Islamic Stories,Rays of Guidance ✓

Becoming a Muslim Again?!

Assalaamu alaikum warahmatullahi wabarakatuh to my dearest readers...

Sharing with u all a story with many lessons..

Posted as received

JUST A LITTLE SOMETHING
HOW I FOUND MY RELIGION AGAIN

I am a Muslim. My parents are Muslim. I grew up in a home where quraan and salah were read daily. My grandfather would recite from his Quran daily, his melodious voice filling the house, so I don't have the excuse to say that my family life was not Islamic, but for a long time in my life, I'm talking years here I simply was not a Muslim. I had a Muslim name. I even attended a Muslim school. The same way I hid my depression, I simply hid the fact that I was not a Muslim in anything but name.

"And whoever puts all his trust in Allah (SWT), He will be enough for him | Surah At-Talaq 65:1-3

That was just it. I was at a point where I simply didn't trust in Allah. I felt that I was overlooked. If He was so merciful and loving to his Umma, why was I suffering like this? Tormented daily by images and thoughts in my head that would bring me to my knees. I would sit day and night and simply say please let me die because death will be better than what I face now.

I did absolutely nothing as a Muslim. Ramadan came and went, I got up for suhoor ., pretended I was fasting the entire day, and when everyone sat down at iftaar and was making dua, my mind wandered. I could not understand how these stupid people in front of me couldn't see my suffering.
Salaah, what was that? Those mechanical actions of dropping to your knees and lowering your head in supplication to what I believed was a vengeful God that showed no mercy. Reading a tasbeeh (prayer beads), what were you doing besides playing with beads on a string? Reading the Quran, why would you read a book you could not understand?

I can hear the astaghfirullah's falling as you read this.

I did nothing!!!!

I partied like an animal, dressed like a hooker, and I felt that this life was perfect for me. The haze that fills a nightclub was enough to blur the reality of my life. Dancing with strangers, surrounded by alcohol, strangers eyes on me, and I could simply escape for a few hours, be numb and blind to the confusion that was my life. Stumbling out of a nightclub at 4 am, hearing the Fajr azaan going and it did nothing for me. I simply got into a car and looked for a 24-hour breakfast place.

I can't remember the exact date that this changed, but I do know it was after my failed suicide attempt. I was laying on my bed after yet another night of insomnia. The sun was streaming through my window, and I was watching the dust particles dancing in the light.  And it dawned on my, that I was alive. I wasn't dead; I wasn't buried in some ditch somewhere in non consecrated ground, I was alive and breathing. I wasn't living, but I was alive.

I laid in bed and waited for everyone to leave the house. I went to my mother's room and got out one of my old madressa books. I had forgotten how to make Ghusl (cleansing bath). I read the book and went to take a shower.
I felt cleaner, probably made a few mistakes and left things out, but it was something.

I got my musallah  ( prayer mat) out, and I swear on my life I was terrified to step onto it. Scared witless, because I was utterly convinced that if I took one step onto it, I was going to be struck dead. I can't even explain this fear; it was overwhelming. I was almost on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

This heathen, how dare she step onto something as precious as a musallah and even attempt this. I stepped back and sat down on the edge of the bed. My eyes focused on the prayer mat like it was some foreign object I had never seen before, or worse yet a carpet full of poisonous snakes that would strike me dead. This was pure unadulterated fear.
I don't know how long I sat on that bed, in some sort of weird standoff with an inanimate object.