To say law school is a stressful environment would be both an understatement and a statement so ridiculously, blatantly obvious that you’d probably dislocate your jaw trying to say “duhhhhh” emphatically enough. I overheard someone say “everyone in law school has an anxiety disorder: it’s called law school”. We end up balancing about 500 pages of readings a week with social and family obligations, bill payments, basic housekeeping, and for some incredibly driven and brave souls, work. And you’re also expected to add into the mix stuff like mooting or CLASP or intramural hockey (where – as a goalie – I’m trying to pull off two kinds of networking). To some extent, it’s nothing short of miraculous we don’t all snap at some point in first year and end up standing on the roof of the Ignat Kaneff building, screaming about how the government wants to steal our teeth.
It’s enough to make a sane person crazy, but what if you weren’t exactly “all there” to begin with?
Enter me. I’m a big, brash guy of about 30 with an eccentric sense of humour, a forceful personality, and a voice so loud Hutch only asked me to speak up once during first semester. Though most people are too polite to say it (thanks, by the way), I’m sure most people wouldn’t mind if I shut my proverbial pie-hole more often than I do. I’ve also been open about some rather sketchy aspects of my personal history, like bar fights and years spent getting loaded with deviants. With these things in mind, it might surprise people to know that I also suffer from Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Depression.
And that’s what I want to address. This isn’t necessarily some plea for sympathy to the vast majority of people who don’t have a psychological disorder – law school as an anxiety disorder in its own right aside. The object of this article is to assure those of you who do struggle with mental illness that you are not alone, and frankly, you are needed. Mentally ill people are overrepresented in the legal system, and those of us who have shared their experiences can be both competent and sympathetic advocates. We can also be sympathetic to clients whose legal woes are the result of one really bad day: after all, we have dozens of them every year.
Perhaps the most important thing to tell yourself is that you can make it. I’ve struggled with anxiety and depression since I was 3. The less said about my adolescence, the better. I went to rehab at 19. I keep forgetting how often I’ve been kicked out of a home for reasons beyond my control. 2 months before I started law school, I came home to find my fiancé – who I’d been with for 5 years – had dumped me via note. I almost dropped out in October because I spent more time crying than reading. I couldn’t go to a torts lecture on psychological shock because I feared it would be some sort of trigger. My life was a sad joke and every day a pointless trial waiting to be adjourned for a tomorrow I didn’t care to see. I suffered.
But I kept going.
As I said, it’s important to remember that you’re not alone, not just in the sense that there are other people like you who have had rough lives marked my psychiatric issues, but also in the sense that there are people waiting to help you. People want to help you. Osgoode has counselling services that did wonders for me. Having someone say “after all that, you’re still trying” meant a lot on its own. York’s disability services can accommodate you (though admittedly, I’m not sure what happens after you fill out the paperwork: I decided having it and not needing it was enough). Perhaps most importantly, your colleagues will likely reach out to you if you show some stress. I would have quit in October if it weren’t for several people stepping up and saying – in essence – “I’m here”. Mental illness is not your fault, and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you can’t own it, at least admit it. Even the strongest of us need help now and then.
Most importantly, take care of yourselves, and take care of others. Cliché as it sounds, we’re all in this together, and aside from a few people who might not want to help you get that A, we’re totally on the same side. You need help? Ask. Someone asks you for help? Help them or direct them to someone who can (I’m assuming most of us aren’t qualified therapists, but still). You’d be surprised who might have shared your personal struggles, and with law school, we’re all struggling together in at least one sense. It’s a challenge for everyone. Everyone falls, and it doesn’t matter how much help you need getting back up. All that matters is that you keep going.
Good luck this year!