Feeling comfortable in your own skin – why does it take so long to achieve? I’ve spent years feeling self-conscious in a crowd, stammering over how to respond to new acquaintances, struggling with finding the ‘right’ dress style, stiffening when presenting myself in new situations… the list goes on.

All this, I sense, is because of being unsure of exactly who I am and where I stand with myself. When you aren’t sure where you stand with yourself, where is the hope of knowing where you stand with others?

I’m sure some of the problem stems from temperament. Choleric and sanguine people would feel it much less. They might even not identify at all with what I’m trying to say. Whereas I’m certain melancholics and phlegmatics will know exactly what I mean. I can therefore safely assume that half the world suffers from this problem.

Getting to the root of the issue is difficult. What exactly is it that causes this vague lack of feeling comfortable and ‘right’ with the world of people? That sense of: ‘I have nothing to be stressed about in this social context, yet I know I’m not relaxed. I know I’m not completely being myself.’

For me, this matter manifested most clearly through my struggle with clothes (though it was subtly everywhere in my life). Finding that perfect dress style that expresses ‘the real me’ has been elusive. “Am I Bohemian, Funky or Traditional? I know I’m not Sophisticated or Trendy” The result of over thinking this has been that I usually leave the house looking like the Bag Lady.

Why obsess about clothes? Really it’s a symptom of a deeper crisis. Our clothes project an image, and we are inside them looking at others looking at us. Clothes are our flags of recognition for the outside world. Whether we are aiming to impress others or express ourselves, clothes matter more than most of us would like to admit.

As children we wear what adults dress us in, until a time when we start to exert our clothing preferences. For me there were some cultural confusions that compounded the matter. I’m half Indian and half English. Which half would claim my outward expression? This dilemma epitomised the deeper problem of “Which half do I feel I belong to?” The answer always came closest to neither.

For the first half of my life I couldn’t analyse this. Clothing and its deeper issue of comfortable rightness with the world was dealt with as a random succession of individual outfits, either sewn with great enthusiasm and anticipation (until I saw the reality of the less than dream-like result), or worn passively because it was given to me, and was therefore an expression of what others perceived I ought to look like.

I lived in the Middle East for a few years and wore the traditional black abaya most days. One might think that this would fix the problem, but it doesn’t. The dilemma just becomes more subtle. It also becomes disturbingly about class, and which fancy boutique you bought your perfectly cut and shaped abaya from. I still wound up looking like the Emirati Bag Lady, with my floppy abaya, and lack of high heels and sequined handbag.

In mid-life, I started the long process of questioning everything about how I was living my life, and digging down to the roots of matters. I took a long, hard look at clothing. I decided that because I was so ‘ungrounded’ in my own culture (well, I don’t really have one and that’s the problem), I’m a bit of a lost soul when it comes to dressing.

I decided that the root problem was one of identity. Being quarter Afghani (on the ‘Indian’ side) made me fantasize about being born in a little village, somewhere on an Afghan hillside. If I had, I would have grown up knowing exactly who I was and would have faced the world comfortably in that knowledge. I would have worn colourful dresses and flowing dupattas (traditional, long scarves), knowing that they were right for me. The way I fitted into the world would be forever grounded in a childhood spent running through fields with a bunch of goats.

I spent a long time lamenting this and being almost angry about my lack of cultural definition. It took a lot of time and soul searching, of fixing inner diseases of character one at a time, and of sitting and contemplating things with complete honesty with God – to finally stop feeling resentful and as if I was continuously treading water and trying to keep afloat in social contexts.

Know yourself to know God. This is what our teachers advise us and it is truly a great piece of wisdom.

If you can’t face God honestly and tear down the barriers between yourself and Him, then you can never be comfortable in your own skin. If you can’t face Him with every ugly vice that you force yourself to look at bare-faced without cringing away, then how will you face the world and have an honest interaction with it?

When you have gone through this painful process, you come to know that He, the most important Being, already knows how base you are in character and He hasn’t rejected you. In fact, He has guided you with Love; so much so, that you now know He is with you every step of the way.

This Love of His trips you up and makes you fall flat on your face so many times that after a while you stop counting. Every time it happens, you know that He is watching you and metaphorically chuckling, like a benevolent parent.

You make a thousand mistakes, you behave grossly, and still He picks you up, dusts you off, and teaches you how to do better.

