Ten years ago...

I'm stuck in traffic.

I hate being stuck in traffic. The extra two hours of sleep I've gotten the past two months being on the "easiest" rotations of the year, psych and neurology, seem hardly worth it as I inhale the bitter odor of gasoline and struggle to stay awake in stop 'n go traffic. This morning is even worse as I make the long haul to Livonia to the University Psychiatric Center to meet with Dr. Weiss, a child psychiatrist, who I'll be observing today.

But this isn't the first time I've taken this route, and this isn't the even the first time I'll be meeting Dr. Weiss.

Some time ago, what seems like ions ago, my mother dragged me to this very office building. She was a psych resident and I, a junior in high school. I had been struggling with a recent move and most importantly, with AP chemistry. This one class turned my world upside down. Before taking this class, I had some confidence in my intellectual and scholastic capabilities. Suddenly, I was enrolled in what would be the hardest class I had taken up to that point, and my anxiety was stifling all chances of success. I'd always been an anxious child, but this worry had helped me succeed up to this point; I always had my homework in on time, worked on projects weeks in advance, and always went the extra mile on all assignments. It wasn't that I didn't "get" this material - after all, I had learned it before in regular chemistry class, in which I had done quite well, with a lot of hard work. All of a sudden, I realized that I was surrounded by all the "smart" kids, and I wasn't so sure that I was one of them anymore. I questioned my abilities which effected my performance. I stammered uneasy answers in class, struggled with homework, and for the first time in my life, experienced true test anxiety. The worry effected my grades of course, which only made me worry more. It was an endless cycle, one that my mother was certain to get to the bottom of by this visit to a child psychiatrists office.

And so I went, mostly to find out how a psychiatrist could help an adolescent like myself. By this point in life, I had already decided that I too was destined to go to medical school and become a shrink myself. My mom had rubbed off on me in more ways than one.

So I sat in his office and talked about the problems. The weird thing was that we talked about other things. What I did for fun. How I got along with my family. What I wanted to be when I grew up. It was actually kind of fun, being able to talk about myself and my problems to someone who wouldn't judge or really care about the meat of it. We then talked about my anxiety about school and ultimately, AP Chemistry.

"So, what's the worse thing that can happen, Saba, if you don't do well in this class"

"Well," I reasoned, "it will effect my GPA. I won't have all A's.... or even all A's and a few B's"

"And? is that the worst outcome?"

"Well... if I don't have a good gpa, I wont go to a good college. Maybe I wont do well in college either... and then I wont get into medical school..."

"uh hmmm" Dr. Weiss nodded and suddenly I surprised myself that these were the thoughts that were ultimately going through my head. Later I would realize that the psychological technique Dr. Weiss was using was Cognitive Therapy - uncovering my automatic thoughts, distorted assumptions mostly, about myself, my surroundings and my future.

Dr. Weiss assured me that I would probably do fine, even if I didn't get that A in AP chemistry, and that I would probably go on to go to medical school if that was what I truly wanted. I left his office with my mom, awed by this new power that had just been instilled in me. I realized that so much of my anxiety up to this point in life was based on these faulty assumptions I unconsciously made about outcomes. And I realized that no matter how bad things were, if I couldn't control something, such as a delayed flight in the airport and being stuck waiting at the terminal, it wasn't worth my worry. I could only worry about what I had control over, and even that worry could be transformed into positive energy rather than a negative pull that only kept me from reaching my full potential.

I suddenly find myself at my destination and shake off the nostalgia to return to today. Reflecting on a very relevant past experience from ten years ago, I realize how thankful I am to God. It was only years ago that I came here as a "patient" to talk about my problems, and my constant worry about the future. And now, I was entering those doors again, but this time, as a medical student. The situation reaked with irony. But it made me smile to myself too. With a smile on my face, I push my latest concerns and worries to the back of my mind, reminding myself that things have a way of working out. These worries won't even matter ten years from now, and maybe I'll smile about them then too. With that, I push open the front doors of the office building, and put my best foot forward, as a confident, experienced woman. I have something to offer.

