which I was and remained strong) and seeking help in ways that felt safe and right to me. It was a journey I began more than a year ago that I knew wouldn't be easy. I'd been putting it off for so long for a reason: because there would be no quick fixes, and it would render me extra-vulnerable at times as I proceeded along it.

I didn't want magic pills that made the pain, shame and intense experience of my own vulnerability disappear. I wanted to do the hard work because my feeling was (and remains) that the only way to truly reconcile my strength with my suffering/vulnerability is to walk that difficult path of truly facing something that has the potential to overwhelm me--albeit carefully and with support.

Enter the pandemic: at a time when I hadn't finished that journey. I was just at the beginning and had important steps that were imminent and have now been put on hold indefinitely.

So now what? Do I launch into my tried and true coping methods, many of which require me to set aside the keen sense of my own vulnerability that my healing journey required me to face because maybe now it's just too much for me on top of everything else? I've done that before and could perhaps do it again and be really good at it.

I fear the consequences of doing so, but maybe it's necessary. I really don't know.

It's why my greatest fear, given where I am in my own journey right now, is "over-coping," and losing the connection to my own suffering and vulnerability that is so essential for me to heal. I don't want to be so vulnerable that I succumb to the added pressure and stress, but I also don't want to lose the benefit of those hard-earned steps I've taken and backslide to a point where true healing becomes even more distant. I'm not sure if it's a road I can start on again anytime soon if I lose the fragile-seeming progress I had made.

So all that is just to say that for me coping is a complicated concept. I've heard some say that those who have experienced trauma and mental health issues seem to be coping "better" and that's entirely possible in many cases. Yet it's also undeniably true that many who have experienced trauma are not coping "better" and it's not necessarily because they aren't as strong or advanced in their resilience. If this pandemic had happened at a different stage in my life, at a less advanced (for me) stage of healing, I likely would have coped heroically with it. Yet now it's highly triggering. That's not to say those who are coping well are less advanced. Some may have truly done the hard work of healing and have learned important lessons to help them endure this and are in a genuinely good place.

But for me healing doesn't mean not being incredibly vulnerable to events of massive significance like a global pandemic. It means finding the right balance between my strength and vulnerability both as an individual and as a human (the vulnerability inherent in being a human in a world filled with dangers we often can't control). It means strengthening the parts of me that allow me to be both strong and vulnerable. It is not a destination but a lifelong process that can sometimes be very painful and difficult.

My complicated past gives me important tools to help me succeed in being resilient in the face of great danger but also renders me especially vulnerable in many ways. The key to my own "resilience" (a word I've learned to kind of hate, though I understand it works for many others) has been to try to maintain an ongoing curiosity about where I am on that spectrum and try to find ways of coping that don't erase one side of the equation in favour of the other. I've learned that sometimes when I think I'm coping like a superhero, I'm really just numbing myself to the reality of the situation in ways that may serve me now but might not serve me later. If it helps, great. There's no inherently wrong way to survive in the face of a dangerous situation. But it's also okay to abandon a method of coping if the cost is too great.

All the above is really just a long-winded way for me to say that regardless of where you are on the spectrum--feeling strong and coping well, or intensely suffering and feeling especially vulnerable--it doesn't mean that you're doing it wrong or less advanced than someone who might be handling it differently.  We're not competing with others or with ourselves. To state just a few possibilities: Some of us will learn important lessons from this. Some of us may just go into a sort of numbed-out state to get by and maybe unlearn some of the lessons we thought we knew before. Some of us will go back and forth between over-coping and feeling overwhelmed.

I have no idea what the answer is for me. Quite frankly it changes daily. It's also entirely possible that I'm overthinking it (something I'm told I'm prone to) and I'd be better off proceeding more on instinct.