If you’ve been through all this with Him, until finally you know a whole lot more about yourself and you know that He knows everything, then what problem is it, after that, to step out into the world and face people? Does it matter that they don’t see you at your best, when you know that He already knows you at your worst? Living and experiencing all this is what makes you begin to feel comfortable in your own skin.

I finally came to a point of orientating my framework properly. I set my face towards Allah and accepted the way He had designed things for me. I accepted that my being born and raised halfway in everything—a jack of all trades and master of none in the realm of cultural identity—was my qadr (fate) from Allah. He gave it to me in His infinite Wisdom.

That acceptance was when I began to feel a relaxation start to take hold. That’s when I started to feel a smile creep onto my face while walking down the street, knowing that if I wanted to, I could jump up onto a wall and walk along it without fear of reprobation. I finally felt like I could just be myself and not worry about the possibility of ‘myself’ not being good enough.

Knowing that my unique identity is good enough for Him suddenly makes it good enough for me and everybody else. I now know that if I want to go out and skateboard, I’ll go out and skateboard. If I want to sit in a park and write in my journal, I’ll sit in a park and write in my journal. If I want to be quiet at a gathering and people-watch rather than talk, I can do so without feeling the need to explain myself.

This freedom to relax and accept myself in Allah’s sight has, almost surprisingly, given me the sense of joy in dressing that I was searching for. I can now wear my skater dresses and motley collection of scarves with something approaching pizzazz, and ‘carry them off’. I’m comfortable with them. They are me. They are not a half-English girl trying to be Indian, nor are they a half-Indian girl trying to be English. They are just ‘me’.

I suspect that I still often look like the Bag Lady. But now I feel that I can just laugh and embrace her. She is me, and I’m okay with that.

“I push you a little harder because we can all go a little more than we think we can. But I don’t want you to collapse.”

I reflected on these words and how we can apply them to our spiritual life. Just like our bodies are stronger than we think they are and can carry us a little farther than we expect them to, so can our soul. Our souls were made by the Creator for the Creator. The need of the soul is to connect to its Maker. There is always a little more we can do to strengthen that connection. Waking up for fajr (the morning prayer) is hard. On some days it may feel downright impossible: too tired, too much work, not enough time. But once we give ourselves that push, and understand that it is Shaitan (Satan) or our own doubts that are limiting us, we realize that we can do it. And that feeling we get after prayers – after connecting to God in those early hours – is indescribable.

On the other hand, we must know ourselves and know our breaking point. Once the Prophet ﷺ (peace be upon him) walked into the mosque and saw a rope hanging in between its two pillars. He asked, “What is this rope?” The people said, “This rope is for Zainab who, when she feels tired, holds it [to keep standing for the prayer].” The Prophet ﷺ said, “Don’t use it. Remove the rope. You should pray as long as you feel active, and when you get tired, sit down,” (Bukhari). Zainab would pray to the point of exhaustion such that she needed a rope to keep her standing. Praying when you are tired, but are still able hold yourself together, would be commendable. But standing to pray when you are physically going to collapse, which would probably adversely affect other areas of your life as well, is not.

Aisha radi allahu `anha (may God be pleased with her) also once narrated that a woman would “not sleep at night because she is engaged in prayer.” The Prophet ﷺ said disapprovingly, “Do (good) deeds that are within your capacity, as Allah never gets tired of giving rewards until you get tired of doing good deeds,” (Bukhari). This is the same Prophet ﷺ who prayed in the night until his feet swelled. So his statement is not saying not to make an effort. The lesson is to know the difference between pushing ourselves further and breaking ourselves.

Pushing ourselves helps us to feel stronger with time and gives us energy. Just like doing extra sit-ups slowly increases your muscle capacity such that you feel better and are able to do more with time, pushing ourselves spiritually is going that extra step. It means praying when we don’t feel that high. It means making du`a’ (supplication) even if we are numb. It means setting 4 alarms for fajr even when we are tired. And consistency will enable us to feel the effect. Not only do we eventually feel spiritually stronger, we notice the barakah (blessing) of that hard work in our daily life. And the best example was the Prophet ﷺ, who was present when he was with his family, present when he was with the people, and present when he was with his Lord. One did not adversely affect the other. On the contrary, they complemented each other.

Breaking ourselves has the opposite effect. It weighs down our souls. It increases the burden. Our hearts shut down. It has a negative effect on the other responsibilities in our lives. This is not necessarily specific to ritual acts of worship, but anything that we consider a virtue. We may have heard that the righteous never complained – which is a beautiful trait to have – but our interpretation of that virtue prevents us from seeking necessary help for our situation. But Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exalted is He) gave us those means for a reason. Allah does not want to break us, but rather, to build us.

