Remembering the Need for Self-Care
Law was literally killing me.
A heart monitor I wore in May showed my heart was running at beats up to 231 beats per minute. I was in atrial fibrillation, my heart beating out of rhythm, 56 percent of the time. I didn’t notice. I’d had recent procedures for hernia and ulcer, and had gotten my first ever bone fracture, and through it pushed on.
Many of us are drawn to the legal profession by a drive to help people. It’s what drew me in.
Law has given me the opportunity to change many people’s lives for the better. On a few lucky occasions I’ve actually been able to change policy, once or twice, on a national level.
Law is also an incredibly toxic profession.
In law school, we are immersed in a milieu that cuts us off from most everything we know. Our “learning” deprives us of adequate sleep and decent food. Law school breaks up most of our existing relationships. We’re not taught how to actually practice law—we’re indoctrinated to lead the expected “life of a lawyer.” We’re taught to work inordinate hours at the expense of everything important. We are socialized around keggers.
We graduate to a professional life where, if we’re not absorbed by a big law firm, we learn at the expense of our first clients. We join a professional body where at any time a substantial number are dealing with mental health issues and or substance abuse, at any time.
We also absorb the trauma of our clients and those around us. As in a lot of parallel professions, such as police and military, the advice is to toughen up and get through it. I still remember February 2021, when a 6.8 magnitude earthquake happened in the middle of the Bar Exam—those taking the exam were given minutes and the test resumed.
I started writing this piece after a request that I write about the WSBA Wellness Program meditation sessions and my experience with it. The program offers a half-hour meeting once a week. Let me be clear: A half hour, once a week is not by itself the cure. But the program is, as Danny DeVito said in War of the Roses, “A good start.”
In my case I prioritized my health, because if I chose to be honest, I had no choice.
I pulled back from every case I ethically could; found competent new counsel on the most litigious cases; found competent co-counsel on the ones I thought I could still handle.
I made it a point to enroll in meditation trainings, practice repeatedly every day. I did allied treatments including qi-gong, yoga, and biofeedback. I prioritized good nutrition, adequate sleep, and just getting outside in nature.
It worked.
Within a few weeks my whole being and demeanor began to change. I lost weight. Though I was still getting the procedure, my heart calmed down, to the point the racing cardiac episodes stopped. I was happier. I came to realize being happy was and is my natural state.
I am as capable as anyone of going for the throat and have done so—it’s just a horrible way to live, especially as default. It’s hard as hell to realize this when you’re in the middle of a contentious matter with counsel who’ve been similarly trained to make any argument. You’re exhausted and the adrenaline is pumping, but you don’t need to do this.
As I approached my cardiac procedure, one treatment provider told me that literally all my conditions from a few months ago had corrected. When I had the cardiac procedure, there were no complications. I was released the day of procedure. I was able to resume nearly all life activities almost immediately, doing many things better than I had done before. Still growing.
And easing very slowly, carefully back into law.
Part of what meditation and healing gave me time to realize was that repairing myself only to go back into the life I was living is not the way I choose to move forward. Meditation and time didn’t just heal; they gave me a change of perspective. I’ve begun to shed things I don’t need. Working by myself and with consultants, I’m taking necessary steps to simplify my life so I don’t need to work the insane hours.
When you empty yourself of what you don’t need, a lot of things start to become available. Things you forgot were necessary parts of you. I had a background in writing that had fallen by the wayside—I ran into a literary agent who it turns out wanted to meet with me. I’ve taught in the past—turns out there are a number of positions opening where I live. And so on.
I’ve learned a bit of how meditation works, and how doing a little in brief moments, but consistently, can change everything. We are by our biology hardwired for adrenaline and stress. This profession drowns us in stress. This injures us, causes inflammation in our organs. If we allow it, it kills us.
Meditation uses time-proven biological hacks to calm us and return us to baseline.
A slow exhale calms our heart and nervous system. Sound accompanying the exhale stimulates the vagus nerve, enhancing the calm.
A slow deep breath followed by a slower exhale with sound repeated a few times, calmed my heart every time I needed it. Taking a deep breath and a few moments to feel before entering a room or starting a conversation changed everything.
I won’t say I’ve completely arrived, but I’m in a better place and open to learning. I know now I can do a lot of things I truly care about.
Like anything else, if you build a foundation and work at it, you build strength and it becomes a new baseline. It’s changed my life.
Here are a few of the simple basic practices online I’ve found helpful. (There are others if one wants to explore.)
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