The Unhappy Professional
Therapy for Lawyers
You've carried a lot. Something's starting to give.
Maybe it's the drinking that's crept up. What used to be a glass of wine to unwind has become something you need, and you know it.
Maybe it's the marriage. There's distance now that wasn't there before. Or there's been an affair. Or your spouse has finally said the thing you've been dreading.
Maybe it's the anxiety. The racing thoughts that won't stop. The tightness in your chest. The way your body never fully relaxes, even when there's nothing urgent.
Maybe you're not even sure what's wrong. You just know you're exhausted in a way that sleep doesn't fix, and the life you've built doesn't feel like it fits anymore.
Whatever brought you here, you've probably been managing it for a while. Working around it. Telling yourself it will get better when things slow down.
Things don't slow down. And it hasn't gotten better.
What Brings Lawyers Here
Lawyers don't usually reach out because they've decided it's time for self-reflection.
They reach out because something has gotten loud enough that they can't keep working around it anymore.
Some people know exactly what the problem is. The anxiety has a grip on them. The drinking or the coping has gotten out of hand, whether that's food, sex, shopping, or something else. They're looking for help, and they're ready to go.
Others aren't sure. They've been nudged to reach out, or they just know something needs to change. They're willing to show up and have a conversation, but they're not at the place of pinpointing it yet. Their bodies might be running on anxiety they don't even recognize as anxiety.
And then there are the ones who are holding it all together. No mishap yet. They're doing good work, meeting expectations, keeping the plates spinning. But the intensity of keeping it together is making life unenjoyable. They're exhausted, and they're not sure, professionally or personally, where they even want to go anymore.
All three can do well in therapy. What matters is showing up.
The lawyers I work with feel things deeply. Sometimes so deeply that they have learned to shut it down. But underneath the composure and the professional armor, the sensitivity is still there. And because they care, or because they believe they have to be the responsible one, they hold themselves to standards most people never even attempt.
Law does not reward sensitivity. It rewards control. So many lawyers become experts at looking unfazed while carrying more than anyone sees. For a lot of them, law also provided structure. It offered a path forward, a predictable identity, and a respectable kind of independence.
Another pattern I see often is that lawyers can fight like hell for other people but struggle to advocate for themselves. They will speak clearly when it is their job. But when it is their own needs, their own boundaries, their own voice, they often go quiet.
If any of this feels familiar, here is what else might be true. You are exceptionally good at getting things done. You are also exceptionally good at avoiding certain things. Sometimes it is feelings. Sometimes it is a conversation. Sometimes it is the question of whether this is the life you actually want. But avoidance is often part of the picture, not because you are weak, but because it is one of the ways you have stayed functional, successful, and in control.
What I've Noticed
The Weight That Isn't Yours
A lot of lawyers are carrying stuff that isn't theirs to carry.
They carry their clients' trauma and don't realize it's affecting them. They feel their spouse's feelings for them because it's easier than setting a boundary. They carry their parents' expectations, their firm's demands, their kids' needs, and somewhere in all of that, they lost track of their own.
This usually started long before law school. If you grew up in a home where you had to manage a parent's emotions, where you learned to read the room and adjust yourself to keep the peace, where your job was to achieve or perform or not cause problems, then you learned early that your needs come last.
The legal profession is a perfect fit for someone with that wiring. There's always someone who needs you. There's always a problem to solve. You can spend your entire career being indispensable, being the one who holds it together, being the person everyone relies on.
And you can do that for years without realizing you're running on empty. Without realizing that the guilt you feel when you say no is an old wound, not a sign that you're doing something wrong. And without realizing that the reason you can't relax is because some part of you believes that if you stop being useful, you stop being worth anything.
Eventually something breaks. Maybe it's your health. Maybe it's your marriage. Maybe it's a coping mechanism that's gotten out of control. Maybe it's just slowly losing yourself until one day you look in the mirror and don't recognize who's looking back.
That's often what brings people here. And that's what we work on.
The Keep Producing Trap
Here's what I see a lot.
Many lawyers figure out early that if they just keep working, keep producing, keep their head down and get it done, they'll be okay. The work never ends, but that's almost a relief. There's always another brief, another email, another deadline. You don't have to feel uncomfortable or think about things you don't want to when there's always something that needs to be done.
Unlike other ways people avoid their feelings, this one looks like a strength. It's productive. It's billable. It's what makes you valuable.
But it has a cost. You're never really off. Even when you're home, part of your mind is still at the office. You check email at dinner. You think about cases in the shower. Your body is with your family but your attention is somewhere else.
That works until it doesn't. Until the drinking creeps up. Until the marriage falls apart. Until your body starts sending signals you can't ignore.
Some of the most meaningful work I do is with people who come in because of a marriage problem or an affair.
This is because when something that personal is on the line, people stay in the game. They show up. They do the work.
