I woke up startled in the middle of the night. As I quickly checked my phone to see what time it was, I could see the episode I was watching still playing. I shook my head in disappointment as I closed it. I had fallen asleep again mindlessly watching a show I had watched a thousand times.

The clock read 11:59 pm. Good. I wasn’t too late.

I walked to the bathroom on autopilot and made wudu. Before I knew it I was out, feeling in the dark for my prayer clothes. The moon, a shiny pearl in the middle of the vast darkness, caught my eye as I paused to look out the gigantic windows in my room. A question suddenly popped into my mind.

Why are you doing this?

Do you really believe that this stuff is true?

“Yeah. I do.” I said out loud without missing a beat

How come?

“because there is no way that all the stuff that Allah mentioned in the Quran could’ve been known by a mere person,” I said into the dark as I put on the hijab.

“Because everything that Allah said is coming shows up exactly how He says it. Every time. That can’t be a coincidence. It’s a code that never fails and is never wrong”

Then why do you only live it half the time?

I felt the question coming but it stunned me to silence. After a silent beat, I began my prayer without answering.

I do this sometimes. Have debates with myself about long-held beliefs. I wasn’t ready to be dragged to filth though on this late night. The simple question held too much truth for me to swallow it gently.

Why do I only practice my faith half the time?

As a born Muslim, Allah gifted me with parents who introduced me to Islam beautifully from the get-go. I saw, clear as day, that no other explanation for the world made more sense than the one Islam provided. Every other faith I encountered seemed lacking. That simple truth didn’t make me immune to living other ideologies.

Repeat a lie often enough and it begins to seem like the truth.

Unless you actively fight to stay awake, you will begin to believe the narratives that constantly surround you. Without knowing it, I began to mimics the ways of life I witnessed. That question in the middle of the night came from an obvious observed contradiction.

On one hand, I fight myself to pray my prayers on time and complete my religious obligations. I try my best to spend more time with the Quran. On the other hand, I seek my happiness and enjoyment in a narrative that is completely devoid of Allah:

“Life is short. Let your desires guide you. Have as much fun as you can with whomever you please before you die. No one is watching. Just have fun.”

It seems that this night, my two ways of life came to a collision. As I pushed myself to leave the comfort of my bed to pray, my brain couldn’t keep up with the switch and a natural inquisition occurred “Wait, we believe in that stuff?“

The thing is for a long time I was underwater, suffocating. I didn’t realize I was suffocating because the illusion of freedom was so intoxicating. As the poison set in, a stark truth became clear. There is no freedom in following desires. Only a pit of darkness that makes you forget what real light feels like. You dig and dig thinking there is something at the end only to realize there never was. No matter how deep you dig, there will only be dirt and a massive hole you can barely climb out of.

I am still waking up. The question solidified to me that my heart is still in this fight. I am striving to truly seek my happiness where it lives with Allah is. Every day is a struggle. Some days I taste real joy and never want to let it go. Other days I forget and find myself in the middle of another hole, not remembering when I started digging.

I made a promise to myself a few years back. At the time, I was devastated by my incapability to be a perfect slave of Allah. I promised myself that no matter what happens, no matter how far or how deep I dig, I will always run back to Allah. This will be the only constant in my life.

The only identity I seek to be stamped on my story is تائبة

a Repenter. Forever and always.