The Need for Female Bonding

The need for bonding: single, married, married with kids, single with kids, married with pet monkeys, whatever - theres this innate need for females to socialize and bond with a member of the same gender. This does not change after one is married.

There's some notion out there that once you've found your soulmate, your heart is quenched, the empty spot in your soul is now full, and you have no need for any additional forms of companionship.

Obviously, a male member of our society came up with this notion.

I dont know what it is, but Fasahat can go for weeks without engaging in some sort of social activitiy while I on the other hand, will go through full-fledged withdrawal symptoms without a healthy dose of good conversation. I almost had a depressive meltdown after one of two and a half weeks of nights on my first rotation, where I slumbered while others enjoyed the summer . I got moody, I got bitchy, and yes, my husband asked me if it was "my time of the month". I realized that there are only so many weekends that can go by without spending some time with good friends.

I know this is a vast generalization, but ill go ahead and propose it anyway: for some reason, it seems guys are perfectly OK without that connection. Most girls Ive talked to about this feel like myself - that making those connections and keeping those close ties effects our sense of self in so many ways. Maybe its an under 30 thing, I dont know (It seems like at 30 all of a sudden u turn into that confident, self sufficent woman you thought you'd never be in ur 20's).

I'm not talking about merely socializing. I'm talking about those heart-to-hearts, those conversations that could go on forever, the stories that are shared that you can so relate to. After I dont know how long, I just spent a few invaluable hours tonight re-discovering just how important this experience is for me. Its food for my soul. Regardless of the fact that I've been married for four years (well... five if you start counting from my nikkah....), I still need that essential female exchange. Talking about difficult experiences such as leaving your family after marriage helps to heal old wounds, long after the event has actually occurred. There are certain core events that occur in a woman's life that must be shared with another, to relieve tension, to dissipate saddness, to at least acknowledge with another that someone else has felt that pain and has also risen above it. Most importantly, it provides us with spiritual nourishment. We admire each other for unique experiences, but most importantly, admirable coping mechanisms. These montras are internalized within us as well, and we use the exchange as a learning experience. We inspire each other to be better, to not settle for less and to expect more from ourselves.

When it was time to part this evening, a familiar warmth filled my body as I hugged my friend goodbye. I smiled to myself, thanking God for another blessing He has given me this month. Fasting, prayers and extra good deeds are essential for spritual growth. For me, relating to another being, solidifying a friendship, and instilling new motivation prod me along that same eternal path.

on Not being chirchiree

Wow, what a tiring week. I'm on probably the easiest rotation of the year (psych), yet why am i so damn tired??? I was fasting yesterday (yup, save em to the last possible moment) and i just came home and dropped on the couch. After waking up to Fasahat offering me some dates and fresh quesadilla i shot back up to get ready for halaqa. Some time between getting up and jetting out of the house (I'm late!) I snapped at Fasahat about something or the other... I apologized before I left and after I came home but I could tell the damage had been done. He had a bad day at work too and had previously told me not to yell at him about anything. man talk about diarrhea of the mouth....

It got me thinking. I was looking forward to ramadan starting - but now im a bit apprehensive about it. Because the combination of no food, little sleep, traffic and being on my feet all day (I cant get myself to buy those expensive Dansco's) makes me downright chirchiree.... and no, there isnt an english word that can capture the essence of that word. Irritable is close. I just cant help it. Of course, I know thats what Ramadan is all about, striving to improve yourself, being patient, being thankful to Allah for all that one has... I feel like the last two years in med school have distanced me so far from the height of iman, taqwa and self control that i had previously achieved. Being patient with the current challenges and tests has never seemed harder. Why does it seem like fasting was a breeze before?

It just means im going to have to make an extra effort to keep that frustration inside, to try to realize how much i have to be thankful for to dissipate it. The hardest thing about this ramadan will be the psychological challenge of keepin it cool. inshAllah i hope i am successful at this task....