But all I want to say is: it's not a contest. One thing I know from my own history is that I can never tell how well I've coped, or how "resilient" I've been, until more time has elapsed and I can see the role a particular response played in my overall journey. There may be a science to it, but many of us don't know what that is, and it probably differs for those of us who are differently situated. So let's just do the best we can, with an open mind about what works and doesn't, so we can retain the flexibility to adapt our approach as the weeks become months, and once we are ready to emerge from this and rebuild.

If you're doing great and baking more bread than you could ever hope to eat, that's great. If you're feeling intensely triggered, maybe even falling apart, and need to reach out for help from friends and/or professionals, that's okay too. It may be exactly what you need to get through this.

Wishing everyone well in their particular journey,
Crystal

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

Whatever Works (Allowing for Flexibility in Difficult Times)

I've found it really difficult to think about what I might write in this blog in view of what's been going on in the world right now.

Just at a time when I was finally working on the difficult process of thinking about my own healing and moving towards important treatment options (that would have involved cross border travel), the world fell apart.

I feel deep sadness for everyone affected right now, including those who, like me, were finally starting to face their own trauma and/or mental health in a meaningful way for the first time only to have the ground beneath their (and the entire world's) feet shift in an unprecedented way.

Or maybe some weren't quite ready yet, and the trauma of what's been going on in the world has forced the issue. Emotions may be surfacing that feel uncontrollable, and the links between current and past experiences may be harder to ignore at a time when the options for addressing the issues may seem less obvious and accessible than ever.

This is a really difficult situation and I don't have the answers for anyone. There are mental health professionals still providing support in virtual ways along with self-help sources that may be of assistance to some, so I encourage people to explore those options to see if any feel right to them. Also, in-person services do still exist for health needs that require them, so if you need to avail yourself of those options, then you absolutely can still do so.

As for what I'm learning right now (which may or may not be of assistance to others), it's that my own emotional needs and responses have been shifting all over the place and the biggest error I could make for myself right now is to demand any consistent or unifying meaning to emerge from this at the moment. What I need right now is survival and more than anything what survival requires from me in a situation like this is flexibility.

Some days/hours/moments I feel numb. At other times anxious. Other times are characterized by depression/grief; others by frustration. Sometimes I'm just profoundly bored and lonely.

I need the flexibility to one day be annoyed by all the attempts to find meaning in this, while retaining the ability the very next day to focus on those very same questions and answers that irritated me the day before. I need the flexibility to think only about getting through each minute and hour one day, while then carefully planning and strategizing all possible future outcomes the next day. I need to be gentle on myself one day, set all "self-care" requirements aside and eat non-stop junk food, and then shift the next day into remembering how important it is for me to take care of my physical health for the sake of my mental health. For me at least, with an inner world that is already complex and ever-shifting, survival is in many ways more of an art than a science, now more than ever. The ground shifts faster than I can predict and plan for, so intuition is just as important as planning. Which is why flexibility is key. The approach I might need in any given moment might be the exact opposite of what I needed in the previous one, with no clear answer as to why. I need to be flexible and responsive and let go of the need to understand the why of it all before deciding and doing what needs to be done.

I'm not saying that we all should avoid trying to find meaning in this, or planning for what we need. In fact, I think that reflecting on what the meaning could be, and whatever lessons might be gleaned about our own needs, might be a very useful exercise for some of us some of the time, and certainly has always had great importance for me, including now. But I'm saying that for me at least I have to be careful not to demand a quick answer and a consistent meaning or plan from the situation right now by which I can guide myself. Why? Because the scale and scope of what is happening right now and what it triggers within me are of a magnitude that can't simply readily be formulated and digested into easily ascertainable guiding principles. For me flexibility is the answer right now. Planning and seeking meaning can be very helpful as long as I allow those processes to remain provisional/tentative, thereby maintaining room for flexibility and intuition as my needs, perception and understanding shift.

