Diagnosis

On March 7, 2003, I was diagnosed by my family doctor of 25 years with severe depression. I have since learned that the depression had been creeping into my mind for many years.

On March 11, I was suspended by the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society from the practice of law.

On March 12, I suffered an almost complete mental breakdown, which had been unfolding for weeks, if not months.

So, it certainly wasn't my best week. The weeks and months that followed weren't much better.

I was confined to a bedroom for a month, unable to venture into the world. In fact, I was pretty much limited to a bedroom, a house, for a few years.

My mind was so fragmented that I could accomplish only a few life activities. I could attend at my doctors', go to Chapters, and drive at certain times of the day. My thinking was no longer sharp, I could not remember certain things. It was as if my mind no longer worked in certain areas.


Anxiety attacks became common. My heart would race, I would break into a sweat, and my head would pound. A normal occurrence , like the phone's ringing, could cause me to experience an anxiety attack. It could take hours, or at times, even days to recover. Such attacks were exhausting. As an attack swept over me, I would "hide" in bed or collapse on the floor.

I had lost my health and career within a week. How did I arrive at this point? To be honest, at the time, I was not sure. But with time, help, and lots of thinking, I now understand completely.

In early March, someone who knew of the complaint which led to my being suspended by the Bar Society, looked over my professional history , which consisted of a few complaints all dismissed at the first instance. His response was " What happened to you, this just doesn't happen. Something went wrong . " I had no answer. He suggested I see my doctor. Two days later I was diagnosed.

The crux of the complaint against me before the Bar Society involved certain decisions I made and actions I took when I purchased a new house, acting more or less as my own lawyer.

When I was presented with the entire set of facts, I initially had difficulty recognizing that we were talking about me. The events unfolding were so surreal. I think my mind was already beginning to break, the external pressures becoming internal pressures. However, I had no difficulty in acknowledging that my decisions were wrong and unethical. I accepted responsibility and was held accountable.

Back in 2003, given my state of mind, my understanding of the connection between my depression and the decisions I made in buying the house was limited. But today, with a clear and healthy mind and a better understanding of the effects of depression, the link is evident.

My depression put me in a place mentally where I wanted and needed to withdraw further from the world, a typical symptom of depression. My solo lunches were no longer enough. I worked with clients and staff all day. I could not hide at the office. So, I thought that if I could shut down my personal life, and thus hide, I would be completely alone and then my mind would be at peace. That was my goal.

Now, the house I found and purchased was very isolated. The driveway was one kilometre long. There were no neighbours. I told very few people that I was going to buy it, told even fewer that I had actually closed the transaction. Given my need to be alone, the house was a perfect fit. Getting this house was a matter of survival.

Therefore, I made certain decisions in order to buy it. At the time, I did not recognize that they were wrong. It was simply that my mind was so fragmented and my depression so powerful that my decision making was not governed by the proper parameters. My life depended on my buying the house. That was my only consideration.

Once I moved in though, my withdrawal escalated. While living there, I invited few people to visit. In my prior house, in a standard subdivision, I had staff parties, Super Bowl parties. Not anymore, not in the new house.

My need to hide was so intense that I had constructed a massive wrought iron gate at the end of my driveway. Most nights, upon getting home, I would close and lock the gate. Now, no one visited. No one was around. But still, I needed to lock the gate, to keep the world away. At least that's how my mind functioned, or didn't function.

At this point, I think it's necessary to explain the Nova Scotia Barristers' Society's complaint process, to show how it works and how certain events unfolded over its course which came to help me.

A public hearing was convened by the Bar Society for March 11, 2003. I attended with my lawyer, who , it should be noted, did an exceptional job in handling my file, and, at times, my personal well being. I think he understood depression and what it can do to a person better then I did at that time. My family waited at the hotel across the street from the Bar Society's offices. The hearing was held in Halifax, and I lived in Sydney, a 4-5 hour drive.

I responded to questions from the Bar Society's lawyer, my lawyer, and the Committee's members for several hours. The Committee, after careful consideration, suspended me for three months, allowing for further review by all involved.

During those three months, an agreed statement of facts was achieved between the lawyers. This Agreement called for me to be suspended for two years, back dated to March 11, 2003. In order to be re-instated, I would have to be declared mentally healthy by a psychiatrist and cover the Bar Society's costs in the amount of $25,000.00.

