Health / Wellness

The Vulnerable Lawyer (And Law Student)

The fear of showing “weakness” is so ingrained into our thought process as lawyers that as a profession we have become unable to distinguish between how feelings need to be channeled.

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depressed head in handsI recently watched the movie, “The Woman in Gold.” It is about Maria Altmann, an Austrian-American Jewish refugee and her ultimately successful litigation/arbitration against the Austrian government to reclaim artwork stolen from her family by the Nazis. The movie centered around one particular painting of her aunt, Adele Bloch-Bauer, created by Gustov Klimt, and known as “The Woman In Gold.” Central to the movie is the litigation process to retrieve the painting and the lawyer who helped her.

The lawyer, Randol “Randy” Schoenberg, played by Ryan Reynolds, struggled to get his law firm on board with the case. Ultimately, he would leave the firm so he could pursue the litigation. The final conversation about the case with the name partner (as portrayed in the movie) went like this: “I have a real feeling about this (the case), sir.”

The response: “Since when have we been paying you to have feelings?”

This movie line encapsulates how feelings are generally viewed in the legal profession. Feelings are to be hidden. Showing feelings means being weak, especially when it’s related to discussing personal issues. Such emotions are to be hidden from all comers including other law students, professors, clients, and other lawyers.

The fear of showing “weakness” is so ingrained into our thought process as lawyers and even law students that as a profession we have become unable to distinguish between how feelings need to be channeled to do our best to excel in the profession versus what we need to do to help ourselves when we are struggling with mental health issues.  We have difficulty stepping back and embracing the vulnerability of telling people when we are struggling as being a virtue.

Here is the catch. This type of vulnerability is something that is absolutely necessary in mental health recovery.  It may involve opening up the well of emotions that may date back over a lifetime that are holding you back from getting better. Not a pleasant thought, is it? Very counter-intuitive to the projection of knowledge, competency, and strength in the profession.

I can tell you that while I strung days of sobriety together and battled clinical depression, my recovery did not begin in earnest until I allowed myself to be vulnerable in a setting that I felt safe to do so. And it took time to feel safe.  I finally got honest with my psychiatrist and those close to me about my alcohol, drug, and other mental health issues including clinical depression. I then began to move forward in a positive way. I had been lying by omission for years, simply getting my anti-depressant meds and not opening up about all the unresolved pain, layer upon layer going back to childhood. The mentally abusive relationship with my mother. The severe bullying as a teenager.

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You may ask, why would you lie to your psychiatrist? You’re paying him to get better. One simple answer: Shame knows no hourly rate. I was ashamed and afraid of being seen as weak and broken, even in a therapeutic setting.

I see this issue regularly when I speak to lawyers and law students who are struggling. People who would rather pull their toenails out with their teeth than talk about such things. Talk about the pain of a little boy or girl, failed relationships, trouble at home. It’s easier to simply say, “I’m over that,” and move on. To emotionally isolate from the world. But they often have not moved on and those feelings are always just under the surface, waiting to trigger destructive drinking or drug use, relapse, or other unhealthy behavior when the right environmental pressures are there. The stress of billing. Stress of trial. Stress of grades. The list of possible triggers is endless.

I am here to tell you that allowing myself to be vulnerable and let those feelings out was a key in my long-term recovery.  Those feelings that dated back to childhood no longer control me.  I even write letters to my teenage self.  I talk to my “inner child.” Doesn’t sound very “manly” or “lawyer-like,” does it?  It does not mean telling everyone your childhood secrets. It means realizing that as lawyers, we are, in fact, paid to have feelings because they are unavoidable. They can even be helpful.

So where do you begin? How you can be “vulnerable” and break through the barrier of stigma that keeps you shamed into silence by fear? Fear of ridicule. Fear of professional consequences. Fear of losing that competitive edge. As a profession of thinkers, let’s start by considering these “thinking realities.”

  1. Thinking your way through the problem has its place. That’s what we do in our profession. But don’t think yourself into silence and doing it alone. Think your way to a recovery plan with the help of professionals or other people who care about you and want to help. Think through the fear and stigma (which is often simple projection and not reality based) of immediate disclosure versus the long-term personal and professional consequences of doing nothing.

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  1. Think through anonymity-based, conspiracy-type thinking. Such thoughts are borne of fear and stigma. People really do want to help. Lawyers Assistance Programs (LAP) and Employee Assistance Programs (EAP) really are confidential. I spoke at a CLE event just the other week in which a lawyer insisted that he knew that the local LAP was not confidential. I asked him for an example of unauthorized disclosure. He laughed and admitted he had no proof. It was pure stigma. Who has he related his unsupported fears to? Did they tell someone as if it were fact? Inadmissible hearsay!
  1. If you’re too afraid of being vulnerable with regards to professional resources, start closer to home. Make a list of people who care about you. People you care about. Is there anyone on that list you can grab a cup of coffee with and share? In making this suggestion countless times, I have yet to have someone tell me there is no one.

Vulnerability to break through to long-term recovery is a strength, not weakness. It allows us to love ourselves. It allows us to open ourselves up to being loved. It is a tool of personal connection. It is the first step in freeing the pain holding you back. Give it a try.

  1. http://www.americanbar.org/groups/lawyer_assistance.html
  2. http://collegiaterecovery.org/programs/
  3. http://www.aa.org/
  4. http://www.smartrecovery.org/
  5. http://www.celebraterecovery.com/

BrianCubanBrian Cuban (@bcuban) is The Addicted Lawyer. A graduate of the University of Pittsburgh School of Law, he somehow made it through as an alcoholic then added cocaine to his résumé as a practicing attorney. He went into recovery April 8, 2007. He left the practice of law and now writes and speaks on recovery topics, not only for the legal profession, but on recovery in general. He can be reached at brian@addictedlawyer.com.

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