Biglaw, Health / Wellness, Law Schools, Small Law Firms

The Struggle: When Your Biglaw Firm Forces You Out Because Of Your Depression And Alcoholism

No job is worth your life. Stay. Get help. Stay.

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drunk wine womanWelcome to the latest installment of The Struggle, a series where we examine the mental-health issues that students encounter during the oftentimes grueling law school experience. We are posting these stories because sometimes what law students really need is to know that they’re not alone in their pain. Sometimes what law students need is to know that they’ve got a friend who is willing to share not just in their triumphs, but also in their struggles. These are real e-mails and messages we’ve received from real readers.

If these issues resonate with you, please reach out to us. Your stories need to be heard. You can email us, text us at (646) 820-8477, or tweet us @atlblog. We will share your stories anonymously. You may be able to help a law student who needs to know that someone else has been there before and survived.

I’ve been sober for four years now, and have struggled with depression and anxiety my whole life. I was not a problem drinker until I went to law school, although the signs were there. I had spent a lifetime alternating high performance with periodic Byronesque depressions, which I covered with all my strength, so nobody would see I was dead inside.

In law school, my anxiety level slowly ramped up after first year. I was at a second-tier school, and I knew grades were absolutely critical. I thought everything would get better when I landed the Biglaw gig. The Biglaw firm, though, was a haven of high-functioning (and some not so high-functioning) alcoholics. Every single party or occasion or even quick get-together was swimming in alcohol, and you were judged on your ability to hold your liquor. As a woman, I always wanted to try to keep up with the boys, and was rewarded for that. I was an introvert, perpetually feeling like a square peg in a round hole, and alcohol helped with that. But after six years there, I slipped into a serious depression and should have taken time off, or even gone to a hospital, as I now know, but instead I tried to gut it out. The quality and speed of my work suffered, but it was less upsetting to me to be thought slightly less careful than to be thought of as mentally ill. You could tell by the way other lawyers talked about the few people who were honest about having had problems that this was simply not an option. I was eventually forced out, which I took as a personal disaster of the largest imaginable proportions even though, of course, at such a place, you have to leave eventually if you aren’t going to make partner — and that clearly wasn’t going to happen.

We had not prepared for this, and almost lost our house in the ensuing financial cleanup. My family was very supportive, we were prepared to move and downsize if necessary, but I ultimately landed another job, at a firm where I did okay, until another crash. For the first time, I took time off and got help. I received a diagnosis, a serious depressive illness. I was honest with HR and my supervising partner about what was going on. I wish I could say that had a happy ending — it did in the sense that I wasn’t fired, but it was clear that the supervising partner was never comfortable with me again, never had the same level of trust. It was awful to know that, like a steady drip of acid indigestion.

I spent the two years after my diagnosis looking for a different sort of job, one where I thought I could practice within my need for occasional time off and flexibility. By the time I found the job I have now, I had obtained lengthy treatment and therapy which make full functioning possible. I quit drinking during my last two years at the prior firm also — my diagnosis made it clear drinking had to be off the table if I was going to get better. I was able to start fresh at this new place, in a non-associate senior lawyer position so I don’t have to worry about making partner or not. It’s small, and friendly, and flexible. I’m effectively in charge of my own practice and nobody cares where I am so long as the work gets done. There’s an AA meeting down the street, where I go when I am meeting “a friend” for lunch.

But this new firm will never know, because I will never again make the mistake of sharing that information with any lawyer in management. My recommendation to those who suffer is treat your disease vigorously — with therapy and meds if you need them — but unless you are 100% confident that your managing lawyers are completely okay with the knowledge that you have a mental health issue, call it something else. If you need therapy and have to take time off during the day, it can be “physical therapy for my bum knee,” or “yoga,” or something acceptable. If you need to go to the hospital for a depression or for alcohol/drug rehab, go, do it, yesterday, for your life, which is more important than a stupid job. Call it something else — you are not obligated to share. If I am really pressed about why I don’t drink and am in company where I feel comfortable, I say “because I didn’t have an off switch” or “because I can’t really remember the 90s” — it’s actually more acceptable to be a recovering alcoholic than mentally ill, even though they so often go together. But nobody is owed an explanation as to why you don’t drink. I did confide some level of my “deal” with my direct colleague, because I found out that colleague has similar issues — we look out for each other and cover when needed. It has been absolutely a godsend.

I also look out for fellow lawyers, especially younger lawyers, for signs of problems or drinking issues. I want to be sure that I am not the senior lawyer who marginalizes or fails to help or understand another attorney in need. I would freely share with a colleague if I thought it would help them.

So, I guess the moral of the story is, you can practice law with a serious mental illness, but you have to be both aggressive and circumspect in getting the help you need, depending on your circumstances. But always err on the side of getting help, even if it means suffering the embarrassment of exposure. No job is worth your life. Stay. Get help. Stay.

Most colleges and universities have counseling and psychological services resources that students can turn to if they are in crisis or would like counseling, even after hours. If these services are not available at your school, and if you’re depressed and in need help, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline (1-800-273-8255) or a lawyer assistance program in your state. Remember that you are loved, so please reach out if you need assistance, before it’s too late.

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Staci Zaretsky is an editor at Above the Law. Feel free to email her with any tips, questions, or comments. Follow her on Twitter or connect with her on LinkedIn.

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