The Gifts of Love and Friendship

When I reflect on our relationship with ourselves, a passage from Imam Abu Ghazali’s Ihya Ulum Al Din comes to mind: “The shell of the pearl should not confuse you about the pearl, nor the form of the spirit about the spirit, nor the outer about the inner. [If you allow this,] you will be one of those who are totally restricted by the visible world from the inner world.” To me, it serves as a reminder that the most valuable things are often hidden beneath the surface. When we spend time measuring ourselves, chasing others, or pursuing what seems desirable, we might risk overlooking the puzzle pieces of ourselves that shape who we are. How we see ourselves inevitably shapes how we see others and whom we choose to let into our lives.

Over the last few years I’ve often been asked, “How much time do you think is sufficient to get to know someone?” My immediate response is that I don’t know. I’ve sat with this question over and over again. I’ve debated the answer to this question with my Uncle Hassan, and his initial response had me looking at him like he was a bit insane. Don’t get me wrong; I adore and respect the man. Interestingly, he asked me the same question again recently, and he shifted his opinion from our initial discussion. The reality is, given my own story, what I’ve read, and what I’ve reflected on and learned with time, you can never be 100% sure, regardless of the timeline you come up with. Three months? Six? A year? The reality is, the deepest parts of a person aren’t revealed on a schedule. To me, all loving, intimate relationships should be based on a foundation of respect and friendship. No one can predict the seasons of life you’ll go through, let alone another person you share a life with, and how those experiences will shape you both. Childhood, experiencing the stressors of adulthood, tragedy, grief, and responsibility, all impact how one can grow and revert. Every experience affects people differently; no two humans are the same. The only thing you can do is keep talking to each other and speak through a curious lens. Co-create life with each other, and keep asking the hard questions when life inevitably changes.

Since we’re talking about love, it's only fair I bring up early 2000s R&B. I was listening to Beyoncé’s Sweet Dreams on repeat, dancing between sentences, nodding along to the lyrics, and typing away at this story. Naturally, I was also singing along (FYI, my voice is terrible!) One verse always stands out to me: “Clouds filled with stars cover your skies… and I hope it rains, you’re the perfect lullaby. What kind of dream is this? You can be a sweet dream, or a beautiful nightmare.”

Intimate relationships will trigger you, and that’s okay. In fact, it's normal. Conflict does not equate to catastrophe; take it as a sign that your relationship is deepening. Use those moments to reflect within yourself and work towards healing. Take it from me: I spent a lot of time learning that in counseling. Do your best not to let your ego get in the way, and when it does, acknowledge your mistakes. Learn how to repair. Be willing to relearn each other; after all, the person you were a couple of years ago isn’t the same person you are today, and who you are today is not the same person you will be a couple of years from now. Sounds scary, doesn’t it? Sit with that part of you that's afraid. A healthy dose of fear is okay, as long as you do not let it stop you from deepening relationships and loving those that matter. Be open to depth with love; there’s only so much inner work you can do on your own deeper parts without letting someone else trigger you. There’s a particular passage from Reclaim Your Heart that’s deeply resonated with me. It’s helped me reframe the way I’ve thought about many relationships, especially love and friendship:

“The true purpose of [a] gift itself is to bring us to God. Even the gift is a means. For example, does the Prophet not say that marriage is half of [our religion]? Why? If used correctly, few other parts of this life can have such a comprehensive effect on the development of one’s character. You can read about qualities like patience, gratitude, mercy, humility, generosity, self-denial, and preferring another to yourself. But, you won’t develop those qualities until you are put in a situation in which they are tested.”

One of Sudan’s most famous singers, Zidan Ibrahim, reminds us in his song كنوز محبة (Treasures of Love) that if we look into our hearts, we’ll find treasures of love and oceans of compassion. You’ll find a longing that sings its own melody. Love that’s spreading its wings, waiting for spring to arrive.

I had the honor of interviewing someone whose strength I admire, Amal, who is an event manager, daughter, friend, Muslim, therapist in training, and a mother of twins who has had to carry the grief of losing a child.

When I asked Amal about what drew her to decide to train to become a Marriage and Family Therapist, she shared with me that the desire stemmed from her own experience with therapy after the passing of her son during a deeply difficult time in her life. Therapy left her with questions about why it can fall short, as well as what it can look like when faith is given a meaningful space as one works towards healing. As a Muslim, she became intrigued by how religion can be incorporated into therapy, researching what was already out there, and, somewhere along the way, her personal questions began to shape a career change. When I asked Amal why she thinks stigma around therapy exists, especially within our community, she sat with the question for a minute, chuckled, and said: “I wish I knew.”

A lot of people, especially immigrants and children of immigrants, stuff down their trauma due to the fear of being seen as weak. You are taught to keep things to yourself. The fear of what others will think about you, or what they will say? As they say in Urdu, "woh kya kahenge." People have a reluctance to open up to someone else, let alone a stranger, for fear of being portrayed as weak. Amal can confidently say that she is breaking this generational cycle, as her 15-year-old son understands the importance of therapy. Since she is an MFT intern, I asked: “How do you not judge your clients?” She says the key is not to jump to conclusions or come to conclusions too quickly, to understand that everyone has their own situation, and to support them. Even in her own experiences with therapy, she asks how she is making sure her own therapist is not judging her when she discusses her faith with her non-Muslim therapist. She asks clients what they do to numb their feelings. Common things can be substances like alcohol or marijuana, digital and screen overload, or, as we like to call it: doomscrolling. Overworking (I’ve personally had to work on this in therapy!) Emotional eating (eating your feelings), isolation, and excessive sleep are common coping mechanisms.