The Prophet’s ﷺ way was one of balance. Closeness to Allah (swt) brings tranquility of the heart, not anxiety. That effort in the gym may cause sore muscles the next day, but over time everything improves, and you are stronger. Similarly with our spiritual endeavors, know yourself so you can push harder, but not collapse.

When I was seven years old, I used to attend a halaqa (religious lesson). We would learn what I would call today the Islam of “no’s”. One summer day upon entering class, my teacher and I got into this dialogue.

“What is this?” My teacher glared at the shiny bracelet around my tanned wrist.

“It’s a bracelet; my grandmother got it for me.” I said nonchalantly.

“Didn’t I tell you jewelry is haram [forbidden]?”

“But it’s silver. Boys can wear silver. My grandma got it for my birthday.”

“Didn’t I tell you it is haram to celebrate birthdays?” His expression was more serious.

“But all we did was go to McDonald’s and eat chicken nuggets.”

“Didn’t I tell you McDonald’s is haram?!”

Seriously, that’s what happened. Growing up, many Muslims constantly heard the word “no”. “No, you can’t do that”, “no you can’t eat that”, “no you can’t see that/listen to that/touch that”. I heard a joke once that some masjids (mosques) should be called “No Happiness Allowed” Centers. Surely, boundaries are necessary in life, but what happens when we focus entirely on them?

When we are constantly reminded with what we are forbidden to do, we develop a relationship with God that is based on fear and anxiety. Psychologically, a self-destructive trend develops: a trend of fear of punishment, worry about going to hell and a constant feeling of guilt which overcomes the joy of God’s presence and blessings in our lives. Some of our brothers and sisters have developed severe obsessive-compulsive disorder because of this trend. The term is called scrupulosity and it is a dangerous and sad state of being. I once consulted a brother who would take one hour to make wudu’ (ablution) and two to three hours to pray. He would repeat rituals over and over again until he got them perfect. He did this out of fear that his prayer would not be accepted due to his wrong impression of God as powerful and judgmental. I have personally worked with clients who had psychotic breakdowns as a result of this mentality. May the Divine help us.

One of the ways I help such people is by asking clients to re-frame their perception of Islam as a “Yes Religion”. Everything is, by default, halal (permissible) except for what has been made haram. Islam is not merely a religion of regulations and deprivations. We have to look at the “yes” side, the plus side, the blessings and gifts God has actually given us. Living Islam is a path that gives much more than it takes.

Reflect on this:

• We get 24 hours a day, and we are expected to spend about 25 to 30 minutes of the day connecting with our Creator through prayer. That is 1.7% of the day in prayer. The rest is our time. We have twelve months a year. Only one month a year, God asks us to practice self-discipline through fasting and focusing on His worship. Through this fast, we still get to eat and drink by sunset and gain physical and psycho-spiritual benefits. That is 92% percent of the year left to us to eat whenever we wish.
• Yes, God asks us to give about 2.5% of our wealth to those in need, those less privileged than us. But, you still get to keep about 97.5% of your wealth and assets.
• If we are financially and physically able, God calls on us to make pilgrimage to Mecca only one time in our whole life, in return for His forgiveness! Not once a year, not once a decade, but once in our entire life. If you live to be 80 years old, performing one hajj requires only about 0.017% of your time. We can eat and drink everything except the few things which are harmful to us: pork, alcohol, and carnivores like lions, tigers and bears, which are not a common food source for human beings anyway. Other than that, you may enjoy all kinds of food and drink.

There are many more examples that show that Islam is a “Yes Religion”. Prophet Muhammad ﷺ said ”yes” to nearly all requests that came his way, as well as:

• Forgiving people and being patient in the face of wrongdoings.
• Flexibility and tolerance to other people’s culture and customs
• Letting everyone accept da`wa (the call to Islam) in their own time, without passing judgments
• Helping and supporting others
• Being optimistic, friendly, and meeting people with a smile

It has even been said that if it were not for the “no” in the shahada (there is no god other than God), the Prophet ﷺ might have never used the word.

I encourage you to reframe your perspective and make your own list of how Islam gives more than it takes. Focus on what Islam offers more than what it forbids. Let’s get back to this “yes” mentality. Let’s acknowledge the gifts and the blessings, and appreciate all that God has granted us. Let’s turn towards God with love. Let’s pray because we want to. Let’s find joy in existence and look forward to meeting our Lord.

