Expensive Mistakes Self-Represented Litigants Make
In my last post, I wrote about the costly lesson of missing a hearing because we didn’t trust the other side. But that wasn’t our only expensive mistake. Around the same time, we made another error that cost us just as much—and it came from the opposite instinct.
Instead of staying home when we should have shown up, we showed up to fight when we should have stayed home.
The Motion We Didn’t Understand
It started with a motion. The other side’s lawyer had filed a request related to moving the case forward—something about procedural matters that required our consent. I honestly can’t remember the exact details now. What I remember is how it felt.
It felt like an attack.
In our minds, every motion was a battle. Every filing was a fight. The lawyer was the enemy, and our job was to resist everything they did. So when this procedural motion landed, our instinct was immediate: fight it. Object. Say no.
What we didn’t understand was that some motions aren’t really about winning or losing. They’re about process. They’re about moving the case toward trial whether you’re ready or not.
The Mistake of Resisting Reality
Looking back, I realize what was really happening. We didn’t want to go to trial. We wanted the problem to go away. We wanted the other side to realize they were wrong and drop the whole thing. In our minds, as long as we kept resisting—objecting to motions, refusing to consent, digging in our heels—maybe the case would just… disappear.
But that’s not how it works.
Once a case is moving through the system, it doesn’t stop because you resist. It stops because a judge dismisses it, because you settle, or because you go to trial. Procedural motions are the machinery of the system. They’re how the court gets cases ready for trial. Fighting them doesn’t make the case go away. It just makes the process longer, harder, and more expensive.
The Consent We Mistook for Surrender
At one point, the other side asked for our consent on a matter. What I remember is our reaction: consent meant giving in. Consent meant admitting they were right. Consent meant losing.
So we refused.
We didn’t understand that consent in a procedural context isn’t surrender. It’s cooperation with the court’s process. It’s agreeing to move things along so the case can actually be decided. It’s not about who’s right or wrong. It’s about keeping the machinery running.
By refusing, we didn’t stop the case. We just made everything take longer—and ran up legal costs on both sides.
The Cost of Fighting the Wrong Battle
The motion proceeded. We prepared a response. We showed up. We argued.
And we lost.
Not because our argument was bad, but because the motion was never really about winning or losing. It was about process. The judge granted what the other side asked for, and we were left with a bill for their legal costs.
We had spent time, energy, and money fighting something that was always going to happen anyway. The trial was coming. The deadlines were coming. Resisting didn’t stop any of it. It just made us look like we didn’t understand how the system works—which, to be fair, we didn’t.
What I Wish I’d Known About Procedural Motions
Here’s what I understand now that I didn’t understand then:
1. Not all motions are created equal.
Some motions are about substantive issues—things that could decide the case. Those are worth fighting. But many motions are procedural. They’re about scheduling, disclosure, or trial readiness. Fighting them is often futile because the court’s priority is moving cases forward, not stopping them.
2. Resisting reality doesn’t change it.
If the case is going to trial, it’s going to trial. Procedural motions are how the court gets there. Fighting them doesn’t make the trial disappear. It just makes the path longer and more expensive.
3. Consent is not surrender.
Agreeing to a procedural request is not admitting the other side is right. It’s acknowledging that the case needs to move forward. Courts expect parties to cooperate on process, even when they disagree on substance. Refusing to consent without a good reason can backfire—and may even cost you in costs.
4. Ask yourself: can we win this?
Before fighting any motion, ask the hard question: What’s the likelihood the judge will rule in our favour? If the answer is low, consider whether it’s worth the fight. Sometimes the smartest move is to let it go and save your resources for trial.
5. Not every battle needs to be fought.
We were so used to being in fight mode that we forgot to be strategic. We fought everything because fighting felt like the only option. But litigation is a marathon, not a sprint. You have to pick your moments. You have to conserve your energy. You have to know when to stand your ground and when to let things pass.
The Lesson We Learned Too Late
We learned this lesson the hard way—by losing a motion we never should have fought, and by paying for it in costs and credibility. But we also learned something valuable: being a self-represented litigant means being strategic, not just stubborn.
It means understanding that the system has its own logic, and you can’t fight every part of it just because you’re angry. Sometimes, the best move is to step back, assess, and ask: does this matter? Can we win? And if not, what’s the smarter play?
We didn’t ask those questions soon enough. But I hope someone else can.
This Happens Everywhere—Especially in Family Law
Looking back, I realize our mistake wasn’t unique to condo disputes. This dynamic plays out in courtrooms every day, particularly in family law. In divorce cases, it’s common to see unrepresented parties refuse consent on procedural matters—not because they have a legal reason, but because they’re hurt, angry, or simply cannot accept that the marriage is ending.
They resist every filing, object to every motion, and refuse to cooperate on scheduling or disclosure. And like us, they often learn the hard way that the court’s machinery keeps moving whether you’re ready to let go or not. The system doesn’t stop because you’re in pain. It just keeps going—and leaves you with the legal bill.
Why I Wrote Condozilla
This mistake—fighting a motion we never should have fought, refusing consent because we mistook it for surrender—is exactly why I wrote Condozilla. The legal system doesn’t come with a manual, and self-represented litigants learn by doing. But doing means making mistakes, and mistakes can be devastating.
Condozilla takes you on the journey of Clara and her mother as they navigate the legal system without a lawyer, fighting to save their home. Through their story, you’ll see the pitfalls, the misunderstandings, and the hard lessons—so you don’t have to learn them the same way I did.
Because sometimes, the best way to prepare for the system is to see someone else walk through it first.
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