When I asked Amal about shifts in her understanding of love and friendship throughout her life, the first thing that came to her mind was the love she's developed for herself. She mentioned that she's always been fairly independent and she's always enjoyed her alone time. Over the years, she's come to realize how introverted she is and how much she values genuine, meaningful friendships.

When we discussed what it means to love, Amal discussed the places in her life where love already exists, such as her love for her deen (faith), family, and son. We reflected on the intentions we bring into our relationships, and she emphasized the importance of self-love, especially before entering one. To have healthy relationships, you must develop a sense of self that isn't entirely dependent on a romantic partner or spouse. In our communities, we need to ask ourselves and those who surround us: are we pursuing marriage because we genuinely want to build a life with someone? Or are we simply doing so for the sake of being married and checking off a box? Regardless of your marital status, ask yourself what drives you to seek love. Upon reflecting on what romantic love means to her, she almost immediately replied with "Souls colliding. I know it sounds cliché, but I really do think it is." To Amal, healthy romantic love is rooted in compatibility while honoring your differences. There's the spiritual element as well. Can this person bring me closer to God, and can I do the same for them?

For Amal, love isn't only found in the easy moments. It's also about being able to move through the difficult seasons of life together. To be open and honest with each other, and have the humility and vulnerability to show up for one another in the good times and the bad.

Who is forgiveness for? She actually recently attended a خطبه (Sermon) about this. Amal doesn't go to bed every night with a hard heart. Forgiveness is more for yourself. Of course she struggles with this a bit. You’re not saying I forget this. She says every day, “I forgive you. I’m sorry for what I caused. May Allah (God) guide us all.“ Harboring that hatred can do so much to you physically and emotionally. It can consume you. It's a weight lifted once you work through forgiveness. Amal always asks herself during hardships, what is Allah trying to teach me? Most of the time, everyone's going through their own stuff.

I mentioned to Amal that I have a saying I use with my loved ones when I reflect on my personal life. I consistently say that "I am grateful for the good times and hard lessons." It's helped amplify my own growth and reshape the way I think about love by recognizing the mercy and gifts God has given me without comparing myself to others, and by learning that forgiveness and hurt can coexist. We don't have to pretend that you can only have one or the other.

Amal said to me, “You're allowed to hurt.” She reflected on how uncomfortable we can be with grief. Whether that is experiencing our own or witnessing someone else's, we can avoid processing it altogether by using spiritual-bypassing thinking. Oftentimes, we just simply don't know how to support someone who is hurting. Despite good intentions, people can sometimes say the wrong thing to you.

Love requires you to know who you are, allow yourself to feel what you feel, repair and extend forgiveness, and learn to be present with your pain and pleasure. You do heal, but it takes a part of you. You slowly begin to gain back that trust and love. Just because a situation or someone causes damage doesn't mean you stop believing in love. As I’m writing this, I’m saying to myself, “Sarya, you sound like a lovergirl!” But seriously, guys, difficult experiences can always teach us about ourselves if we are willing to do so. Healing isn't about going back to the person you were before the experience; the experience changes you. You won't be the same person, and that's okay. It's also okay to grieve the old version of you that you miss. You'll celebrate and grieve (فرح و حزن) not just people, friendships, relationships, and yourself. I always reiterate: you shouldn't be the same person you were five years ago, and the person you are today won't be the same person you are in five years.

When I asked Amal what she learned as an MFT intern about healthy love that surprised her, she pointed out how little people understand about their partner's love language. This can definitely be applied not just to romantic partners but also to the people closest to us. Ask yourself: “What makes them feel loved?” She mentioned to me how she's witnessed with clients how meaningful words of affirmation can be. A compliment or a few sincere words can light up someone's face and bring a sparkle to their eyes, especially when it comes from someone they love. It made Amal interested in asking questions like "What makes you feel safe and secure?"

Remember, you have to understand yourself to have the capacity to understand another person. As Amal mentioned, "Be self-aware. Recognize what you’re feeling and why you’re feeling that way. Talk to each other. Compliment each other. Admit your feelings.” To repair, understand yourself, your friends, and your loved ones, you need humility. Learn to let go of your ego. Forgive each other and yourself. Realize that you did the best that you could with what you have. I constantly remind myself of this. Amal says that, as a mother, she makes a point of ensuring her son knows she gets things wrong too. "I make sure my son understands that I make faults too."

Amal emphasized and reminded me of the importance of humility in our relationships. It's part of the gifts of love and friendship. After all, they go hand in hand, or at least they should. She reminded me that it can be easy to assume that the people we love already know how we feel towards them. "There's a lack of realization that we're taking our [loved ones] for granted. We need to work on that."

To me, the gifts of love and friendship are not just found in the people we surround ourselves with, but also in who we become through loving them, losing them, forgiving them, appreciating the good times and hard lessons, and allowing ourselves to keep loving.