A lot (but not all) of the lawyers I work with are more avoidant at home than they are at work. They can handle conflict in a courtroom. But with a partner, they go quiet. They appease. They sidestep the hard conversations. Happy spouse, happy life. That's the operating theory.
Part of it is self-protection. The conflict at work has a deadline. It ends. But the conflict at home follows you. You can't leave it at the office.
Part of it is that the professional persona gives you permission to be assertive in a way you don't feel you have as just yourself. You can fight when it's on behalf of someone else. But when it's your own needs, your own voice, your own boundaries, something holds you back.
And part of it is that the frustration and stress you can't express at work has to go somewhere. Sometimes it comes out as irritability at home. Sometimes it comes out as drinking. Sometimes it comes out as an affair, or emotional distance, or just disappearing into work so you don't have to be present.
That works until it doesn't. Until the distance becomes too wide. Until someone has an affair, or threatens to leave, or just stops trying.
And here's what I've seen over and over. When someone starts being honest, really honest, about what they've been carrying, that's when things shift. Not from tips or tricks. From truth. That's where healing starts.
When Relationships Bring You In
Going Back
I tell people in the first conversation that if they want real results, we're going to have to look at some earlier stuff.
Not because I want to dig through your childhood for fun. But because the patterns running your life now usually started a long time ago.
The belief that you have to earn your worth through achievement. The feeling that your needs don't matter as much as everyone else's. The guilt when you say no. The inability to relax without feeling like you should be doing something. The voice in your head that says you're not good enough, no matter how much you accomplish. That stuff didn't come from nowhere.
A lot of lawyers grew up in homes where they were only seen if they achieved, carried everybody's weight, or where they weren't really seen at all. Some had parents who were domineering, manipulative, or emotionally unavailable. Not always in obvious ways, but in ways that distorted how they learned to see themselves and the world.
Those beliefs don't announce themselves. They just run in the background, shaping every decision, every relationship, every moment of rest you can't let yourself take.
Think of it this way. All those old experiences, the ones you've told yourself don't affect you anymore, they're like tabs running in the background on your computer. You're not actively thinking about them. But they're taking up memory. They're slowing everything down. And you wonder why you're exhausted, why your thinking feels foggy, why you can't seem to relax even when there's nothing urgent.
When we go back and actually process those things, through EMDR, through understanding where you came from and why you are the way you are, it's like closing those tabs. Suddenly there's more space. You feel lighter. The processing power you've been missing comes back online.
Some people hear that and they're ready. Others hear it and something in them says no way. And that's fine. It just means we're not the right fit yet.
The ones who are ready, we go at their pace. I'm not here to push anyone into something their system can't handle. Your body will guide us. If we touch something heavy and it disrupts your sleep or raises your anxiety in a way that feels like too much, we use that as information. We slow down. We don't force it.
I use this image a lot. If a kid tugs on your sleeve while you're busy, and you ignore them, they keep tugging. But if you turn and say, I see you, give me a minute and I'll be right with you, they settle. They've been acknowledged.
That's what we're doing with the parts of you that have been ignored for years. We're not drowning in them. We're just saying, I see you. That alone starts to change things.
What Changes With Therapy
When this work lands, I see it in people's faces.
There's a softness that shows up. Something loosens. The vigilance starts to ease.
I've seen lawyers stop white-knuckling through life. They find out they can be under pressure and still be okay. That they can face hard things without falling apart. That they don't have to spend all their energy on containment.
I've seen lawyers finally bring up something they'd been carrying for years, whether that's abuse, loss, or a moment that shaped them in ways they never fully understood. And after we process it, they tell me that the memory is still there, but it doesn't control them anymore. Their heart doesn't race. Their body doesn't activate. It just feels like something that happened, not something that's still happening to them.
I've seen people let go of shame they'd been dragging around for decades. And once it's gone, their thinking gets clearer. Their confidence isn't brittle anymore. They stop proving and start living.
I've seen people learn to say no without guilt. To set a boundary and not feel like a bad person. To put their own needs on the list, maybe for the first time ever.
I've seen someone take a weekend for themselves without guilt for the first time in years, and come back lighter because they remembered some part of themselves they'd forgotten.
I've seen people visit their parents and feel compassion instead of anger.
I've seen marriages that were on life support become something deeper and more honest than they'd ever been.
And I've seen people get to a place where they look at themselves and think, I'm actually pretty cool. I like who I am.
That's the work. That's what's possible.
I've spent years working with lawyers and building relationships within the legal community. I've written about lawyer well-being for bar publications. I've had enough conversations with attorneys, associates, and firm owners to understand how this profession works and what it costs.
I understand the billable hour. I understand the grind toward partner. I understand the emotional toll of carrying clients' problems day after day. I understand the way the profession rewards people who can take on more and absorb stress without showing it, and how that reward becomes a trap.