Before going to law school my background was in philosophy. There's a reason why the history of philosophy is complex and lacking in consensus. Finding the deeper meaning in things is not usually easy, especially in the face of a complicated crisis that calls into question all our previous assumptions. It may be asking too much of ourselves to use this situation to suddenly have perfect clarity about what the meaning of life is and what our core needs are. That doesn't mean the situation won't bring clarity on those issues for some of us. There are a lot of important realizations happening for many of us right now about what is of greater or lesser importance (maybe relating to first principles/key values re the importance of caring for each other as best we can, and connecting with and protecting the natural world), but synthesizing those into some consistent guide is often not easy, and it's okay not to have all the answers right now. Which is why I need to remind myself of the need to be gentle and flexible on those issues right now. Crises can help to clarify important deep questions but that doesn't mean the conditions are necessarily right to arrive at any clear, final or obvious answers.

If it helps you to reflect on what the meaning in all of this may be and how we might best emerge from this, then I'd suggest doing so. I'm doing a lot of that these days and sometimes it's helpful. But if the answers don't always come easy, that's okay. If the answer that seems so clear and obvious one day doesn't provide any strength or comfort the next day, that's okay too.

We have limits. Figuring out the meaning of life/humanity is a journey that can involve a complicated process of reflection and self-discovery that we might not all be ready for right now. So let's learn what we can from this, but also let's allow each other and ourselves to just get through it in whatever way we can. In whatever way works for us.

There will be a lifetime ahead for us to reflect on and uncover the meaning in it all. In the meantime, inconsistency is okay and for some of us maybe even life-saving. It's okay if we need to be a bit erratic and maybe even seem a little inconsistent and hypocritical at a time like this. The flexibility required for intuition and self-discovery during such a rocky time is a process that might take all kinds of twists/turns/bumps/pauses before showing any consistent thread/pattern. Just because immediate answers aren't readily available doesn't mean that we aren't progressing as we need to along a complicated, bumpy, topsy-turvy path.

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

Your Mental Health Needs Still Matter (Even in a Pandemic)

These are tough times. Most of us are doing what needs to be done, even though it's difficult for us. We do this to protect our fellow citizens, our society, and our own physical health. This is critically important and we need to keep doing it.

The reason we do this is because human health, safety and lives matter*. We do it because we care about people. For those of us who are not particularly physically vulnerable, we need to remember the oft-repeated words "it's not about us."

We are animated these days by a spirit of selflessness--a desire to care for others. This is wonderful and necessary in the circumstances. It can bring out the best in us: something beautiful and inspiring that we can harness to enhance our own individual and collective wellness. We can truly embrace the fact that every life matters, which can be an incredibly health-promoting and life-affirming realization for all of us.

But the laudable life-and-health-affirming "it's not about us" approach can also induce or intensify feelings of guilt, self-blame, and worthlessness with which so many of us with mental health challenges already struggle. When we hear rhetoric suggesting we have no right to complain about our feelings while others (e.g., those who have lost jobs or have been infected by the virus) are suffering in a more direct, socially visible and obvious way, it can belittle and undermine the very real and potentially very serious mental health challenges that many face. The "shut up and stop whining" rhetoric is dangerous, whether it comes from others, or whether (as it often does) it comes from that harsh inner voice that regularly torments us, even in ordinary times.

I'm writing this partly to try to remind myself, but mainly to reach out to others: we're taking these measures because everyone's health matters. And that includes each person's health, however it may be affected (whether physically and/or mentally).

As many advocates have been saying for a long time, mental health is health. Lives are at stake on that front too. Even for the lives that aren't lost, there can be serious long-term consequences for those whose mental health deteriorates. We need to do everything we can to protect the physical health of those in our society, while also protecting and nurturing mental health.

It's normal to be struggling right now. Many people who have never experienced a serious mental health issue may be at greater risk for one now, and those who have already experienced mental health challenges may find their symptoms resurfacing or intensifying in frightening ways. Yet now more than ever, some people might hesitate to seek the help they need, because things are scary and confusing and it may be difficult to figure out how to do so, or they may not wish to be "selfish" and be a burden on a healthcare system that is in the midst of a crisis.

