The Doctor Is In...

help (hělp)
v. helped, help·ing, helps

1. To give assistance to; aid.
2. To contribute to the furtherance of; promote.
3. To give relief to.
4. To ease; relieve.
5. To change for the better; improve.

After the college thesis I wrote in my last post, I promise this will be short and simple.

Before leaving to class yesterday, as I was preparing myself a snack, I overheard the television in the living room. Nobody was watching, but it was on nevertheless, switched to one of the Arabic channels available via satellite. I went to see what was up, and on the television sat a suited balding man who had a clumsy way of speaking, almost as if he had some sort of paralysis or speech impediment, next to him sat a Lebanese presenter, immaculately dressed and glowing as she spoke. It didn’t take long for me to recognize this was a Dr. Phil type show where viewers could call in and ask for advice or help from the doctor.

One viewer, Abu Omar from America, phoned in to talk about his son who he had a psychological disorder (7ala nafsiya) and had taken him to get help. I tried to ignore the fact that Abu Omar was living in the USA where he could find thousands of experts, what was he doing calling a stranger from overseas? And what was his son’s problem exactly?

“My son is 25 years old, and he’s moved out of the house! He’s aggressive about not wanting to live with his family anymore.”

As I yelped in my head how does that make your son psychologically impaired? the Lebanese presenter began making excuses for the son. Oh your son lives in America… he’s just imitating the western youth…it’s probably just a phase…

Dr. Clumsy asked whether Abu Omar had taken his son to a psychiatrist or a psychologist. Answer: both.

From his accent, I could tell that Abu Omar was from the same country as my parents, and his mentality was most likely on the same wavelength as that of my parents. I wonder now, if a 25 year old who decides to move out is considered worthy of needing psychiatric help and needing to be "fixed", what would my parents think of me? Not only am I younger than Abu Omar’s song, I come from a household where the only way to move out is marriage (to a female preferably) or death.

I respect the concept of family, don’t get me wrong, but within a family there must be respect for those members who can make their own choices. It should be an assembly that is built on love, not a congregation bound by blood. When will the Abu Omars of the world realize that?