By Gavin Ellis
Assistant District Attorney in Harris County
Whether we realize it or not, prosecutors tend to carry grief and trauma with us long after the workday ends. Stress, anxiety, and depression are common in our line of work. Talking about our feelings and seeking help can make us healthier people and raise the standard for mental health in our profession.
It wasn’t until I experienced these difficulties on my own—burnout, anxiety, trouble sleeping—that I started asking my peers whether they had similar experiences. Without fail, almost every one of them had the same struggles and seemed thankful or relieved to talk about it. Talking to friends and family about our experiences and taking advantage of resources, such as the Texas Lawyers Assistance Program, health insurance, and private therapy, can save careers and save lives. To remain empathetic and compassionate to those we serve, we have a responsibility to care for ourselves as well.
The demands of prosecution
As we discuss so often in jury selection, our life experiences shape our perception. Prosecutors in particular are the poster children for secondary trauma. On nearly a daily basis, we confront the worst of humanity. We look at death, decay, and ruin. We analyze the foulest minds. We watch videos of the darkest moments in people’s lives, and if we don’t have video footage, we learn their stories so well we can see them in our minds.
While our secondary experience cannot compare to the horrific lived experience of the victims for whom we fight, we regularly immerse ourselves in those grave and severe realities. And after all of that, we argue our cases in a high-stress, high-stakes environment with an audience poised to tear us down.
We all do what we can to manage our exposure to constant conflict and harrowing imagery. But spending so much time in this kind of environment has indelible effects on our perception of the world. No matter how “seasoned” we become, we are not exempt from trauma. Over time, exposure can take a toll on our ability to see the world, and ourselves, with clear eyes.
In 2020, I almost left prosecution. Despite working alongside a group of talented prosecutors and doing work I deeply believed in, I was having a terrible time finding balance. The docket was demanding, our division served as on-call prosecutors tasked with visiting active officer-involved shooting scenes, and we were working through a stream of highly contentious trials and investigations. Some of those trials brought about media attention, which the defense used as a platform to make baseless and offensive character accusations about me and my peers. It was stressful trying to perform on serious cases when it felt like every action we took or didn’t take was met with hostility. Despite the fact there were many meaningful victories worth celebrating in that time, I could not see beyond the difficulties I faced. It became a chore to find motivation and optimism about my work going forward. I could feel the pressure building in me, and I was afraid to confront it.
The effects
Acknowledging the effects of stress and anxiety can be difficult, especially when they build slowly over time. The vulnerability to challenge our self-perception can invoke feelings of weakness or insufficiency: “I’m expected to be strong—how can I let down my defenses?”
I reacted to my work anxiety the way many late-20s Millennials might: I sought distraction. I bought a PlayStation and started exercising more. While these were not unhealthy responses, I came to realize they did not help me make sense of what I was experiencing. In retrospect, I recognize I was loathe to acknowledge those feelings because I was afraid to feel weak. Even worse, I did not think I was allowed to feel sad, and I feared that I was the only one having a hard time.
Talking with my peers, even my closest friends, did not feel like an option. Everyone else seemed like they had it all figured out. It was easy for me to assume that my lingering feelings of fatigue and anxiety were a figment of my own sensitivity. I thought if I just kept going, they would work themselves out. What I didn’t recognize was that those feelings were occupying mental space I needed to be the lawyer—and person—I wanted to be. To keep trucking, I needed to evaluate what I was carting around mentally.
When I finally spoke to a therapist about my feelings, it became apparent to me that I was not the first prosecutor she’d had as a client. Furthermore, my therapist validated my feelings and helped me recognize they are normal responses to serious emotional stressors. My doctor spoke frankly in telling me, “There’s a name for people who see the darkest moments in people’s lives and feel nothing: sociopaths.”
It was not long before I started confiding in my family and speaking to coworkers I trusted about their own experiences. A fellow ADA opened up to me about his work-related PTSD diagnosis. A judge and former ADA told me the end of her prosecutorial career came after a relatively basic arson case evolved into a capital murder involving a child. They had both gone to therapy, too. I felt proud—proud of them for being honest. Proud of myself for facing my fears. After years of wondering, it became readily apparent to me that I was not alone.
