“Have a good day, counsel.”

“Take care, bro.”

I was so lost in thought I could barely see as I walked past the metal detectors towards the courthouse’s exit doors. But then I slammed on the brakes. Wait. Was that a judge I dropped a “bro” on?

I rushed five blocks back to my apartment. I did not notice anything because I was consumed by catastrophizing internal chatter. Does His Honor think I disrespected him? If so, he’ll definitely chat about my blunder with the other judges. Welp, the world needs ditch diggers, too.

I emailed the judge when I was back home, apologizing profusely for my lack of awareness. I explained that I was on autopilot as I left the building and didn’t intentionally speak to the judge as if he was a buddy I surfed with.

He was super cool about it. The judge told me he did not hear my salutation because he was focused on his thoughts.

It is disappointing to think about the number of connections I could have made, the wonders I would have observed, and the lessons I might have learned if I had not bought into the voice in my head. The chatter is constant. And I probably can’t shut it down.

I am striving not to engage the inner-talk. If I do not respond, I am present in the moment and better able to respond appropriately to an elected official.