بِسْــــــــــــــــــمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمَنِ الرَّحِيْمِ
It has been a while since I last poured my thoughts into words.
Last week was not my best. It left me feeling uncertain and shaken about my future. For a moment, I felt paralysed, unsure how to move forward in life. The thought of returning to housemanship crept into my mind again, but my heart, still fragile from last year’s emotional turbulence, whispered that I’m not ready. The truth is, most of the time, I question if I even want to be a doctor anymore.
I gave myself space to pause and reflect. I asked myself difficult questions. Why did I leave? Why couldn’t I stay longer? Why did I let go when I should have held on? A part of me feared that I took the easy way out, the path some would call weak or cowardly. But after sitting with my thoughts, I came to realise a simple truth: I lacked a strong support system. I thought I could handle everything alone. I was wrong. And life, in its own way, taught me that the hard way.
Support is a privilege, one I didn’t truly have. Growing up, I wasn’t particularly close to my parents. My emotional anchor was always my friends. They saw me in a way my family never did. I shaped my life around that idea, relying heavily on myself while depending on my friends for comfort. Over time, I became fiercely independent, hyper independent even. Especially after high school, I began to embrace solitude, often isolating myself whenever I found myself in the darker corners of life. I convinced myself I was stronger that way. But now I realise that independence without connection can quietly erode you from the inside.
If I could have a copy of myself, I would hug her. Because she was so, so strong. She survived without support, without feeling truly heard. I often kept my feelings to myself because every time I tried to share, I felt dismissed, even by those closest to me. That pain taught me to retreat. Until one day, Allah gifted me someone different, my now husband. For the first time, I experienced what it meant to be heard with gentleness, to be held with empathy. With him, I never feel like my emotions are too much. That’s one of the reasons I chose him, and alhamdulillah, I believe I’ve made the right decision.
To the outside world, I might look like someone who hasn’t achieved much. I don’t have a stable job. I don’t earn a significant income. But if people could see the inside, they would see someone who has grown in quiet but profound ways.
One of the most transformative tools on this journey has been books, particularly self-help and reflective writing. I picked up reading more intentionally about a year ago, and it has changed the way I think, the way I live. If I hadn’t taken a break from housemanship, I doubt I would’ve discovered this part of myself. In hindsight, that decision, though painful, was a hidden blessing. I now view it as a personal gift from Allah, time to heal, to think, to reconnect with who I am beyond the titles and expectations.
Through this inner journey, I’ve come to realise that many of my values no longer align with the majority. In the world of medicine, the prevailing belief is that success is linear. You graduate, you become a doctor, you climb the ladder. But I’ve come to accept that I don’t belong to that 90%. I am part of the 10% who believes that there are different kinds of success. And that’s okay. I no longer seek to fit their mould. I’ve learned to honour my own.
Still, it’s not easy. The whispers of comparison, the weight of expectations, and the fear of disappointing others, they all creep in. Sometimes, it feels like swimming against the current. But even in those difficult moments, I return to a deeper truth that has carried me through: spiritual growth is the foundation of a meaningful life.
This past year has taught me more about myself, my faith, and my purpose than any medical textbook ever could. It taught me that being “behind” isn’t a failure, it’s an invitation. An invitation to slow down, to learn deeply, and to rise again with intention.
So if you feel like you’re behind, perhaps you’re exactly where you need to be. Because sometimes, being behind is actually an advantage. Say alhamdulillah for everything and most importantly, remember:
وَلَلْآخِرَةُ خَيْرٌ لَّكَ مِنَ الْأُولَىٰ
"And surely the Hereafter is better for you than the first (life)."
— Surah Ad-Duhaa (93:4)
No comments
Post a Comment