ADHD, and disconnection deepened her struggle until recovery reshaped her path
Nicole Letourneau doesn’t just speak about addiction – she dissects it with the precision of a lawyer and the vulnerability of someone who’s lived through its darkest corners. As counsel with the Ministry of Natural Resources legal services branch, she occupies a demanding role in corporate commercial law. But behind her daily work on contracts is a decade-long battle with alcohol addiction – one she now shares openly in a profession that rarely allows space for imperfection.
Letourneau’s legal career began in government and largely stayed there. “I do primarily procurements, transfer payments and other corporate commercial agreements... mostly related to construction, large infrastructure projects on Crown land,” she says. Her path into public service wasn’t originally intended. “When I went to law school, I initially wanted to do immigration and refugee law... but I ended up being a research assistant for my environmental law professor,” she says, noting the experience influenced her career trajectory.
But that same path was shadowed by anxiety, perfectionism, and a growing dependence on alcohol. “My addiction happened gradually... beginning in 2011,” she says. By 2020, it had escalated into a full-blown crisis. “During the pandemic... it really escalated, and my work really started to suffer,” she says. Her mentor raised concerns with the leadership in her department, and a subsequent conversation with her director changed everything. “They [said], ‘Look, we're not judging you. We're really concerned about you’... and you're on leave starting right now,” she says. They had already spoken to her union and they said “take all the time you need. We just want you to get better.”
It wasn’t the first time she had tried to seek help. Years earlier, after a difficult secondment, unprocessed grief from her father’s recent death, and a separation from her ex-husband, she asked for time off. “I was told that... I can’t give you time off just because you’re sad,” she recalls. That denial kept her spiralling. “The embarrassment and guilt and shame feelings... really hit me, and I started drinking more to escape that.”
Letourneau doesn’t just want to destigmatize addiction – she wants to dismantle the ignorance around it. “It rewires your brain chemistry,” she explains. “When you drink alcohol... it floods your brain with these feel-good chemicals... then your brain stops producing them. That’s when you get that come down and crash.” For someone neurodivergent, like her, with ADHD and anxiety, the danger is amplified. “There’s already a baseline deficiency of the feel-good chemicals,” she says. “Alcohol was the only thing that quieted my constantly racing anxious thoughts.”
Her addiction wasn’t hidden from everyone. She’d confided in a close colleague and mentor. But the isolation of working from home during the pandemic created a dangerous vacuum. “Previously... I was hiding it a lot better. I couldn’t appear to be wasted in public,” she says. But at home, “I was at home alone,” and the addiction worsened.
The turning point came with her mentor’s intervention. Yet, recovery wasn’t immediate. “I did my first medical detox and entered my first intensive outpatient rehabilitation program... upon completion, I immediately relapsed and repeated this process a few more times before it finally stuck.”
Since 2021, Letourneau has been in recovery. She credits that journey with helping her rebuild not just her health, but her legal practice. “The main thing for me... has really been developing a clear intrinsic sense of self,” she says. “I cared a lot about the way that others saw me... now it’s not that I don’t care, but it’s not the main thing.”
She sees this shift in mindset as crucial for the profession. “It’s about fostering an environment where people are encouraged to develop [confidence] intrinsically, rather than through comparison to others and... solely through production.”
Her advocacy is grounded in connection – a key recovery principle. “There is a saying in recovery that ‘the opposite of addiction isn’t sobriety, it’s connection,’” she says. That human connection has come through her involvement with Voices for Mental Health and speaking at legal conferences. “I’m not a fan of small talk... but if someone wants to tell me their life story, like I’m here for it,” she says. “This has given me an avenue to be open and vulnerable... and when you do that, it encourages other people to be open and vulnerable with you.”
She first found inspiration in a similar act of vulnerability. “When I saw Orlando DaSilva at the Mental Health Summit... talking about his addiction, it was such a relief,” she says. “That’s when I contacted Beth [Beattie, a fellow government lawyer and mental health advocate] and said I wanted to join [Voices for Mental Health] and make this part of my recovery.”
Still, speaking out hasn’t been without its complications. “It’s easier for me when I’m talking to people and they’re all strangers... but I’ve told my story to people that included [those] in my office,” she says. “That’s when [I thought], oh god, they’re going to know everything.” But the reactions were often more understanding than she expected. “I had people come up to me and say, ‘I had no idea... I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you.’”
She hopes the profession is changing – but acknowledges change is slow. “There can be a lot of lip service paid to mental health, and then not a lot of real action,” she says. But there’s progress: she was part of a working group that did a mental health needs assessment at the Ministry of the Attorney General. “I think it’s about putting it into action and not just talking about it... but talking about it is the first step.”
Recovery, for Letourneau, has meant gaining skills she never imagined she’d have – and some she didn’t know she needed. “I’m not shy to ask for help anymore... or to tell my superiors if I’m overwhelmed,” she says. “It’s made me a better team member.” Physically and mentally, she says she’s sharper now. “I was underestimating how much alcohol was affecting my energy levels and cognitive function.”
Today, she’s filled her life with healthy routines: dance classes, addiction counselling, hobbies, and connection. “I’ve learned to be kinder to myself and others because a mistake is only a failure if you stop trying,” she says.
And for those still in the fog of addiction, unsure what sobriety might look like, she has a clear message: “Even the most difficult sober days can’t compare to how hard it was living in active addiction.”
Editor’s Note: This article was amended from the original to clarify that Letourneau had requested time off partly due to unprocessed grief from her father’s death.