So my message is that  caring for your own health is not a selfish act in times like these. The whole message of these times is that everyone's health matters. Everyone's life matters. Everyone's safety matters. No matter how isolated or vulnerable someone may be--we are ready to do what it takes to ensure that no one will be sacrificed.

If you can, please take a moment to let that life-affirming, universally compassionate message sink in. Everyone's health matters, and that includes yours.

In times like these, taking care of yourself is an affirmation of the very thing we are all trying to protect: the commitment to a belief that all lives matter and are worth protecting. Being real and gentle with yourself about the ways in which the current crisis may be affecting you is a necessary part of that commitment.

By staying home you are saving lives and protecting human health. By caring for yourself, monitoring your own health, and asking for help from others to help you maintain your well-being, you are also protecting human health. Not only is it okay for that to matter right now, it's everything.

Things are tough, which is why we need everyone to stay as healthy and safe as they can. It can be hard for those of us who struggle with feelings of guilt, shame, isolation and alienation to feel that we are included in that. There are no magic words I can write to take those terrible feelings away (for others or for myself).

All I can say is that the spirit of these difficult times conevys a message for us all: everyone matters. It might not be easy, but we are learning how connected we all are. If possible, please try not to disconnect yourself from the beauty of that message by devaluing your own life and wellness.

If you can take extra steps to help others, that is wonderful and praiseworthy and may even help you get through this difficult time. But if all you're able to do is protect others by following public health guidelines, you are already doing enough. You don't need to beat yourself up for not doing more, or for having the "wrong" feelings about the toll it's taking on you. You are already doing something heroic just by staying home. And, if you are caring for yourself while doing so, then that is heroic too because your life and health matter too.

To sum up my view of what I hope we can each do now:  (1) Stay home (unless needed to leave your home to do essential work or do truly essential things); (2) Survive and maintain your own health as best you can (physically and mentally); (3) If you can, try to remember why we are doing it--it's because every life matters; and  (4) If you can, please try to remember that includes you.

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*Anyone who knows me will know I also value animal health, safety and lives, so I specify human health not to exclude others, but to emphasize the point at issue in this current crisis

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 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

PTSD, Mental Health, and Pandemic-Related Chaos, Uncertainty, Fear

If you clicked on this post hoping for answers or insights, I'm afraid I'm not going to be able to provide any. It took me a long time to even be able to try to write something here because quite frankly I've mostly been feeling frozen and uncertain about what I might say.

Things are scary right now, and it's okay to be affected by that. In fact, I think it's critical that we  recognize those impacts and take them seriously. In accordance with the public health directions, most of us are, of course, (I hope) doing all we can to remain home unless absolutely necessary, and to take precautions when we absolutely must venture out for essentials. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't be able to acknowledge (and maybe even complain about) how incredibly painful and difficult this can be for everyone, and for some more than others.

Self-isolating and "social distancing" is difficult, especially for those who were already struggling with feeling alienated, isolated, and alone.

The messaging around this has often tended to assume that most people have safe comfortable homes, families and loved ones with whom to remain socially distant from those outside their "household." Often the message simple says: "Stay home with your family." But not everyone has family nearby, and/or a stable home, and, for some, more time with family and/or in their home environment is not healthy for a variety of reasons (including but not limited to abuse, unhealthy living conditions, and other pressures and strains on relationships, especially as people are facing severe financial hardship and uncertainty, and increased anxiety/fear).

If you already suffer from PTSD or another mental health issue, this may very well be an exceptionally triggering, difficult time. I'm noticing it in myself, hearing about it from others, and observing it in my contacts, sometimes in very alarming ways.

For those with PTSD, the current circumstances may be ultra-triggering for a variety of reasons that I'm not going to be able to exhaustively describe (and won't try). For example, for some, the current chaos and uncertainty replicate childhood realities and fears. Further, the feeling of being trapped in a situation that can't be escaped can remind people of the trauma they experienced, whatever it may have been.

