Workplace harm continues to be far from an isolated experience in the legal profession. A recent survey conducted by the Law Society of British Columbia found that nearly half of respondents reported experiencing bullying during their careers, while almost 80% reported experiencing at least one form of discrimination, harassment, sexual harassment, or bullying.
As I read through the survey, I found myself thinking not only about the people who responded, but also about those who didn't. Like many surveys on difficult topics, it's reasonable to think that people with personal experience may have been especially motivated to participate. That doesn't diminish the value of what they shared - their experiences provide a vital window into workplace harm in the legal profession. Still, it left me wondering about those who are still trying to make sense of what they're experiencing, who haven't yet found the language to describe it, who wonder whether what they're experiencing "counts," or who quietly assume, "Maybe it's just me."
It's so hard to see the pattern when you're still living it. Looking back, patterns often feel much clearer than they ever did in the moment. When we're living through them, we're usually responding to one interaction at a time, finding explanations, giving people the benefit of the doubt, and hoping things will improve. It's often only later that we realize these individual moments were part of something larger. What we tend to notice first is simply that something feels different. We might second-guess ourselves more, find ourselves with a case of the Sunday Scaries, or notice our anxiety spiking in the minutes or hours before work.
I think that's one of the reasons conversations about workplace harm can feel so difficult, particularly for lawyers. We love definitions. We're trained to test arguments, look for alternative explanations, and distinguish between rules, exceptions, and grey areas. Much of our work involves helping clients understand where legal lines are drawn rather than exploring how an experience feels or what impact it might be having.
It's not surprising, then, that many of us instinctively turn these same skills on ourselves. We begin analyzing our own experience, looking for more evidence, questioning our conclusions, and wondering whether we're being objective enough before allowing ourselves to acknowledge that something doesn't feel right. It's almost as though we want to establish that our feelings are admissible before we're willing to consider them, like we're cross-examining our own experience before we're willing to believe it.
Now, I want to be really clear here - legal definitions, workplace policies, legal compliance, and professional standards are all incredibly important (Everyone breathe!). My hope is simply to suggest that we hold a well-being perspective alongside the legal one. Understanding whether an experience meets a particular legal or organizational definition matters. At the same time, understanding how that experience is affecting us matters too. These aren't competing questions - they're different questions, and I think we benefit from asking both.
I've sometimes wondered whether legal professionals are almost uniquely equipped to argue against their own experience. I know I have.
The skills that make someone an excellent lawyer - careful analysis, considering alternative explanations, weighing evidence before reaching conclusions - are strengths. They help us solve complex problems, advocate effectively, and make thoughtful decisions.
The flip side, of course, is that these same strengths can become surprisingly unhelpful when we're trying to understand our own experience. When something feels wrong, many lawyers instinctively begin gathering evidence. We replay conversations, consider different explanations, and ask ourselves whether another person would see the situation the same way. We ask these questions because they're exactly the questions good lawyers ask.
And so, ever logical, we spend our energy trying to determine whether an experience "counts" or whether we've interpreted a situation correctly. Our minds and bodies may already be telling us that something isn't right. We may notice that we've become more hesitant to speak up, less confident in our decisions, or increasingly preoccupied with getting everything exactly right, and then dismiss those observations because, somehow, building an airtight case against ourselves feels safer than trusting our own experience.
We don't have to answer every analytical question before allowing ourselves to notice how we're feeling. Our feelings aren't the whole story, but they are part of the story, and they deserve a place in our understanding of what's happening – feelings aren’t facts, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t evidence.
If you've made it this far, your lawyer brain has probably been waiting patiently for a few defined terms.
Definitions can be incredibly validating. They can reassure us that we're not imagining things, give us language for experiences that have felt confusing, and help us understand what options may be available. Many people describe feeling a sense of relief when they first encounter concepts such as gaslighting, intermittent reinforcement, or DARVO. I definitely did.
At the same time, I think it's important to hold these concepts lightly (despite definitions feeling like a warm blanket to our analytical minds). This means acknowledging that they are not there to help us diagnose other people or fit every difficult workplace interaction neatly into a particular category. Instead, they offer a framework for reflection. They invite us to become curious about what we're experiencing and engage in self-exploration, regardless of what other steps might be taken.
