Strange Bedfellows
Bob's visitation with db got moved up an hour earlier as of tonight. Thank God. Getting home an hour past bedtime, all wound up with no place to go, wasn't so good for either of us. Neither was sitting around most of the evening waiting to leave. So this is a good situation for everyone.
We were put in a waiting room (or holding cell?) when we arrived that was full of people, and I do mean full. Kids and adults stacked on top of one another. I'd brought a file with me that I had hoped to dictate on (stupid records summaries), but to do so surrounded by people seemed, well, weird. I was afraid I was going to end up sitting there staring at the wall for an hour, but after a few minutes, a social worker came and took all the people away, leaving Bob and I alone. Phew. Then a woman and two girls, one a teenager and the other maybe 8, came in. In another minute, the social worker came for bob and the younger girl. The older girl stayed with the woman (I assume her mother), and they camped out on the Bad No-Legged Sofa across from my chair.
After a few minutes I asked them if they would be bothered by my dictating. Mom said no, and joked that it was a good thing I'd told them what I was doing, or they'd have thought I was some crazy lady talking to herself about x-rays and scapholunate widening. I'd gotten through about three office visit notes when the woman asked me what exactly it was I did for a living.
Before I knew it, the dam broke, and I was telling this woman my life story. Well, not exactly, but I was certainly offering information. She was initially looking for answers from someone who had experience--as an outsider--with family law. I answered her questions from my limited knowledge. I wasn't sure I could give her any answers, but I forget how little the average person knows about how legal cases actually work--what happens at a hearing (depends on what it's for), how judges interpret testimony (in my opinion, unfortunately, just like every other human interprets what goes into their conscious), how long it takes to get a trial (depends on a lot of things), etc. But it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to our personal opinions of the family court system and abusive exes.
At any rate, I ended up doing most of the talking. It wasn't what I expected to be doing tonight, but it felt good to talk to someone who I got the feeling knew what I was talking about. At one point, I mentioned that my whole reason for ever seeing db was that, in the beginning, I felt sorry for him (as if)--and a look of total understanding came over her face. "That's exactly how I felt at first, about--him."
To connect with another person who has been where you've been, a place most people just can't even fathom--well, it's pretty powerful stuff.
Before I knew it, the kids were back and we were all leaving. I didn't get her name, and I didn't give her mine. I assume she'll be back next week. Maybe we'll end up in the same room again; maybe not. I'd be glad if we did but even if we don't meet again, I know she's out there.
And that helps.
We were put in a waiting room (or holding cell?) when we arrived that was full of people, and I do mean full. Kids and adults stacked on top of one another. I'd brought a file with me that I had hoped to dictate on (stupid records summaries), but to do so surrounded by people seemed, well, weird. I was afraid I was going to end up sitting there staring at the wall for an hour, but after a few minutes, a social worker came and took all the people away, leaving Bob and I alone. Phew. Then a woman and two girls, one a teenager and the other maybe 8, came in. In another minute, the social worker came for bob and the younger girl. The older girl stayed with the woman (I assume her mother), and they camped out on the Bad No-Legged Sofa across from my chair.
After a few minutes I asked them if they would be bothered by my dictating. Mom said no, and joked that it was a good thing I'd told them what I was doing, or they'd have thought I was some crazy lady talking to herself about x-rays and scapholunate widening. I'd gotten through about three office visit notes when the woman asked me what exactly it was I did for a living.
Before I knew it, the dam broke, and I was telling this woman my life story. Well, not exactly, but I was certainly offering information. She was initially looking for answers from someone who had experience--as an outsider--with family law. I answered her questions from my limited knowledge. I wasn't sure I could give her any answers, but I forget how little the average person knows about how legal cases actually work--what happens at a hearing (depends on what it's for), how judges interpret testimony (in my opinion, unfortunately, just like every other human interprets what goes into their conscious), how long it takes to get a trial (depends on a lot of things), etc. But it didn't take long for the conversation to turn to our personal opinions of the family court system and abusive exes.
At any rate, I ended up doing most of the talking. It wasn't what I expected to be doing tonight, but it felt good to talk to someone who I got the feeling knew what I was talking about. At one point, I mentioned that my whole reason for ever seeing db was that, in the beginning, I felt sorry for him (as if)--and a look of total understanding came over her face. "That's exactly how I felt at first, about--him."
To connect with another person who has been where you've been, a place most people just can't even fathom--well, it's pretty powerful stuff.
Before I knew it, the kids were back and we were all leaving. I didn't get her name, and I didn't give her mine. I assume she'll be back next week. Maybe we'll end up in the same room again; maybe not. I'd be glad if we did but even if we don't meet again, I know she's out there.
And that helps.
posted by Mitzi Green at 8:57 PM
1 Comments:
I am glad for you. It does help to know that you are not the only one.
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