Anonymous Story
I’ve practiced law in the Commonwealth for over thirty years. I went to a top tier law school. I’ve been blessed with a good professional career. I’ve had good opportunities with great firms doing complicated work that challenged me. I made partner at an early age. By all accounts I was a successful lawyer. All accounts but my own. I hated myself. I was ashamed. And I had been that way for years. I thought it was normal to cry myself to sleep at night or in the car driving to and from work just wanting it to end. I would tell myself that I never contemplated intentionally harming myself, but I didn’t give a damn what happened to me. I suffered from depression but wouldn’t admit it, not even to myself. Because I am a man of a certain age and stature within the profession, I could not say that I had depression to anyone. After all, I was the lawyer in the room. I fixed the problems. I shouldered my clients’ burdens. I frequently recommended my clients seek help for their mental health and I applauded their efforts. But not for me. I was invincible. For me to admit that I needed help, or that I suffered from depression, would be a huge sign of weakness, of failure, or that I just wasn’t enough.
It was probably my 500th Saturday in a row working in the office. It was a typical Saturday – the weather was perfect, and outside my window people were enjoying their families. My family was off doing something fun. Maybe we would meet for dinner if I got home in time. The VJLAP brochure that I picked up at a CLE fell out of my briefcase as I was packing up for court the following Monday. So, I looked at it on the floor of my office for about ten minutes, and then I picked it up and called the number (24/7 Help Line: 1-877-545-4682). What harm could there be with leaving a message on the voicemail that I was sure I would get? My plan was to leave that message and maybe someone would call me back the next Monday or Tuesday. I didn’t want to talk to anyone but something had to give because I was afraid of what would happen next. Maybe not that day, but I knew that I was in trouble. And I hated myself even more because I finally acknowledged that I was a broken person and good or bad, something was going to happen.
Barbara Mardigian, the Clinical Director, answered the call. On a Saturday afternoon around 4:30 p.m. a real, live, breathing human person picked up the phone. And when she did that, she saved my life. She listened. She asked me the right questions. At that moment I felt better than I had in years because I knew that someone else knew that I needed help, and I was confident that they would help me.
I cannot explain it, but I left that day feeling that maybe, just maybe, I would come through this experience and be almost OK. I felt better about myself that day than I had in too many years to count. But I was still ashamed, and I felt weak because I needed help. Barbara corrected me – asking for help is not a sign of weakness. It is a sign of strength. She argued that issue with me better than any lawyer could have. She still argues that issue with me. So far she has won every time but I won’t let her know.
Over the next two weeks she monitored me almost every day. She kept asking me pesky questions that at first, I did not want to answer. Through her mixed method of compassion and calling me out for not being truthful to myself I slowly took down the walls I had built around myself, and challenged some of my beliefs regarding my invincibility and the shame I felt for having to ask for help. Through the network of providers maintained by VJLAP I was able to establish a connection with a therapist in my city. I learned from VJLAP how to communicate with my primary care physician and to stop hiding my depression. I learned how to have frank conversations with my family about my depression. I learned that it is OK to not be OK all the time. Throughout it all VJLAP stood by my side. Barbara still works with me to this day although on a less frequent basis. She continues to challenge me and help me to understand when I am not being true to myself. I am in regular therapy outside of VJLAP, and I think it is helping.
We lawyers are in the business of misery. Clients don’t come to us because things are going great. They come to us because they have problems and expect us to fix those problems. Many times, we can do it, but at a cost to our mental health that cannot be bought back by the billable hour or lucrative attorney fees.
From my experience I have learned what I already knew (but it didn’t apply to me): depression is a real thing. It is a real illness. And yes, it happened to me. Unlike a broken leg that we know is healed when we get the cast off, it takes a lot of work and a lot of help before healing can be completely achieved. I am not there yet, but my depression came on over many years. I have great days, and I have days that are not so great, but I am learning how to handle them. I don’t know when or if I will ever be completely healed. But of this I am sure – someone picked up the phone that day and saved my life.
– Anonymous