Dear Elinor,
I qualified eighteen months ago and work in a busy family team. Most days I love it, but I keep getting stuck with clients whose instructions I can’t make sense of. One client told me on Monday to accept her husband’s offer on the house “just to get it over with”, then rang on Wednesday wanting to fight for every penny. Another insists I send a letter I know will inflame things with his ex, and he seems to want the letter more than the outcome.
I know my job is to act on instructions, and I always give my advice. But I come away from these calls feeling anxious, a bit useless, and unsure whether I’m meant to be a lawyer or a referee. My supervising partner is lovely but stretched, and I don’t want to look like I can’t cope. How do I work out what my clients actually want, and stay steady while they keep changing their minds?
Lost in Translation
Dear Lost in Translation,
Let me reassure you straight away. Every seasoned family lawyer I know has a story about the Monday client and the Wednesday client turning out to be the same person. The partners down the corridor who seem so unflappable once sat exactly where you are, staring at the phone after a call and wondering what on earth just happened. And possibly flapping much more than you are right now!
The fact that these calls bother you tells me you care about getting it right for your clients. That instinct will serve you well. What you need now is a way of reading what sits underneath the instruction, so the shifts feel less like chaos and more like information.
Separation runs on two tracks at once. The legal process asks for clear, consistent decisions on a timetable. The emotional process is a form of grief, and grief rarely moves in a straight line. Your clients are being asked to make some of the biggest financial and parenting decisions of their lives while their nervous system is under siege.
In therapy we often use an idea from psychiatrist Dr Dan Siegel called the Window of Tolerance. When we’re inside our window, we can think clearly, weigh up options and tolerate uncertainty. When stress pushes us outside it, we tend to go one of two ways:
- Above the window (hyperarousal): anger, urgency, a need to win or to make the other person feel the hurt. That letter your client is so keen to send? It may be his pain looking for somewhere to land.
- Below the window (hypoarousal): exhaustion, numbness, giving up. “Just give him the house, I can’t do this anymore” is often a client who has temporarily shut down.
The same person can swing between the two within a single week, which is exactly what your Monday and Wednesday calls sound like. Instructions given outside the window tend to express how the client feels in that moment. Your task is to help them find their way back to what they will still want in a year’s time.
It’s also worth remembering that the two people in a separation are often at very different stages. The one who chose to leave may have been grieving privately for months. The one who was left may still be in shock. Your client’s instructions will make more sense once you have a sense of where they are on that journey.
A few practical ways to make sense of difficult instructions:
- Get curious about the purpose. Before drafting anything, ask “What are you hoping this will achieve?” A client who wants an angry letter may really want to feel heard, or to feel less powerless. Once you know the need, you can advise on the best way to meet it.
- Reflect back before you advise. Something like “It sounds as though you’re exhausted and want this to be over” can bring a client back into their window faster than any legal explanation. People make better decisions once they feel understood.
- Slow the pace where you can. Unless there’s a genuine deadline, big decisions rarely need to be made on the phone that day. “This is an important decision. Let’s speak again on Thursday once you’ve had time to sit with it” is good lawyering and good containment.
- Put advice and instructions in writing. A short summary after the call protects you and your client. It also gives them the chance to see their decision in black and white, which often prompts a calmer second look.
- Use the Resolution Code as a shared anchor. Its emphasis on a non-confrontational approach and keeping children at the centre gives you neutral ground to stand on. You can frame it as “the way we work”, which feels very different to a client than a personal judgement.
- Take it to an experienced colleague early. Asking your partner “How would you handle this client?” is how good family lawyers are made. Most partners would far rather hear about a tricky case on day two than day forty.
Now, about you. You describe leaving these calls feeling anxious and a bit useless. In therapy we pay close attention to feelings like these, because clients in distress sometimes pass on the very emotions they can’t bear to hold themselves. The helplessness you feel after a call may well be a small sample of your client’s helplessness. Asking yourself “Is this feeling mine, or am I carrying some of theirs?” can be surprisingly steadying. Give yourself permission to mentally pass it back to them.
This is also why therapists never work without supervision, and why I’m a great believer in the same support for lawyers. Reflective Practice gives you a protected space to unpick a difficult case, notice your own reactions and leave a little lighter. It builds confidence and resilience in exactly the way you’re looking for, and it’s something you deserve from the start of your career.
Your role is to give sound advice, help your client reach informed decisions, and record them carefully. Their grief is allowed to be untidy while your work stays steady. Next time an instruction leaves you baffled, can you pause and ask yourself which window your client is speaking from?
If any of this resonates, or if your firm is interested in 1:1 therapy or Reflective Practice sessions for junior lawyers and trainees, do email me at [email protected] or visit my website www.harveyadvisory.co.uk