And for those of us with a tendency to be viciously hard on ourselves, this can be accompanied by a harsh inner voice demanding that we just suck it up and stop "indulging" our own pain given what's going on in the world. We may feel we should just shut up and do our part and not be a drain on anyone's energy or resources. We may feel we shouldn't seek professional help when those professionals are already overburdened (or about to be overburdened) by the current crisis.

It's true we all need to do our part to preserve our own health and the health of the more vulnerable. A necessary part of that is by practicing physical distancing, but that can't be all of it. There are also very vulnerable people and circumstances that are not visible in the statistics that we are all so carefully watching. It's important that we pause to seriously consider, listen for, discuss, and address those impacts as well. We can care about stopping the spread of a potentially devastating physical illness while also paying attention to the other ways in which our own health and the health of those around us may be affected, perhaps even devastated, by the extreme, but necessary, measures that we're taking.

Some of my own random very basic ideas about how we can all do our part in a more inclusive way from the comfort and safety of our own homes (this will absolutely not be exhaustive, given the limits of my own experience/perspective):

• Let's take extra care to be inclusive in our messaging. Let's not make any assumptions that people have a shared social reality or that we are all similarly affected. For example: let's recognize from the outset that not everyone has someone to spend their isolation with. Not everyone has safe stable housing. We aren't all going to be able to "spend more time in our homes with our families" or for some who may end up having to do so, it may be anything but healthy. Let's avoid importing the assumptions about what "normal" looks like into our messaging, thereby making people feel more alienated, isolated, and alone. Let's avoid talking in an "us" and "them" way as well about the more vulnerable as if the primary messaging is directed to the "we" that are going to be least affected, and the less vulnerable are "others" of whom we should all be thinking but who are not included as recipients of the main message. Those who are more vulnerable to the physical effects of the illness itself, to the mental health effects of what is going on, or to the financial impacts, etc. deserve to be seen, heard, and included in our messaging. Let's give tips/suggestions/encouragement in a way that acknowledges upfront (rather than as an afterthought or side-note) that not everyone is similarly situated.

• Let's take the time to learn about each other's differing circumstances, perspectives and needs: A lot of us may be feeling helpless right now and not sure what we can do to help. There may be concrete steps we can take to help others right now and there have been uplifting stories about those who are doing amazing things in that regard. Another, often overlooked, way in which we can help others is not necessarily going to be something that can yield immediate results but it's still critically important. If we aren't able to get out there and directly help others right now, why not take the time now to educate ourselves about the experiences, perspectives and needs of differently-situated members of our society by seeking out content created by those directly affected for that purpose? Caring for others isn't just limited to what we can do in the here and now (although that's obviously very important whenever possible), but also can take time, attention and effort to truly see and learn from those around us so we can tailor our offers of comfort, support and assistance to what they actually need. So perhaps now would be a good time to learn about the experiences and needs of those who are more vulnerable/marginalized? This shouldn't be difficult to find via internet research. There are strong amazing people advocating eloquently on almost every platform on virtually every issue. So let's take the time to listen to them. Not only will this ensure that our "helping" measures when we do take them include everyone, but it will potentially help those who are often excluded to feel truly seen and valued, which could have immediate effects on morale and our shared sense of connection (assuming we do it respectfully and with a genuine sense of humility/interest).

• Let's reach out in the ways that are still possible: Once we've practiced truly seeing and listening to each other in the above way, the next step could be to reach out and ask those who may be more vulnerable how we can be there for them and support them. I vaguely recall there is a device many of us possess called a phone that offers some magical voice (and even video) connection-options. Maybe we could take the time to reach out to people we haven't spoken to in awhile to give them a sense of company and connection (thereby benefiting ourselves too). Maybe we can share cute/funny memes and videos (I highly recommend rescued baby bat videos!) with people just to let them know they haven't been forgotten and are in our thoughts. I don't have the answers as I'm by no means an expert in connecting, but as someone very isolated in my current circumstances, I just know how much it has helped me when some people have reached out to me in that way. So let's get creative in connecting and be sure to extend that not just to the people already in our circle but also to those who may otherwise be left out.