But this Agreement had to be approved by another Bar Society Committee, so another public hearing was held on June 23, 2003. Again, my family waited in the hotel across the street. I testified for a few hours. I took full responsibility for my decisions. I agreed that what I had done was wrong. I understood depression better then I did in March, and thus, I was able to explain what happened to me. Both lawyers presented a joint recommendation according to the terms of the Agreement. This Committee approved the settlement.

I must commend everyone involved, from the lawyers, the Bar Society's administration, the Committee members, and the woman who provided me with water and tissues. They listened to me and acknowledged the impact of depression on my life. That provided some peace.

My family told me that the Bar Society would have a "heart". I just didn't think anyone would when it came to me, my low self worth brought on by depression being a symptom of depression. As the June hearing concluded, John Merrick, Q.C., the chair of the Committee, finished by saying "Keith, go home and get well".

Shortly after my suspension, and in the midst of my breakdown, I realized that getting suspended may have been the best thing to happen to me in awhile, for several reasons.

One may think my life must have quite difficult if getting suspended was a good thing. Well, that's correct, my life was that bad.

Getting suspended gave me a second chance. It removed me from a workplace that was not healthy for me. I no longer had to struggle to go to the office. I no longer had to pretend that I enjoyed my work. I no longer had to deal with the people everyday. The pressures of my office were gone. Also, thanks to the diagnosis of depression, I knew the source of my troubles. All I had to do was work to get well. I had a chance at a real life. I had a new found sense of optimism, even though it was covered by layers of low self confidence, low self worth, and anxiety attacks. I hoped that one day that the optimism would rule. I realized I had a long and difficult path ahead, but at least I was now on the path.

As well, the suspension gave me an option to focus on my mental health and to get well. I lived on a lake, and many nights, I looked at the lake as my only option out of my troubles.

I remember explaining this to John Merrick in July, 2006, and his response " Well, I guess it's just a matter of perspective."

So true.

Keith

Life is Over Rated

Life is over rated. I made that comment one early morning as I traveled with some friends to Cape Smokey to learn how to ski. Over the years that comment became a joke, a phrase we brought out when one of us was having a bad day. But ten or so years later, that was how I actually looked at my life, there wasn't much promising about it.


I was diagnosed with severe depression in March of 2003, followed a few days later by an almost complete mental breakdown. . I had unknowingly lived with it for years. I was 42 years old. I had practiced law since 1984, except for a one year gap when I returned to university. My main areas of practice were real estate and wills and probate matters.


Looking at my life from the outside, it appeared very full and exciting. I had the career, as senior and managing partner in a successful law firm; the vehicles, a four wheel drive and an MG for the summer; money in my pocket; for awhile, a younger, attractive girl friend. But to me, I had nothing.


With my mind now clear, I can see how the illness moved into my life. At the time, however, I saw just a series of bad moments, bad days, bad things happening to me. I knew I was in pain, but that's all I knew. I had no way out. So, why did I miss the signs that I had a mental illness and what were those signs.


The "why" is now easy. In my twenties, I did well, in university and then at work. I enjoyed taking on any challenge. I was strong minded, hard working, and optimistic about life.


So, when in my thirties, life brought more challenges, I just thought I could, in time, overcome them. Asking for help was not in my options, I could do it alone, I always had. But there was a difference in that these new challenges were personal to me. I had always dealt with the problems of others, but I came to learn that dealing with my own was another matter, of which I knew little.

My personal difficulties began with a failed business venture, spearheaded by a partner, in 1990. However, the law firm we established in 1989 became successful. It took many long days and nights, over many years, but the financial rewards were realized.


But the most traumatic event that put me on the path to having depression, from what my doctor, Dr. DEB, and I determined, was the death of my father in February of 1992.


I was close to my father. We spoke everyday and saw each other most days. Our respective jobs brought us into contact as well. He was a real estate agent, I practiced real estate law.


Growing up, and still to this day, my family was and is close knit. We always had dinner together when I was young. We would talk about the day's events. Holidays were a special time, whether it was around Nova Scotia, a trip south, or seeing a baseball game in Montreal. These times were important. As well, we all had a love of politics, which during the Trudeau years, made for exciting times.


The actual signs of depression are now easy to see. I think I could identify problems, but I made no link to an illness. I knew thing's weren't going well for me, but I dismissed it as just a bad day. I just didn't understand that after 100's of bad days , that it was more.


Well, perhaps one of the first signs of my developing depression was that I started withdrawing from my friends. I had always enjoyed my alone time, but I also had many friends. Some friends were important and close to me, others were, as I call them, 9-5 friends.


