Alright, so I woke up at 3 am.
I didn’t think this would affect my mood. I didn’t think this would flip my attitude upside down. I didn’t think I’d be trapped in anxiety for the next 24 hours.
Or, maybe this has something to do with my echo-cardiogram. It’s taking place today at 1:00 pm. I didn’t know I had problems with my heart. I just had chest pains; never considered I’d have heart problems. Age 32.
And maybe there’s a deeper reason.
You see, Allah is always with me; I am the one that has strayed.
I don’t do my prayers anymore. I talk about people behind their backs. I’m sure I do alot of other non-Islamic and/or haram things, too, I just don’t have time (nor do I want to) list them all here.
I’m tired. Tired of wishing my anxiety away. Tired of day after day feeling confused, torn, angry. I feel like I have given up hope, only this is not the first time I’ve felt that way. I’ve given up hope lots of times. And the only thing that ever brought me back was the remembrance of Allah.
If you don’t know about Islam and you don’t know the truth about Muslims, you probably are reading this post right now and feeling confused. What is she talking about? What is this blog about? Well, it’s about me. I am a bipolar disordered Muslim in complete disarray. Yes, I am medicated. Yes, I take my pills on time. But do I pray on time? No. When I pray, I feel it is an act of worship and meditation. It benefits me and my mental illness and essentially, all the other parts of my life, too.