They whisper that some lawyers come to court drunk.
It’s true.
Some do.

But what they don’t whisper, because no one ever says it aloud, is why.

They don’t tell you that sometimes, the silence after a client’s conviction is heavier than the judgment itself.
They don’t tell you that the smell of prisons and police stations lingers long after you’ve gone home.
They don’t tell you that when a client breaks down in your office, you have to stay composed even when you want to scream too. They don’t tell you how twisted it can be to defend the indefensible.

So yes, some drink. Some pop pills. Some go numb.
Because the human mind isn’t built to carry that much stress and sorrow every day and still be rational.

You see, in this profession, we are taught to argue, not to feel.
We are trained to win, not to heal.
We are told to “keep it professional” even when a client’s story keeps us awake at 3 a.m., replaying every question we could have asked differently.

No one checks on the lawyer who just lost a case that took several years to build.
No one asks how the judge sleeps after sentencing people to decades in prison.
No one wonders if the judge who looks stern from the bench went home to an empty bed after signing a “death warrant”.

We all perform composure – the stiff collar, the steady tone, the polite “Most grateful, My Lord.”
But inside, many of us are just trying not to unravel.

There are lawyers who drink quietly in their cars after adjournments.
There are lawyers who cry in their chambers and wipe it off before the next client walks in.
There are lawyers who forget birthdays, relationships, even themselves, because burnout doesn’t knock, it just moves in.

We joke about it, “litigation will drive you to drink”, and everyone laughs.
But beneath the laughter is a truth too raw to touch:
Some of us already have.

Because how else do you survive a system where justice is slow, clients are ungrateful, and conscience is heavy?

Alcohol doesn’t fix it, of course. It just blurs the edges and turns the sharp pain into something dull enough to carry into the next day.

And yet, we show up.
Every morning.
We suit up.
We straighten our ties.
We quote the law.
We make submissions that sound confident even when our souls feel hollow.

Because in court, no one cares if you slept, cried, or drank.
They only care if you can deliver.

The truth is, many lawyers aren’t running from their conscience.
They’re just running from the noise inside their heads – the echo of every voice that ever said, “You failed me” and the twisted truth they told just to win. Others just want to forget how unrewarding the Law can be. So yes, some lawyers come to court drunk.
But most of us are just trying to stay sober enough to keep going.

Lawyer Fredericka