I volunteered for this pro bono program to represent domestic violence victims in family court ... it's once every four to six months, Legal Aid did a big training, and I figured even I could handle it. Um, no. No, I cannot.
Set my own client's case aside ... family court is on a floor of the courthouse that I never have to go to. I sat there for two hours yesterday waiting for our case to be called. It was the single most depressing place I have ever been, including hospital wards and funeral parlors. Sure, there are worse places in the world, like refugee camps and Evin Prison. But I saw more people weeping and/or irate yesterday than I can process. Custody disputes, mostly. It's like marinating in human misery.
I have a full helping of Catholic guilt ... I am easily put upon as to things I should do, that someone needs and I can provide. Heck, I give blood regularly even though I am so squeamish that I can't watch Gray's Anatomy without looking away from the surgery scenes. But there's a reason I don't practice family law, and I really don't know if I can go back there. (By the way, Lola, take another gold star for your CASA work.)
On that happy note, I'll get back to my regularly scheduled case load, in which nobody weeps or bleeds or is condemned to a life of grinding desperation.
I don't deserve the props. I dropped out of CASA after my case resolved. It was truly too miserable to deal with. I was threatened and screamed at by the alcoholic mother of the child to whom I was assigned. The family court system is a wreck and I could not bear to be buffeted by the tragic misery and the in-your-face rottenness of that slice of humanity. The poor social service workers who have to do this for their jobs - it is no wonder (according to the series in the newspaper) they burn out!
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Lola