One of the challenges with workplace harm is that it often doesn't announce itself through a single dramatic event. In the recent Law Society study, of respondents who had experienced bullying, more than 40% said it occurred monthly or more often. This finding reminds us that workplace harm is often less about one dramatic incident than about repeated experiences that gradually erode confidence, trust, and psychological safety.
Expectations shift without explanation. Information arrives just a little too late. Feedback becomes increasingly personal rather than constructive. Meetings leave us feeling unsettled in ways we can't quite explain. We find ourselves expending more and more energy trying to anticipate what might happen next.
Here’s the hardest part - over time, these patterns can begin to change us in ways that are surprisingly easy to miss. We become more careful, more accommodating, or more vigilant. We spend more time trying to avoid mistakes or anticipate criticism. We stop contributing ideas quite as freely as we once did, or begin questioning decisions that previously came naturally. It doesn't simply create difficult days at work; it can gradually change the way we think about ourselves.
This is where your lawyer brain can be an asset - in many ways, lawyers are already experts at recognizing patterns. We don't rely on a single case to understand the law; we look at how principles emerge across many decisions and use these patterns to guide our thinking.
And pattern recognition isn't the only strength we can borrow. The goal isn’t to turn your lawyer brain off; it’s to use it to support your exploration rather than minimize your experience. Our ability to think critically, ask thoughtful questions, recognize patterns, and consider different perspectives serves us well in so many aspects of our work. From a well-being perspective, the invitation is simply to bring that same thoughtful curiosity to ourselves. It means widening what counts as evidence. Our thoughts, emotions, physical responses, and lived experience don't tell us everything, but they often tell us something deserves our attention.
You do not need to meet a standard of proof before you seek support. You don't need to be certain of the label, and you don't need to have gathered enough evidence to convince someone else before taking your own experience seriously. If work is affecting your confidence, your sense of safety, or your well-being, that's reason enough to have a conversation.
One of the greatest benefits of a supportive conversation is that it creates space to think before we've decided what to do. It allows us to make sense of what's happening without the pressure of reaching an immediate conclusion. Support isn't only about formal complaints or legal options; it's about gaining perspective, reconnecting with our own judgment, and deciding what would best support our well-being.
The Law Society survey also invites us to look beyond individual experiences and think about the profession as a whole.
When nearly half of respondents report experiencing bullying during their careers, this isn't simply about individual resilience. It's a reminder that healthy legal workplaces don't happen by accident - they are created through cultures that value respect, psychological safety, and well-being.
Workplace cultures are shaped not only by policies and legal obligations, but through everyday interactions - the way colleagues speak to one another, respond to mistakes, offer feedback, welcome new ideas, and support one another through difficult moments. Psychological safety grows through these everyday interactions, just as unhealthy cultures often develop through repeated everyday experiences that leave people feeling unheard, excluded, or diminished.
While we may not be able to change every workplace, we all have opportunities to contribute to the culture around us. Sometimes that's by checking in on a colleague who seems quieter than usual, modelling respectful disagreement, or creating space for different perspectives. These may seem like small actions, but cultures are built one interaction at a time. Small acts of care, curiosity, and courage have a way of shaping workplaces far more than we sometimes realize.
If there's one thing I hope people take away from this article, it's that you don't have to have every answer before taking your own experience seriously. Legal definitions matter. Workplace policies matter. Professional standards matter. Understanding how work is affecting you matters too.
Harmful workplace experiences are not an inevitable part of a demanding legal career. Legal work can be intellectually rigorous, deeply meaningful, and challenging without requiring us to sacrifice our psychological safety or our sense of self. My hope is that, together, we continue creating a legal community where people can do both. Helping the legal community thrive isn't only about responding when people are struggling - it's also about creating workplaces where more people have the opportunity to flourish in the first place.
Creating healthier legal workplaces is something we do together, and learning together is one way we move that work forward.
If these ideas have resonated with you, or if you're interested in helping create healthier workplace cultures within the legal profession, we'd love to continue the conversation this November.
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Whether you're experiencing workplace challenges yourself, supporting a colleague, or simply interested in helping create a healthier legal profession, we hope you'll join us as we continue working toward a legal community where more people are able to thrive.
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