Mentally Ill in Law School
The Obiter Dicta generally does not publish anonymous articles. A strict, limited exception allows students to publish anonymously exclusively for articles about their mental health experience in law school. This exception exists only for cases where there are concerns directly regarding the risk of exposure or stigma. The Obiter Dicta Executive Board has full and final discretion over whether to publish submissions, and whether to require an author name for an article to be published.
Samuel Michaels
Editor-in-Chief
I’m sitting in Family Law when suddenly everything feels wrong. It’s as though I shouldn’t be there, in class, in law school, and everyone around me knows it. Visually, things look fuzzy and skewed, like I’m looking at things through different eyes. I begin shaking and feel tears in my eyes. Somehow, I don’t know how, I manage to delay the sobbing I know is coming and I make it to the end of class. I have another class this day, but I will only be able to have control over this anxiety attack for so long before I break down, and I don’t want to fall apart at school. So I go home to fall apart in private. Missing my second class that day only adds to my anxiety, making it that much harder to return to school. This cycle continues until it is near impossible for me to leave my apartment. Making the decision to shower each day is exhausting. Putting on my shoes to leave home makes me tremble in fear. My thoughts swirl obsessively – I am going to fail law school; my partner is going to leave me; none of my friends actually like me; I am simply not enough.
My mental health issues did not begin with law school. I have a long history of depression that began around age ten, though I did not receive an official diagnosis of chronic depression until I was sixteen. I have worked hard to manage and control my depression; I have been in therapy on and off since the age of sixteen, learning coping mechanisms to assist in those times that medication alone was not enough. By the time I began law school in my thirties, I was feeling in control and excited about the new chapter of my life.
Since I began law school I have, generally, been happier than I ever have before. It is amazing to finally discover my passion and fully commit myself to it. I had always imagined that once I was happy, certain behaviours or habits I had developed as coping mechanisms, or self-soothing, would simply fade away as they would be no longer needed. Instead, the behaviours worsened, becoming more and more uncontrollable. By the summer of 2L, what control I held over my mental state was slipping, and that summer I fell hard.
For over a year I had been delving into my mind, trying to figure out why despite feeling happier than I had in years my symptoms were worsening. In what I can only call a stunning revelation, one night I was suddenly struck by the fact that I have an eating disorder. This was intensely shocking. My partner, whom I live with, was with me at the precise moment I had this breakthrough and was immensely surprised. Apparently he had known for some time that I have an eating disorder and had never discussed it with me as I had never discussed it with him. He knows of my battle with depression and my history of therapy and medication, and assumed that I had received a diagnosis years ago. When I told my mother she responded similarly, that she has known since I was young. I was a wreck.
The following weeks were awful. I would drive to work, crying so hard I thought my head would explode, and then do my best to pull myself together so I could enter the office or the courthouse. I felt as though the real me had suddenly woken up, taken a look at what I had done to my body, and was mortified. I was desperate for help. I wanted to receive treatment at CAMH but unfortunately there was a lengthy waitlist. Unable to wait, I went to a private clinic that could see me immediately. I had several appointments there over the course of a week but it was prohibitively expensive and not possible to continue.
I began 3L a complete disaster. In October I finally had an appointment with the doctors at CAMH. Their assessment was that I do not suffer from chronic depression, but suffer from severe anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder, in addition to an eating disorder, and the depression I had experienced for most of my life was a result of these illnesses, rather than the underlying condition. My psychiatrist’s recommendation was that I immediately change my medication to one better suited for anxiety and OCD.
So, during the fall semester, I was weaning myself off meds and dealing with withdrawal symptoms (wanting to vomit, unable to sleep, all that fun stuff) while at the same time my anxiety and OCD, which were now completely untreated as my previous medication had somewhat moderated them, raged uncontrolled. For almost two weeks I was unable to leave my apartment. I was crying for hours on end, and when not crying I was always on the verge of tears. Reading was impossible as I could not concentrate, reading the same line or paragraph over and over again. When I was able to drag myself to class I was unable to focus on anything the professor was saying, my mind trying desperately to hold myself together until the class ended. I am sure more than one professor saw me discreetly (I hope) crying in class.
Thankfully Osgoode has phenomenal support systems for people in my situation. Without this support, I believe I would have had to drop out of law school last term, thus not graduating this spring and losing the articling position I have secured for August. I am writing this now so that other students at Osgoode know they are not alone in their struggles. I also implore those that suffer from mental illness to seek out the help and support offered by Osgoode, and York, if you have not already, so that you may be able to better succeed in law school during difficult times.
I have decided to not include my name in this article, not because I am ashamed, but because despite continued efforts the stigma surrounding mental illness remains. I will probably have to advise my employer of my diagnoses, but I would like to do that on my schedule, and certainly after I begin articling. Thus, I do not want everyone to immediately know who I am. My friends will certainly know, and for others who may recognize my writing or story, I am happy to talk to you in person if you would like more information, or are in need of support.
I also want to publicly thank Osgoode, Mya Rimon, Ellen Schlesinger and all those who met with me, counselled me, and assisted in my making it through the term. Thank you. I would not still be here without you.