An Update On An Addicted Associate

Whatever happened to the Biglaw associate who reached out to Above the Law and its readers for advice on dealing with a very serious addiction problem?

Human beings — and yes, that includes lawyers — are surprisingly resilient. We periodically receive updates about people we’ve covered who experienced some misfortune (sometimes misfortune of their own making), and the updates are often positive. Lawyers and law students we’ve written about have bounced back from scandals, wrongful convictions, not-so-wrongful convictions, and much more. (If you’d like to share an update with us about any story in our archives, please drop us a line.)

Over the weekend, we heard from a lawyer we wrote about last year who was struggling with a serious addiction problem while trying to keep his job at a top law firm. He’s no longer at the firm — and he’s much healthier and happier today than he was when he wrote to us last year.

We congratulate him on his progress so far, wish him the best on his continuing journey of recovery, and thank him for his work in trying to help others who have fought the same demons. Please feel free to share his message, which we’ve posted below, with anyone who might derive support and encouragement from his words.


A little over a year ago, Above the Law published a cry for help that I sent to its mailbox asking about taking a leave from my Biglaw firm to go to rehab for a serious opiate addiction. In the weeks leading up to writing that letter, my desperation and feeling of utter hopelessness over my situation had boiled over and I knew, I really knew, that if I didn’t get into rehab I’d die of an overdose or end up in prison.

I read each one of the 134 comments carefully and really was touched at the (mostly) helpful comments. However, though I desperately wanted to scream from the top of the Rock that I was an addict and I needed help, I was too scared to truly admit that to myself and thus far too scared to admit that to anyone at my law firm.

But in a moment of clarity, sometime after I wrote into ATL, I gave my firm notice that I was leaving. They were not surprised. I had gone from being considered a star to being considered a dud. For a time when I would fall asleep during a meeting, my colleagues would just assume that I was working real late the night before — and I got a few “attaboys” for presumably churning hours when really I was losing consciousness due to a massive intake of opiates. But in time they just started to look at me like a I had three heads and they knew I wasn’t tired from overworking.

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My life had become completely unmanageable. The walk from my apartment to my job was only about 12 minutes, but there came a time during the course of my addiction that if I needed to get more drugs during the day (i.e., the supply I took to work ran out), I’d bring dealers to my office by pretending they were pro-bono clients. I would do lines off the bathroom floor at summer associate events (including at partners’ homes), I would steal prescription narcotics from the medicine closets of the few associate colleagues who would have me over, I would use my corporate card to buy stuff to then pawn; I was a junkie in a tailored suit.

By the very end of July, my habit had increased significantly from where it was in June when I wrote ATL. I had a few close calls with overdosing, and my family figured out I had quit my job. They got involved and helped me medically detox and got me into rehab (Father Martin’s Ashley on the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland). There, I met other addicts who had achieved professional success. The shame I felt over my addiction began to lift. In previous attempts at sobriety in New York I was told by a psychiatrist to attend Alcoholics Anonymous or Narcotics Anonymous meetings. I had too much pride at the time to do that, and had a vision of such 12-step groups being a place for low-bottom alcoholics and addicts who lived under a bridge and showed up at meetings for the free coffee. One of the many reasons I am grateful to Father Martin’s Ashley is for exposing me to 12-step recovery.

I have not taken a drink of alcohol or used any mind-altering substance since July 29, 2014. I don’t have to wake up and come up with the $1,100.00 my habit had grown to on a daily basis. I don’t have to flirt with death every day. I don’t have to lie, to steal, to hide, to be ashamed, and to be so alone.

To anybody in the legal profession struggling with an addiction, seek help. Go to a meeting of AA or NA. If you go to one meeting and you compare yourself out, go to a different meeting and raise your hand. Whether you are struggling with an addiction to alcohol or heroin, there is a path to recovery that millions have followed before you — take it. The Ivy League education and financial resources that I thought made me special and not need the help of a 12-step recovery program could not be brought to bear to rein in my addiction on their own.

I am no longer living in New York City and am now working in-house for a small business in the Southeast. I love my job, but my job is no longer the basis for my identity. My efforts and focus have become helping other addicts (often in their late teens and early twenties) see the best within them. As Winston Churchill wrote, “We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.”

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Earlier: A Biglaw Associate’s Terrible Dilemma