MIDLIFE HEALTH & WELLBEING: On grief, careers and teenagers

by Charlotte Bradley

Bereavement forces changes upon us just when it is hardest to take them on board

I welcome Resolution’s focus this issue on those at the more senior end of the profession as I have friends and peers (in their 40s and 50s) who are finding this time of life challenging, and, as a result, are taking steps in their professional lives to reduce the pressures they face and/or free up time.

I am definitely part of that cohort, with the not unusual sandwich of teenage children (my 15-year-old twins are in the midst of GCSEs), and a widowed and aging mother who is in poor physical health.

I have had particular personal challenges in the last three years with the death of my father, sister and, most recently in Autumn 2024, my former husband (my children’s father). As I said in a blog I wrote in December 2024 around grief (www.kingsleynapley.co.uk/insights/blogs/diversity-matters/grief-awareness-week-learning-to-live-with-loss), I have suddenly been given VIP membership to the one club that none of us want to join, the Grief club (as it is often known).

Grief of course is something that all of us, including clients, have faced or will face in different aspects of our lives as a natural response to loss, be it the loss of a person, relationship/marriage or even a job. However, the bereavements I’ve experienced (something which I know many other family practitioners are also facing while juggling a busy family practice and possibly raising children) is certainly not something for which I was ever prepared. As I said in my blog, in our society, people are reluctant to talk about death and everything that surrounds it, emotionally and practically. I’ve quickly become an expert in the huge practical ramifications following death, such as organising three funerals, clearing houses, and applying for probate (using some of the skills I’ve developed as a family lawyer), but these are things I can control and have managed well. I have learnt however that, while I am resilient, and can easily organise all the “deathmin” (as it’s sometimes called), the emotional affects have at times felt overwhelming, including dealing with the emotional fall out and navigating the relationships with those going through their own forms of grief.

As family practitioners, facing and supporting clients’ grief and emotions is part and parcel of what we do day to day, but it has been important for me to understand my limitations and know when I should step aside or take time out. While we advise our clients and our colleagues of the importance of self-care and good mental health, senior practitioners are not always good at recognising the need to step back ourselves. If you’re someone who’s a “coper”, and used to juggling all the different aspects of our lives, we put pressure on ourselves to keep it all going wonderfully. But we need others around us; be that family, friends, colleagues or paid professionals, to point out that it’s important to say no, not just for us but of course also for the clients who we assist.

Fortunately, in the last year, I had just stepped down as head of team and had stopped working full time (without knowing the further challenge of a third bereavement just ahead), but remained part of a close group of Family partners who I knew were there for me and were honest with me about what I could delegate or not take on while respecting my wish to still work. While it’s different for all of us, seeing a new (legal) client and getting stuck into meaty financial disclosure was a great distraction for me, whereas I decided not to take on some other things, such as a couple of mediations as I knew my emotional equilibrium had been affected.

Despite some of the challenges of our cases and clients, the job (which I still enjoy and realise I am good at), provided stability at a time of flux, not least as it was something I could control. This awareness of my limitations and the need to free up time remains the case now at another period of stress – managing two sets of GCSEs as a single parent – but, unlike managing my children’s revision and emotions/hormones, I can control my work…!

Retaining some semblance of control meant that in the weeks after my children’s dad’s death (once those overwhelming waves of grief, which I call “juggernaut” feelings had subsided), I went into overdrive by reading (and listening) to lots of advice and theories around grief, not least so that I had a better idea of how best to support my children (some of the resources I found helpful can be found at the end of this article).

One thing I found from my “grief reading” was that, for me, the theory of the five stages of grief (which most family law practitioners know) does not fit well with grief following bereavement. (I say “for me” as I know Nigel Clarke, in his accompanying piece, has found the theory helpful.) I feel that grief following bereavement is not linear and you should certainly not always expect to reach the fifth and final stage, ‘’Acceptance’’ (the person who developed the model, Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, was describing people facing their own terminal illness, not grief following another’s death). The Dual Process Model has resonated more with me, which in short means the griever will oscillate between confronting the loss and avoiding it (ie coping with it at times but seeking respite at other times).

 

Fortunately, over the last year, I have, very timely, had the benefit of professional and peer support as part of two sets of training I’ve done, to qualify as a coach (with Barefoot Coaching) and as a Family Law Supervisor (with the FLiP faculty), both things in which I had been interested but had not had the time to do while being a full-time equity partner and head of team. Both courses provided me with the opportunity to talk through the mid-life challenges I’ve faced with trusted trainers and peers, and helped me get used to my changing role at work (despite the fact that this was a decision I had thought long and hard about, it still took a little time to properly get used to handing over the reins!). Having just had my last day of training in reflective supervision, and working with my volunteer supervisees, I can really see the benefits of external reflective supervision/practice. More about this later in the year as Reflective Supervision is going to be addressed in the Family Solutions Group’s latest consultation, which I’m co-ordinating, looking at expectations of the family legal professional in 2025. (While the deadline for the survey is formally closed, it is remains open and we still welcome responses via https://kn.legal/family-solutions-group)

From many years of managing and supporting a large team of lawyers who are new parents while juggling their careers, and having experienced those years myself, I know that they are challenging and exhausting, with sleepless nights, fending off all those bugs etc. As I look back, I feel regret that I didn’t enjoy my twins enough, including the evenings when they would shout with excitement when I came through the door or when one told the other that the following day was a “Mummy day!”, making me feel guilty about being in the office. Nowadays, I’m afraid that it is only Arthur, our cocker spaniel and Ringo the cat who welcome me at the door (while I shout repeatedly up the stairs “I’m home”, sometimes without a response!). But still, with two (unexpectedly grieving) adolescents doing GCSEs, the wise words of my mum really ring true: “as teenagers they think they need you less but they need you more”. My experience is that it is now that my children really need me around, even more than when they were young when I could delegate much of the care to kind child carers.

The kind of support they need now can’t be delegated but I still rely on the emotional support from others, ideally good friends to offload to and laugh with – those who don’t pretend that they’ve smashed parenting and/or have been through the teenage years with older children. I definitely have more sympathy for clients who tell me they want to take a step back from work rather than increase their hours now the children are teenagers (which the Family Court tends to expect). And, as my children have got older, my bar as a “good enough” parent has definitely lowered – as long as my children still speak to me and their mental health is (generally) ok then I’m winning.

I am an optimist and, looking on the bright side, I remind myself that you only properly learn from the more challenging experiences, not the successes, and those experiences have I think made me wiser and a better family lawyer, as well as encouraging me to develop my other interests and skills. I have been fortunate in that I’ve stayed in good health (not suffering from the menopausal symptoms my friends have had), I have a supportive family and close friends, and I’ve been at the same firm for almost 28 years so have lots of fantastic colleagues who have been there for me and stepped in when needed.

The other unexpected and positive effect of bereavement for me is that things that might have stressed me before can easily be put in perspective and laughed off. For me, nothing is as bad as losing family or friends that you love. For example, I’m not phased about the fact that, straight after GCSEs, my kitchen extension will need to be re-done as I’ve recently discovered (on the first night the kids had been left on their own when all the electricity went off!) that rats have been living and eating everything under my kitchen floor and in the cavities for many years. When a friend asked me why I was so relaxed about it, the words of my 1980s favourite band UB40 (sorry not cool) – came to mind. “There’s a rat in mi kitchen what am I gonna do?” the answer is “I’m going to fix that rat, that’s what I’m gonna do’’, and I’m just relieved it is fixable (albeit at great expense), the GCSEs will be over, we’re all well and healthy, and most importantly we can laugh at my (former) poor taste in music.

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