• Let's check in with people to see if they have what they need: These are scary times and a lot of people are afraid of what may happen next. Some people aren't necessarily comfortable reaching out to ask for what they may need, or may not have people to reach out to. So when we can, perhaps we could reach out to some people within (or on the periphery of, or outside) our circle, and ask the simple questions: "Do you have everything you need?" "Are you okay for supplies?" Perhaps they don't need anything, but it may give considerable comfort to know that someone is looking out for them, and cares if their needs are being met. And it can open the lines of communication to make them feel comfortable asking if they may need something in the future.

• Let's keep brainstorming together how we might be able to support each other and truly be in this together: As I indicated, I have no answers and the above suggestions are really very basic (though sometimes it's the simple things that can make all the difference). These are unprecedented times. The answer to how we can be there for each other won't necessarily be obvious. Going back to basics can surely help, but also we can draw on our collective creativity and compassion in finding new ways to connect, comfort and support each other.

 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

Self-Care in Reverse

When I'm feeling especially dark, down and hopeless, it's difficult to see the value I have. It's hard to feel like I add anything good to the world. I share this because I know so many other people struggle with these feelings too at times.

We're told that self-care is important. We're told that we should learn to care for ourselves before caring for others. But if the feeling isn't there, is this advice really useful? What good is it for me to put my own mask on before assisting others, if my own mask is full of holes?

So here's the only thing I've found that saves me in those darker moments--and it is completely the opposite of that advice. When I'm feeling most down on myself, it helps me to be there for others in as many ways as I can. Nothing helps me more. I never feel depleted by it. I feel energized by the sense of connection and purpose.

In fact, it's one of the worst things about suffering as openly as I have. Friends seem to hesitate to ask me for advice and support in the way they may have in the past. It's not just that they aren't supporting me. I've lost my chance to experience being in a supportive role to those I've cared about. I used to treasure and value that aspect of my friendships. I felt I was good at being there for my friends when they needed to vent about or think through a tough problem, involving a relationship or work situation.

Fortunately, however, through my advocacy, I've encountered a few people via social media who truly "get it," who're struggling themselves, and we are there for each other, which gives me a chance to be supportive to others again (in addition to being supported myself), albeit from three time zones away.

This means a lot to me. Even in my darker moments, I never doubt that other people have value. It always means something to me to be able to help someone else, even if only in some small way.

That's not to say that I'm advocating for people to overextend themselves and give more than they can. My ability to give to others is in fact very limited at times, just as my ability to do things for myself may be, particularly when I have a lot of responsibilities that must be carried out and I often have nothing left in me after attending to them.

What I am saying is there's huge value in finding small ways, big ways, or any ways to be there for, be kind to, or be helpful to others, even when we can't be kind to ourselves.

If we can't put our own mask on, if our own mask is broken, it still gives a great sense of satisfaction to use what energy we have to reach out and help someone else with theirs.

And it may even save us.

In my darkest moments, I feel I haven't added value to the world. Nothing can persuade me otherwise. I have an answer for everything as to why x,y,z that I've accomplished doesn't really count.

But then sometimes comes an answer that means everything: from someone I care about, from someone I know counts, I hear those magic words, "But you've helped me."

Don't get me wrong. The darkness in my brain can still argue with that. Maybe they're just trying to make me feel better. Maybe if I hadn't helped them, someone else would have. Maybe they had it within them all along and didn't really need me.

BUT what I can't say in those moments is that accomplishment, if true, doesn't count. If I've really been of service to someone in some small way, that is something real. I will never say to that person, "But helping you doesn't matter." It does and it's everything.

My own mask may still be broken, but in that moment, it's like someone else is offering me theirs.