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Karim Serageldin is a dedicated psychologist with years of experience working with the Muslim community. His practice is called Noor Psychology and he facilitates workshops, counseling and life coaching, with an integrated approach of Islamic spiritual values, contemporary psychology and scientific research.

Photo: Ashley Ringrose

By Meltem Baykaner

The day of Eid al-Adha last year was happily spent with my husband’s side of the family.

With the men in one room of my brother-in-law’s house and we women in the other, we laughed as the children bounced around us excitedly, concentrating on one of the activities thoughtfully set up for them for no longer than a few seconds at a time before moving on to another.

Meanwhile, the adults sat around the table, having just eaten, saying alhamduliLah (praise be to God) for the good food and company. As my sister-in-law commented gratefully on how the meal had turned out to be just the right amount for the entire gathering—each member of our party having contributed one dish to the spread—I agreed and commented that I was glad, because “I always worry that there won’t be enough food for everyone.”

Months have passed since then and only now have I realised what a strange and unnecessary anxiety that is to feel.

In a society where every street offers a host of fast food places and express supermarkets, with websites telling us to Just Eat whilst offering a multitude of top-rated fast food chains, where ready-made food is constantly available every day of the year like it never was before, I was concerned that “there won’t be enough.” Such an anxiety is not only unnecessary, it is greedy.

In Dr. Muhammad Ali al-Hashimi’s book The Ideal Muslimah, he observes that a person should “not eat to excess […] just enough to maintain [their] health and energy.” The idea of neither depriving your body of food nor over-indulging it to preserve good health is not a novel one, but is perhaps one that we no longer observe as we should.

Allah subhanahu wa ta`ala (exhalted is He) says, “Eat and drink, but be not excessive. Indeed, He likes not those who commit excess.” (Qur’an, 7:31) This message is conveyed to us repeatedly by Ar-Razzaq (the Sustainer), but have we ever considered how we commit excess all the time by over-spending, over-eating and essentially over-doing? And have we reflected on the effect that this may have on our minds, our bodies and most importantly, our relationship with Al-Wadud (the Loving), as highlighted in this verse?

Dictionaries will define greed as excessive desire, and waste as useless consumption, and we have been explicitly warned against these things. Perhaps now is the time to heed the warning—and not just with regard to food and drink—before we sink further into what seems to be the new global norm, where appetite for more is unquenchable.

Each one of us has a personal struggle. Perhaps there is something you have been indulging in so frequently that it has become mindless routine for you, and you are no longer aware of the detrimental effect it is having on you, on your wealth, or on your time. Perhaps you are ready now to consider what it could mean, how you could benefit in mind, body and soul if you were to change your way of thinking and limit this indulgence.

Of course, change must start within ourselves, and as I consider the changes that I can begin to make in my life, to do away with the excess that is taxing all my human faculties, I urge you, reader, to do the same; may Allah (swt) make it easy for you.

”O you who have believed, let not your wealth and your children divert you from remembrance of Allah.”(Qur’an, 63:9)

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I would often find myself worrying about things and draining my energy. Yes, it would lead me to prayers, but also depression. When prayer leads you to depression, it means that you are doing something wrong. Prayer is hope. Prayer is faith. Prayer is uplifting. Prayer is not constant worry.

I learned this after moving to this new city. The first couple of weeks were great, but right after that, my husband would come home upset. We had relocated, thinking that he had found the perfect job. However, in a couple of weeks, we were devastated. He began hating his job. He complained about his boss. He did not like the work. But here we were, and still are, bound by a long-term contract with the company.

He would text me from work to tell me how much he despised his job. He would come home stressed. Our happiness, our dreams, our tranquility in life had disappeared. Being the only person he could open up to, I felt helpless. I would cry for hours on my prayer mat. I did not know how I could help him. The kids were sensing our worries. It was difficult.

I prayed constantly for ease. I prayed and prayed. That is all I did. I would ignore my kids, I would ignore my house, I would ignore my chores, and prayed. This led me to constantly be thinking about the problem:

Prayer was leading me to worry.

One night, it occurred to me, prayer should not lead me to worry. Prayer means putting your trust in God, subhanahu wa ta’ala (exalted is He). Prayer means asking for goodness. Maybe there is goodness in this difficulty that we cannot see. I have to stop worrying about that over which I have no control. I should work on that over which I have control.

