Life's Quirks

The juvenile courthouse on 700 West lacked any architectural psychology to reinforce that you were entering a hall of justice. The single story building sat indistinguishable from the manufacturing district around it. The sign out front labeled courthouse did little to instill a sense of awe or respect. If you needed privacy, this was not the place to come. The building offered no conference rooms or private areas for lawyers, social workers, families, and the accused to discuss sensitive issues like sexual and physical abuse, illicit substance use, accusations of criminal conduct and other personal matters.

Despite its failings, it was the very simplicity of the the building on 700 West that allowed me to participate in a conversation that I remember almost every day. I find it difficult to overstate the influence that conversation has exerted on my life. I had been speaking to a client in her native Spanish. After we finished, and while waiting for my next hearing, a 26-year old father struck up a conversation with me asking where I had learned Spanish.

He actually deduced correctly that I had learned Spanish in Spain. Like many people he recognized the accent and the proper pronunciation reflected by the use of the theta when saying words with a z or ci, and ce. He then surprised me by telling me that he had been in Spain on a university study abroad program years earlier. After sharing memories of common cities we had visited we parted as my case was called.

So what could be so memorable about that conversation? This man suffered from a severe case of bipolar disorder that inhibited his ability to properly care for his children. The medication that he needed to take caused him to feel like a stranger in his own body. That feeling caused him to regularly disregard medical advice. That choice allowed him to feel more true to himself but resulted in serious risks to his very young children.

On that day, I realized that I was not much different than he. Although a few years older, my life experience was very similar to his. I excelled in school, I went to university, I lived in Spain, I married and had two children of my own. What was the difference between us? Well, in my early 20s the chemicals in my brain did not change in a way that would make me dependent on medication to regulate my emotions and thinking.

A small switch at a railroad station can send a train on a completely different track. Immediately the difference between the intended destination and the actual course will seem small, yet each passing moment reveals that a very small change can cause a dramatically different result. To this day I am grateful for a simple building that changed the track that I was on.  So yesterday, today and tomorrow I will strive to be kind to all, especially those who can't see the world the way I can.