“I Was Winning Cases but Losing Myself”: A Lawyer’s Silent Battle with Mental Health
By Legal Africa Features Desk
As told to Legal Africa
When Akosua* walks into the courtroom, you see strength, brilliance, and composure. A senior partner in a top-tier African law firm, her name commands respect, her arguments silence opposition, and her wins are celebrated across boardrooms. But behind that legal brilliance was a woman on the brink—fighting an invisible war, alone.
“I was the lawyer everyone wanted on their case,” she begins quietly, “but I didn’t want to wake up most mornings. I was exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally. Yet I kept going. Because that’s what success demanded, right?”
The Cost of Silence
For years, Akosua hid the truth. Behind the black robes and courtroom victories was a soul drowning in anxiety, self-doubt, and overwhelming pressure.
“No one talks about it in our circles,” she says. “You’re taught to be sharp, decisive, perfect. There’s no room for ‘weakness’. I feared what my colleagues would say. Or worse, what my clients would think.”
As a middle-aged African woman rising in a male-dominated field, the pressure was twice as heavy. Every win came with a new weight to carry. Every promotion added another expectation. But inside, she was crumbling.
“I would finish a high-stakes case and go home to cry in the bathroom, or stare at the ceiling until 4 a.m., unable to sleep,” she shares. “I thought I could pray it away. Work it away. Achieve it away.”
The Breaking Point
It was a quiet Tuesday when she finally collapsed in her office. “My body gave out before I could admit my mind had long been begging for help.”
She was diagnosed with severe burnout, clinical anxiety, and chronic stress. The doctor’s words hit her harder than any court verdict she had ever received: “You’ve been running on empty for years.”
The Stigma That Almost Killed Her
Mental health in African professional circles—especially among lawyers—remains a taboo subject. There’s a cultural silence around vulnerability. Strength is revered. Struggle is hidden.
“Even after my diagnosis, I told no one. Not my chambers. Not my clients. Not even my family. I took a ‘medical break’ and disappeared,” she recalls.
But in that quiet space of withdrawal, Akosua did something courageous: she reached out for help.
She began therapy. She joined a support group. She took long walks. She wrote in journals. She sat with her pain, and for the first time in years, she listened to what her mind had been trying to say.
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The Healing
Now in her early 50s, Akosua is still practicing law—but differently.
“I choose my cases. I protect my peace. I work with a therapist. And I speak to younger lawyers about boundaries and mental wellbeing.”
She’s also developing a mental health advocacy program within her firm, something she says she wishes had existed when she was starting out.
“Success is not worth your sanity,” she says with a steady voice. “To think, I almost lost everything trying to prove I could handle everything.”
A Call to the Legal Profession
This is not just Akosua’s story. It is the silent truth of many African lawyers—overworked, under-supported, and afraid to speak out. It is time the profession takes a hard look inward.
Our courts don’t just need legal giants; they need healthy ones. Success should not come at the expense of our minds. We need our minds to operate. We need them to dream, to think, to argue, to serve justice.
Legal Africa stands with every lawyer who is struggling silently. Your wellbeing matters. Your mind matters.
Let Akosua’s story be a mirror. If you’re burning out, breaking down, or barely hanging on—pause. Speak. Seek help. You are not alone. And yes, there is life—and success—on the other side of healing.
*Name changed for privacy.
If this story resonates with you or someone you know, reach out. Share it. Talk about it. Let’s end the silence around mental health in Africa’s legal spaces.