So, I changed my approach to prayers. I offered my five prayers, and even some optional ones, but instead of worrying constantly, I began thanking God (swt) for His blessings. I would pray for ease, but with the knowledge that there must be ease in this struggle. God (swt) is great. His wisdom, His sight, His reasons are beyond the human capability to grasp.

With my thankful attitude, I began to cheer the house up. I focused my energy on my kids. I started to learn how to make applications for Android. I started to cook regularly. I would feed my kids before my husband would come home tired, so he could have a quiet dinner to recollect his thoughts. I began to pour my heart out to God (swt) early in the morning, before the sunrise. I found my peace. Thanks to the Almighty (swt).

Peace comes from inside, not outside. Peace comes from working within your circle of influence. My husband is still unhappy at work. He still comes home upset. But I have found the way to charge my energy and be his support. I am embracing the experience, for God (swt) must have a reason that is beyond my wisdom.

اللهُمَّ لا سَهْلَ إلا مَا جَعَلتَهُ سَهْلا وَ أنتَ تَجْعَلُ الحزْنَ إذا شِئْتَ سَهْلا

Allahumma la sahla illa ma ja`altahu sahla wa anta taj`al ul-hazna idha shi’ta sahla.

“O Allah! There is nothing easy except that which You make easy; and You make the difficult, if You wish, easy.” ((Ibn Hibban in his Sahih (no. 2427) and Ibn As-Sunni (no. 351). Al-Hafidh (Ibn Hajar) said that this hadith is authentic. It was also declared authentic by Abdul-Qadir Al-Arna’ut in his checking of An-Nawawi’s Kitabul-Athkar p. 106.))

May God (swt) continue to strengthen our souls and ease our difficulties.  Ameen!

Psychologists tell us that human beings go through five stages of emotion when struck with a calamity. Understanding the different stages of grief minimizes the first four stages (which are denial, anger, bargaining and depression) and gets us to the final stage – which is acceptance. I went through these stages on many different occasions, as I am sure you have.

I am not a psychologist nor am I trying to refute the works of psychology, but I would nonetheless like to offer a different view, a Qur’anic view, on how to deal with life’s trials.

Though we do not have a say in when we are born nor in when we die, life has a clear beginning and a clear end. What is sometimes unclear is the journey between the two points. For Muslims, however, the journey could not be any clearer. Allah says in Surat Adh-Dhariyat:

“And I (Allah) created not the jinn and mankind except that they should worship Me (Alone)” (Qur’an, 51:56).

Now think back to the first paragraph of this article. You might think to yourself, “I pray five times a day, I fast during Ramadan and pay my zakat, yet I have an ill child, or still can’t find a job, or this stressor or that.”  You begin to wonder why you are going through this and why you are being “punished.” Before you know it, shaytan takes the helm and you are on a slippery slope of anger and denial.

Before falling down that slope, one must take a deep breath and ponder the following question: is it punishment or is it a manifestation of what Allah has told us in Surat Al-Ankabut:

“Do people think that they will be left alone because they say: “We believe,” and will not be tested?” (Qur’an, 29:2)

Allah tells us that through this journey we call life we will be tested. In Surat Al-Baqarah, He says:

“And certainly, We shall test you with something of fear, hunger, loss of wealth, lives and fruits…” (Qur’an, 2:155)

Tribulations are a part of life but that doesn’t make them easy. We still grieve — but how could we not? We are, after all, a very emotional creation. So how does one cope with adversity? There are many ayat in the Qur’an that talk about different mechanisms of coping such as patience, faith, prayer and acceptance. But what I find the most profound and the most comforting is what Allah says in Surat Al-Baqarah:

“Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear…” (Qur’an, 2:286).

If you stand back and take a look at the whole picture, you will realize that what you have when faced by a tragedy is a choice. Will you go through the stages of grief, denying Allah’s destiny and the wisdom of His plan for you? Or will you realize that what you are going through is something you know you can handle? Whatever trial comes your way is something that Allah has planned and which He has guaranteed you can handle. This ayah is comforting because I, as a faithful mu’min who believes in Allah and His wisdom, know deep in my heart that although the sadness is cumbersome it will not be overwhelming; that although the times might be tough, I am tougher; and that whatever comes my way will go away; and that eventually I will face my Lord whom, I hope, will be pleased with me as I am pleased with Him.

So when you go through a difficult situation, be it the inevitable death of a loved one or the loss of a job or just a flat tire on the side of the highway, take a deep breath and say:

“Say: ‘Nothing shall ever happen to us except what Allâh has ordained for us…’” (9:51).