Some of my best friends live overseas. We attended university together in 1986-87, all being foreign students, so having that in common brought us together. We kept in touch, on the telephone, letters ( in the days before email ), and spending holidays together. Then gradually, I stopped communicating with them. So, that, within a few years, these relationships were no more.


As well, one university classmate from undergrad, who lived just a few hours away was cut out. We were pretty tight in the good years of my life. I enjoyed our times together because we didn't always talk shop, we had common interests beyond work. But slowly, this went away too.

Lunch time became a solo time. Given how hard I worked and the long hours, I made a point of going for lunch. It was a much needed break in a usually hectic day, a time to breathe and chat with friends. But gradually, I stopped going out to eat with people. When asked out, I had an excuse. Then eventually, the invitations stopped, as to be expected.


I would eat alone in my vehicle. I would get a plain bagel and a bottle of water, and eat it as I drove around. When I didn't have the energy to drive, I would eat in a parking lot, hidden among the other vehicles, hoping that no one would see me and want to talk. I couldn't be part of the world for that half hour. I could eat alone and think that I could disappear for a brief moment. It became my means to hide during the day, week after week.


Another means of avoiding people was to shop for groceries on Monday evenings when, hopefully, the store would be quiet. I can now say I avoided people because with a clear mind, I can recognize that behaviour.


As well, I can look back and shake my head, I had such a twisted way of thinking with regard to certain things. A prime example was the insomnia that set in and the reasons I had for not sleeping.



What a horrible sleeping routine I had for years. On Sunday night/ Monday morning, I would be awake until 5-6 in the morning, then sleep until 7:30, then get up and go to work. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday nights/ mornings were the same. The exhaustion was overwhelming , but I still would not sleep. By Thursday and then Friday, the lack of sleep would finally get to me and I would crash. I would get some rest on the weekend. But then, along comes Sunday, the routine repeats. This occurred on a regular basis for weeks, going into months and years. I would get a normal week's sleep once in awhile.

So, why would I not sleep. At the time, I certainly wasn't happy. I had a poor outlook on my life, nothing was going well. I looked forward to very little. I hated to face the next day, the work, the people, the demands, the pressures. I had no fun at work or after work. Now, this is where depression set in to mess up my thinking, there is no logic involved. By staying awake late into the night/ morning, I thought it would put off the next day's beginning. If I slept, the next day would come quicker. So, I stayed awake, hoping for tomorrow not to come.


Tears became a regular event. They would flow from when I left my house to when I drove into the office parking lot. I would walk into the office and pretend to be in a good mood. Pretending is exhausting. Then after a long day of work, more tears while driving to my house, well into the night. This went on for weeks and months.


Since I was a child, I loved to read. Even during my university days, I still read books not related to my studies. As I studied law, I would read books on evolution, physics, or politics. Book shops were one of my havens, whether it was Waterstone's, Barnes& Nobles or the used book shop around the corner.


But as my depression progressed, I found that I couldn't focus well enough to read, concentration was just not available. I would read for twenty minutes, then stop, realizing that I had no idea what I had just read. My work required lots of reading, which I could do, but I couldn't read for enjoyment. I would buy the books, and they would find a place in a book case, unread.

Another indication of the impact of depression was on my last true relationship. We met a few years before my diagnosis. She was quite possibly the most interesting, exciting, attractive, certainly the most fun, woman I had dated. But as my depression wrapped around my mind, and thus my life, I grew distant from her. I was not able to commit to many things, whether it was a trip or dinner tomorrow night. My non-existent self worth prevented me from accepting the relationship as actually happening. I thought I didn't deserve to be happy. I remember saying to her early on that she intimidated me, a sure sign of depression. We were in touch throughout my breakdown period. I now know that that relationship had great potential, but it was taken away by my depression. So, D., we were short changed.

So, now with a healthy mind, I can easily identify the symptoms of depression I experienced. The above are the more pronounced signs , but there were more.

A physical pain I can handle, but a mental pain is different. The pain was my mind breaking into pieces. The exhaustion, the angst were overwhelming. Depression had taken hold.


Keith

My First Post

By way of background, I was a lawyer who was struck by depression. I was diagnosed on March 7, 2003. This blog gives me an opportunity to discuss my mental illness. I never had any difficulty in acknowledging that I had depression. Soon after being diagnosed, I wanted such a voice, but I first had to get mentally well enough to do so.

Now, this blog will consist of my views of depression, it's impact on both my personal and professional lives. There will be lots of factual situations that describe my illness; some of my opinions on my life and the lives of others; and some rants probably.

So, this is the start.