My Name is Bob

My name is Bob. I am a lawyer and a real person. At least, I must be a real person because the things that have happened to me happen to real human beings, even lawyers. This is a true story.

I ran a thriving practice in a small town in another province. I was married, had two young children and a happy home. I had the respect of my peers.

However, under the facade, my marriage was breaking down. I was becoming more stressed as I realized that the end was near. I began to hide in my work, spending many hours in the office, but achieving less and less. My work suffered so much that I was audited due to complaints and discrepancies. Disciplinary proceedings started which added more stress. My marriage ended. My wife and I agreed to joint custody with our children alternating two week periods with me and their mother. I knew about the bar assistance program but I did not call. After all, I am a lawyer and to admit problems was to admit weakness and an inability to deal with issues. What would other lawyers think? What would the community think?

It couldn’t be depression. Depression was not an illness, I thought, and people only used it as an excuse for not performing. The downward spiral continued until my Society hearing, where the issues were resolved as errors but with no deceit or dishonesty. I was suspended for three months and had to have my practice evaluated prior to being reinstated. Matters were being settled, or so it seemed on the surface. But I was close to bankruptcy. With not being in the office to look after my files, more complaints were filed. My membership lapsed and I had to reapply for admission. The stress finally became too much. I had a breakdown.

But I refused help. I went to doctors to tell them that everything would be all right when I got back to work. For some reason, I believed that I had to be strong for everyone and that weakness or any indication of it was the enemy. I tried to cope through drinking. I was in pain and refused to acknowledge it. Suicide began to look attractive: my debts would be paid, my children cared for and most importantly, the pain would stop. My plans were made. Final calls were made. Meanwhile my mother-in-law had called the police as she feared for my safety and knew I had a shotgun. The police chose that moment to arrive.

A good friend - a non-judgmental loving friend--took me to hospital where I committed myself for depression.

My father came to help me. I had not had the courage to ask him for help before. I have now had two years of intensive psychotherapy and medication therapy. I am recovering. I have a new agreement with my wife regarding joint custody of our children. They spend quality time with me. I am looking to reinstatement of my license to practice. My legal problems are still not over,but I now know that depression is more than a bad feeling that can be dealt with by working hard and putting on a brave face.

Now, I would not hesitate to call for help, especially to another lawyer who has “been there”, who would know how badly I feel and how to help me.

The Ontario Lawyer's Assistance Program provides volunteer peer support to lawyers, judges and law students who suffer from addictions and mental health issues. If you have seen parts of Bob’s story or recognize someone you know in it, do not hesitate to call.