Coming Down From Being Up

This semester has been a toughie on a lot of levels. Academically it's been intense, but I've not regretted one decision I've made, particularly the decision to take part in this clinic and to have the chance to represent my first client.

It's been really, intensely, truly emotionally difficult. It's difficult to look at my client and realize my partner and I are responsible for her case. It's difficult legally--figuring out the claims we'll make and how we'll support them against seasoned lawyers and judges. It's been difficult from a friendship perspective--feeling really isolated and lonely while all my friends are enjoying their last semester of law school.

I don't know if one of the difficulties has been more difficult than another. They are fundamentally different on a lot of levels. I've developed an emotional connection to my client that is exhilarating and terrifying. On the one hand, I feel truly connected to a cause I believe fully in, and I believe in my client. On the other hand, and on a somewhat harder hand, I feel like I have become really affected by her story. I remember this from the refugee camp--hearing a story and having your heart break a little bit with every probing question asked. Realizing, as each question is answered candidly, the gravity of the work that is being done. Feeling like, at the end of the day, it's hard to separate yourself from your client. I've spent countless nights lying awake thinking about her. About her story. Dreaming about aspects of her story. And they're not good dreams. They're devastating and jolt me awake only to find myself securely scattered between sheets and my comforter.

I guess the above difficulty is directly related to another: feeling a little isolated from my best friends. My gals are the best that exist, but this has been a lonely semester. A lot of time has been spent in my apartment, getting home from school at 10:30 or 11pm on a Friday night. I sometimes wonder if this is foreshadowing of the next few years. I think this is particularly difficult this semester as it is so emotionally tough--both because of my client and the innate fear I feel in my own abilities as an advocate. I've never done this. I've never defended anyone aside from myself. I've never had to sit in the silence that follows a series of questions to determine whether or not my client was a virgin when she was brutally raped. I've had to sit with the stories I've heard, but I don't think I've ever been so connected to the outcome of something as this.

I was at school today from 11am yesterday until about 3:45pm today working on my client's case. I've not slept yet, 36 hours after last waking up. I can't seem to wind down. I've resorted to a glass of wine (or two) with the hopes that will do the trick.

It's hard to come down from being up, I've learned. I stood outside the Law School this morning at 4am, gazing at the haze that hangs over the city on the misty winter/early spring day, indulging in a habit that is admittedly gross, but I'm addicted to nonetheless. It made me wonder, in that quiet sort of moment, if this is what I'm made for. I guess I wonder that a lot. I mean, I KNOW I'm not made for corporate law, but I do wonder if I am made for this.

In the 2.5 years since starting law school, I've never felt so dedicated or emotionally invested in anything as I have in this case. I don't think that's strange, considering the past 5 semesters have consisted largely of lecture classes while this semester consists largely of client representation. But it's more than that--for a moment I feel emotionally invested in the law. Maybe in a person. Certainly in a person.

I wish I had a Yoda to direct me. At times I would settle for just about anyone. But I know that the reality is that I have to rely on myself. It's been a slow lesson to learn, I guess. But it does not make me less lonely. And at the end of the day, or 36 hours, that's kind of how it is. We all struggle with how to deal with the hard in our lives. I'm still working out how to deal with the hard in this case. But it's coming. I promise...And you know what? Talking to my dad at 7:15am, 22 hours after waking up, sometimes is priceless. It's strange, I did not mean to end with this. But there are definitely voices that give reassurance, love, support and, most importantly, understanding. All in all, it's not a bad way to "start" the day. Or end it, with that memory. There is strength in those who unconditionally support.