Nothing Left to Give

I am not sure if it was coming back after time off for Thanksgiving or what, but this was an unusually tough week at work.

I started with a pair of difficult mediations that went late both nights, but ultimately settled.  Difficult facts, excellent but demanding attorneys - those things often go hand in hand - emotional clients, and late nights.  It was a satisfying feeling to help the lawyers settle both of the cases and I was happy Wednesday morning but I quickly ran out of gas as the rest of my week got crazier and crazier.

By 9:00 a.m. Wednesday morning, I was fighting with two attorneys already, and had three long meetings to get through at work.  Thursday was similar.  That, combined with staff issues and a couple of clients in real crisis, and by Friday morning, I didn't have anything else to give . . . to anyone.  Opposing counsel, staff, clients.  I even went for a 4 mile run at 10:15 p.m. Thursday night to clear my head.  

I should have taken Friday off - a mental health day, if you will - but I couldn't because there was too much to do.  I went in my office, closed my door, and interacted little, if at all, with anyone in the office.  Of course, an unplanned client meeting appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly I had to be "on" again, at least for a couple of hours.  I managed it, then thankfully, changed into my running gear at 4:00 p.m. and ran 6 miles to Harlinsdale Farm, on the grassy trails, then back to the office. 

Being a divorce lawyer is a demanding job, at least the way I do it.  

Part of it is the job itself.  People, good people, often come to see me at the lowest point of their lives.  I am someone - a divorce lawyer - they never thought they would need in their lives.  Someone they never wanted in their lives.  At our first meeting, the people are filled with regret, disbelief, anger, disappointment, incredible sadness, anxiety, fear, and uncertainty.  Quite literally, a maelstrom of emotions.  

I connect with these people on a personal level.  That's just the way I do it.  I always maintain my objectivity but I think I have been blessed, or cursed, with the natural ability to empathize with others.  That, of course, includes my clients.  I joke and tell them I am not Dr. Phil but, in a way, I guess I am.  Although I encourage almost all of my clients to see a therapist and I am careful not get out of my lane, sometimes I think the way I do what I do - with so much empathy - places me in a similar role as a therapist, with the added responsibility of guiding them through the legal quagmire of a contested divorce case.

Honestly, I had not given this much thought until this morning, over coffee at Portland Brew, but an "empath" is defined as "a person who is highly attuned the emotions and feelings of those around him."  Science is divided as to whether there are true empaths - those who can tap into and take on the emotions of those around them.  I do not think I do that, mostly because my job - my oath - requires me to be objective, but sometimes I wonder.

Apparently, empaths are vulnerable to developing depression, anxiety, emotional burnout, or addiction.  Emotional burnout?  That hits home, at least on occasion, particularly after a week like I just had. 

I give so much of myself to my clients.  I am not saying that's the right way to do what I do for a living, but it is the way I do it.  It is the only way I know how to do it.  I care deeply for my clients, every one of them.  When I meet with them, when I talk to them on the telephone, I have to be "on."  So often, I have to be the decider and assist them in making some of the more important decisions they have had to make in their lives.  That can be a lot, again, depending on what I have on my calendar in a given week.

On top of that, when I mediate family law cases, I work incredibly hard to connect with the parties over the course of the day, as we work toward the resolution of their case.  As I think about it, I try to find where they are emotionally and meet them there, so I can better understand their point of view, process it, and effectively communicate it to the other side.  I put a whole lot of myself - all of myself, really - into the mediation process over the course of a day.  That can be all consuming but I think it is part of what makes me good at mediation. 

I am supremely confident in my abilities to help parties, and attorneys, settle difficult cases.  I am convinced that there are not five other mediators in town who could have helped the parties settle one of the cases I mediated, for two days, earlier this week.  And, afterwards, to get a hug and a handshake from both parties, in different rooms.  Is that a bit arrogant?  Probably, but I work very, very hard to prepare for mediations and to settle cases when I mediate.  

What does all this mean?  I don't know.  I have to take care of myself in a profession that can and will consume me, if I let it.  In many ways, I love what I do.  But, sometimes, when I combine what I do with managing our staff at work and mentoring my younger attorneys, it is a lot.  In fact, it can be overwhelming.  

I guess - no, I know - that's why I need to get up on Saturday morning, like I did this morning, and go get coffee, by myself, to clear my head.  It's why I have run, alone, with a podcast or music.  It's why I have to read, every night, to lose myself in a novel, a memoir, or a biography.  I have to empty my vessel, emotionally, and recharge my batteries.  

Is there a lesson here?  Probably.  Do I know what it is?  No.  But it helps to think about it and to write about it.  

Monday is a new day, a new week.