I can breathe. I can see meaning. I can see a kind of value that even the bleakest parts of me can't discount.

So I advocate for self-care if you can do it. But self-care doesn't have to be an isolating solitary activity: a major part of self-care can be caring for others. It's not wrong to prioritize that if that's what truly matters to you, if that's what helps you breathe.

As I've said before, even when we can't love ourselves and be there for ourselves, it doesn't have to be the end of the story. If we can't put our own masks on, we can help each other do so.

My advice based on my personal experience: If you can't be kind to yourself, one of the most healing things can be to extend the kindness you possess, but can't personally access, to others. If you can avoid it, don't stay in the dark room alone hoping that the spark of self-love will appear. Share in the warmth of kindness in whatever way you can, and maybe someday it will spark something for you too.

And if someone has helped you, tell them so. You could be giving them the strength they need to continue along a difficult path.

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

Mental Health Diversity is Okay: Let's Embrace It

The way we talk about mental health and mental illness is important. We need to aim to avoid stigmatizing language. We need to try to ensure that the way we portray mental illness is helpful to those who may be suffering. There are practical concerns as well. Because physical illnesses are often perceived as being treated more compassionately, there's often a feeling that we need to show the ways in which mental health is "no different than" physical health.

But that doesn't mean we all need to see it the same way all the time. We have to be careful not to stifle open dialogue and diversity for the sake of the one right answer that we feel serves us and whatever practical imperative we are trying to advance.

Is mental illness exactly like physical illness or are there important differences? Is the concept of illness even helpful for all of us? Are physical illnesses even so well-understood that we can readily  use the comparison? Is the medical approach de-stigmatizing and healing, or unhelpfully reductionistic?

For those of us whose mental health conditions were caused by trauma, is it better to see what we suffer from as an injury rather than an illness? Or is the idea of being "damaged" in some way (via injury or illness) unhelpful when we were merely responding normally and naturally (maybe even heroically) to the things that have happened to us?

And there are implications for treatment options. Does medical science have all the answers? Might some of us favor medication options while others reject them and opt for therapy or other methods of healing (spiritual, lifestyle-based, improving social conditions, fighting oppression/violence, etc.), some of which may be frowned upon by the medical establishment, resulting in us being lumped in with and mocked as much as Gwyneth Paltrow for daring to think differently and questioning medical orthodoxy? (Note: I'm not a Paltrow fan--I know almost nothing about Goop and I totally get there are definite problems with celebrity-promoted-wellness-options that need to be pointed out and corrected, but when the response to it descends into mocking those who don't automatically submit to the correctness of doctors saying "Do as I say. I have the answers. I'm a doctor," I grow deeply uncomfortable. I value medical science. It's incredibly important to learn what it has to teach us. But it absolutely doesn't have all the answers and I find a lack of humility and suitable caveats in medicine even more concerning than a lack of caveats and humility from some Hollywood mega-star who obviously doesn't have an MD or the position of authourity it entails).

The questions are endless. For my part, I have definite strongly-held views about many of these questions, some of which would put me out of favour with those leading the charge of certain "mental health awareness" campaigns.

