Sunday, September 15, 2013


I'm going to be honest. I had given up on faith a long time ago. I just couldn't see reason of life or death or anything in between or beyond. I won't talk about the reasons for now because that's what they will remain, reasons that led to something worse. A hopeless beginning. But it was a dark path, one where I couldn't find any hope, hope that only faith could have given me.
There were so many times I wanted to come back to it, but I just couldn't find a way, emotionally, mentally or physically. I wouldn't pray, fasting had became a habit, I couldn't get myself to listen to prayer and recitation and feel the same warmth as I had felt at some point in my life. I was lost. There was a constant quiver my heart felt, some anxiety that I fail to explain. Even though I call myself a Muslim, I knew I wasn't being one. And I envied people who truly were. They didn't need any proof or evidence, they're all hell bent strong on their beliefs, nothing can shake them. I envious at their steadfastness, like they're so sure of life, so sure of their God and that He would swoop in to rescue them from every single thing and emotion that even if He didn't, they'd wait for as long as it'd take. This strength And yet I couldn't find it within me.

And almost as vague as being lost had been, I found my way back. It may or may not have something to do with being so adamantly set on being a home maker and a great mom all of my life only to go through 5 years of TTC in vain and then being diagnosed with PCOS and accepting that I really may never be able to be a mother naturally. Maybe I had to reach the lowest emotionally to finally see the light above. I can't say.
Pick one

But I did find light. Today, and I don't know how, I've returned to prayer with all honesty. I don't have any other choice. I can't fight PCOS alone. I need to have that unshattering faith and strength to get me through.

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