Our work culture encourages rationality and composure. We need to be resolute to do our job. But we aren’t robots. In fact, being perceptive and processing emotion is inherent in the very idea of “prosecutorial discretion.” Such discretion demands that prosecutors have a compassionate but sober perspective on the world around us. It is difficult to be present when carrying the weight of anxiety and grief. When we cannot be present, we lose perspective. When we lose perspective on the world outside our courthouses, we are unable to adequately represent the communities who depend upon us to fairly assess justice. This hurts victims, defendants, and ourselves. It is incumbent upon us as a profession to foster a culture of openness and look for help when we struggle with the side effects of our labor. In short: We’ve got to do better.
Seeking help
Mental health issues are not uncommon in the general population, but they affect lawyers at a higher rate. While 10 percent of all people have struggled with depression, the American Bar Association’s 2017 survey suggests that number is as high as 28 percent among lawyers. The same survey suggests that 11.4 percent of lawyers admitted to having suicidal thoughts in the previous year.[1]
Take a moment to consider the brilliant and gifted lawyers and judges you see every day in Texas courtrooms. Think of the friendships we have all built and memories we have created. Imagine all those razor-sharp wits, big personalities, and annoyingly skillful trial opponents packed shoulder-to-shoulder.
Now imagine more than a tenth of them gone.
That’s not a reality any of us want to experience. Fortunately, we have resources to guide us.
The little things. Terry Bentley Hill, a Dallas defense attorney who lost her husband to suicide, has been around the state asking attorneys to “stop minding your own business.”[2] In a training she gave to me and my peers at the Harris County District Attorney’s Office, she emphasized the importance of simply asking each other “Are you OK?” While Ms. Hill did not advocate being pushy or overly assertive, she asserted that those three words might open the door to someone who is looking for help. As a professional community, we can all make that difference.
Ms. Hill also made the important point that we can become so immersed in our craft and with family responsibilities that we forget to do the little things to care for ourselves. Even simple practices such as exercising, getting adequate sleep, drinking water, going outside, and disconnecting from our phones can improve our mood. (That Saturday night email can probably wait until Monday morning.) Practices like these can also help us set proper boundaries and have time to focus on our own wellbeing. While we can’t hydrate or exercise ourselves out of depression, just being aware of the little things can help us calibrate the way we measure our well-being.
Therapy and counseling. Sometimes our emotional weight gets harder to carry. Meeting with a therapist can help us make sense of our feelings and manage them. Resources exist that we may not even be aware of; for instance, if you have county insurance, it may provide a number of free counseling sessions before a co-pay is required. A phone call to my own provider informed me that my insurance covered the first eight sessions with a licensed therapist. If there is not a connection after the first few sessions, the eight sessions would renew upon request. Private counseling is always an option as well. Ask friends or family for a trusted recommendation, and if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, online resources such as Psychology Today and the American Psychological Association can provide lists of qualified professionals to help.
The Texas Lawyers Assistance Program. The Texas Lawyers Assistance Program (TLAP) provides confidential help for lawyers and law students battling substance abuse and mental health problems. The service is free and TLAP keeps all its communications confidential, except in rare instances to prevent harm, abuse, and death. That confidentiality is protected by law under Texas Health and Safety Code Chapter 467. TLAP’s website provides self-assessment materials and serves as a referral service for additional types of mental health and substance abuse care. While many metropolitan prosecutors might have large offices with many people to talk to, that might not be true for many of the smaller offices in the state. TLAP makes sure we all have someone to talk to. I recently heard a coworker say, “Yeah, you can literally text them if you’re crying under your desk and they’ll answer.” They are a call or text away. We all have access to this invaluable resource in our pockets at 800/343-TLAP and tlaphelps.org.
Conclusion
I am abundantly proud to be a prosecutor and I am glad I weathered hard times to stay in the profession. The difficulties I experienced were trying, but adversity was the push I needed to create change. Finding balance has made me a more well-rounded lawyer and a more empathetic person. Keeping balance still takes effort, too. I give my very best at the courthouse but I still visit my therapist, use my vacation time, and find time for self-reflection.
Everyone may not share these struggles or share them in the same way. But if you’ve taken the first, often hardest step of recognizing that you need help, know that you’re not alone. Help is available.
Endnotes
[1] American Bar Association, New study on lawyer well-being reveals serious concerns for legal profession Americanbar.org (2017), www.americanbar.org/news/abanews/publications/youraba/2017/december-2017/secrecy-and-fear-of-stigma-among-the-barriers-to-lawyer-well-bei.
[2] Ms. Hill also wrote an article for this journal on the topic of suicide and reaching out to peers in need; find it at www.tdcaa.com/journal/take-a-stand-against-suicide.