I also understand that most lawyers aren't looking for a therapist who wants them to talk about their feelings for an hour a week with no clear direction. You want someone who gets your world, respects your time, and knows how to help.
That's what I offer. I'm not going to be impressed or intimidated by your credentials. Therapy is a place where you get to choose who you want to be. I'm just going to treat you like a person who's been carrying a lot for a long time and is finally ready to figure out why.
What I bring To This
How It Works
First we talk for 30 minutes, free, no obligation. You tell me what's going on. I tell you how I'd approach it. You get a sense of whether I'm someone you could work with.
If we move forward, sessions are 55 minutes. We meet weekly or biweekly. This isn't the kind of therapy where you check in every six weeks when things get bad. That doesn't work. Not for my practice, and honestly, not for you either.
What I use:
EMDR to process memories and experiences that are still running your nervous system
Psychodynamic therapy to understand the patterns underneath
Parts work when there's internal conflict that needs attention
Details
Private pay only. No insurance.
$250 per 55 minute session
30-minute consultation at no cost.
Virtual sessions in CO, DC, NC, NY, TX, VA, and WA.
Self-Scheduling for Day and Evening Hours
You've spent your career carrying other people's problems. You've learned to be the one who holds it together, the one who figures it out, the one who doesn't need help.
You don't have to carry it alone anymore.
Your ability to work hard, to push through, to analyze and solve problems. If you bring that same energy here, I am confident you'll get what you're looking for.
Schedule a consultation and let's see if it makes sense to work together.
If You're On The Fence
By chance, a number of lawyers reached out to me for therapy over the past few years. With this, I started to understand the profession of law: the pace, the pressure, the type of person it draws in. These clients appreciated my approach, and the growth and healing they desired.
I founded The Unhappy Professional so it was easier for lawyers to find a therapist they could relate to.
Whether it’s healing from childhood trauma, navigating relationship difficulties, or overcoming professional stress, I’m here to help you do real work that actually changes things.
Zack Rothwell, PMHNP
Psychiatric Health Nurse Practitioner
Master of Science - UNC Chapel Hill
Accepting New Clients
Real Questions Lawyers Ask Before Starting Therapy (FAQs)
Why would a successful lawyer need therapy?
Because success and suffering aren’t mutually exclusive. Many lawyers build careers on control, composure, and pushing through, but over time, that can come at a cost: insomnia, detachment, low-grade dread, or chronic irritability. Sometimes, it’s not a crisis that brings someone in, it’s the subtle realization that winning cases hasn’t translated into feeling whole.
What if therapy just feels like someone telling me what to feel?
We get it. Some therapists miss the mark, especially with lawyers. They push too hard or oversimplify what’s actually a complex internal system of survival. A good therapist doesn’t lecture, they listen, challenge, and track what you're protecting. Our approach honors the parts of you that got you here… and helps the ones that are exhausted evolve.
I can’t turn my mind off. Is that something therapy can help with?
Yes, and not with gimmicks. We get curious about what’s underneath the mental churn: maybe work stress, but often deeper layers like grief, betrayal, unresolved family roles, unhealed relationships. Therapy helps you digest what’s fueling the restlessness so that rest becomes something you can access, genuinely and consistently.
Why does my job seem to affect my relationships?
High-pressure roles often flatten your emotional availability at home. But sometimes it’s not just the job, it’s that the job amplifies earlier patterns: mistrust, keeping score, staying guarded. And those patterns may have started long before you passed the bar. Therapy helps you see the origin stories and shift the ones that no longer serve you.
I’ve made it this far without talking to anyone. Why now?
That makes sense. Maybe silence was safer when you were younger. Maybe there wasn’t anyone who could handle what you had to say. That strategy helped you survive and probably succeed. But if its starting to isolate you, therapy gives you a space to use your strengths in a deeper, more sustainable way.
I’m supposed to be fine. I look fine. Why do I feel like I’m falling apart?
You’re not alone. Many lawyers feel this way and feel ashamed for feeling it. The pressure to perform isn’t just professional, it’s cultural, generational and familial. Therapy gives you space to drop the mask without dropping your edge. We help you separate the pressure from the pain, so you can make clear decisions instead of reactive ones.
Why do I feel like I’m avoiding something, like there’s a wall I can’t name?
That wall often protects something real: law school trauma, early family dynamics, betrayals, religious shame, even early exposure to porn. You’ve probably built a life on pushing through. But now? You’re ready to process, not just push. We help you approach the wall with respect and insight, not force. And you stay in control of the pace.
I don’t even know what’s wrong. I’m just tired, and it’s not going away.
That kind of fatigue is rarely just physical. Often it’s the weight of open tabs in your mental browser, things you’ve never had time or space to process. Past relationships, grief, failures, identity confusion, childhood wounds. We help you close those tabs. You get more presence, more empathy, more energy. You don’t lose your edge, you get sharper and calmer.