• The idea of illness is not generally helpful for me, and in some ways has been profoundly damaging. I do meet the criteria for mental illness, and I accept this, but the concept of it doesn't sit easily with me in many ways and I would welcome the opportunity to explore alternate ways of conceiving of my suffering and possible paths to healing. It isn't the stigma of it (although, sadly, there continues to be stigma)--it's just not a fit and doesn't do justice to the nature of what I have suffered and the ways in which I've survived it. In my view, people who have been affected by trauma to the point of developing a trauma-related "mental illness" are not necessarily sick or weak (though there shouldn't be any shame in either of those labels--I just don't feel they fit me). My most helpful way of viewing myself is to see that (1) I'm incredibly strong but (2) the ways in which I've had to be strong have depleted me in many ways and are often not well-matched to the society and conditions in which I have to live, which has resulted in (3) me feeling perfectly normal suffering in response to both the original experiences and the poor way in which it's recognized/handled by the people and social structures around me. So maybe it's the world around me that's sick when it comes to trauma-related suffering, not me. Yet it's a world in which I have to live, so the label of "mental illness" will have to do for now since it's the only way my suffering can currently be meaningfully acknowledged. I've made my peace with it and see no shame in it (I'm proud to stand with those who are mentally ill, whether it's from trauma or some other cause, and will defend others in characterizing their experience in whatever way most does justice to it);
• I don't think mental illness and physical illness are "the same," at least not always, although I'm confident there is plenty of connection between them, some of which we understand and some of which we don't, but that doesn't mean I don't think they should be cared about the same way. I think we can explore similarities and differences without reducing one to the other. I think we can use metaphors and analogies without getting overly attached to them. I think we can learn more about the mind by comparing it to the body and vice versa, as well as exploring the ways in which they may be inextricably linked.

But those are just my views based on my experience. Maybe these things exist on a continuum. I've made the point before in other contexts: the mind is a very complex diverse thing (or non-thing, or whatever). Mental health conditions are incredibly diverse, and can affect us in very different ways. And the ways in which we are affected may vary even further depending on our history, our degree of privilege, our connection or lack thereof to others, our physical health, the conditions in which we have to live/work, etc.

Maybe you have an illness and I have an injury or something else altogether. Maybe something can be partly understood as an illness  but also have so many other dimensions that need to be addressed that don't readily fit that framework. Maybe for some of us, a focus on one dimension is enough, while others need to be treated more holistically or focus on some other aspect(s) of the way in which their condition affects them.  Maybe your condition is readily treated by medication, while that's not the right option for others (including me) for a variety of reasons. Maybe some people are really helped by therapy while others would rather take medication. Maybe the usual medical treatment options won't do anything for those who continue to be ostracized, oppressed, and harmed by the conditions in which they are forced to live/work. Maybe some mental health conditions are very much like physical illness or injury and some are less well-suited to that comparison....

Maybe we can never know for sure, so we all just need to do the best we can to inform ourselves about the known pros and cons of various options and approaches, reflect on what's important for us, and proceed in a way that feels safe and right to us. Maybe even how we conceive of physical health isn't always perfectly straightforward so the attempt to reduce mental health to physical health blunts our understanding of both in a way that fails to adequately capture their mystery, diversity and complexity. Or maybe there is indeed a beautifully simple"correct" answer out there just waiting to be found, but we'll never get there if we don't allow for real dialogue and diversity: because the "truth" can't be something that erases and ignores the ways in which these things may be experienced differently for many of us.

My view: we need to learn to live with some uncertainty and curiosity as we explore these important issues. We need to talk to and listen to each other, especially those who are differently situated and often silenced. Medical science doesn't automatically have the answer to the mind/body problem, or what it means to have a fulfilling life, although it can certainly contribute to both of those questions. Nor is it free of biases that have long excluded the perspectives and realities of those who have suffered the most.

Until we have all the answers my view is that we need to focus instead on the deeper questions like "Why should we care?" "Why should we help?" "Why should we allocate resources to reduce the suffering of others, whether from mental or physical causes?" Do we really care about mental health only if it's comparable to physical health? Or does the care come first (for those of us who "get it") and then we try to shape our discourse to artificially fit the framework that we think will most motivate others to care?

Why not have a discourse that's transformative rather than reductive? We care not because someone is "sick" as opposed to "weak," or "ill" as opposed to "injured," but because we don't think people should have to suffer needlessly if we can help it. Why don't we focus on that and talk about what it means for us to care in this way, and go from there? That way we won't have to leave anyone out just because they don't "fit" the way we've framed their experience. There will still be difficulty and we won't get around having to characterize these things in some way, but we can at least welcome all voices to the discussion and acknowledge the absence of easy answers rather than silence those whose perspectives differ from the one we've adopted.

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