Post Ramadan Reflections ‘26

This is just a space for me to share, reflect, and let go. so here goes..

I struggled to connect this Ramadan

To connect to myself, to others, to God, to my faith. Even as I write this, I’m filled with embarrassment, doubting whether I should even post it. There’s a whisper I can’t shake—one that tells me something is wrong. Maybe God doesn’t love me. Maybe He’s angry with me.

It’s a belief I carried throughout Ramadan.

Rationally, spiritually, I know that isn’t true.(well, I hope) To snap myself out of it, I’d close my eyes and imagine the gates of Jannah open—mercy and forgiveness welcoming me. I didn’t feel silly doing this; it was Ramadan, after all. But after a while, I’d slip back into that same feeling of disconnection.

At surface level, I told myself the reason was simple: I was spending Ramadan in London.

The past two Ramadans, I was travelling. Last year, I was with family in Oman. The year before that, I was in Makkah performing Umrah. And the year before that… I honestly can’t remember. It all feels like a blur. Again—disconnection.

Was it because I’d experienced such spiritual highs the past few years, and I was subconsciously trying to top them?

Was I missing my sister, who I’d spent those Ramadans with?

Maybe. But it doesn’t feel like that’s it. It’s not connecting.

What I felt was emptiness. A quiet, persistent emptiness that stretched across the whole month—and one I’m still feeling now.

You see, before Ramadan, I set myself goals that were realistic, but I still didn’t meet them. In fact, I gave up within the first few days. Regret—that’s what this feeling is. I feel regretful, and somehow I’m punishing myself with numbness… yeah, that’s it—regret masked as disconnection.

Or maybe it’s the other way around. Maybe disconnection came first, and regret followed. maybe regret is just the feeling I’m carrying today

Ahh… this is exhausting.

But why did I feel disconnected? That’s the question I keep coming back to. Why couldn’t I just do it all!

“Remember, to just do what you can.”

Those were the last words my therapist said before we took our annual Ramadan break. I remember feeling slightly offended. What does she mean, just do what you can? I thought. I’m going to do more than that. I’m going to go above and beyond.

It’s almost funny now, because I ended up so exhausted—so fatigued—that “what I can” was all I had.

One of the 99 names that kept coming up for me is al Ghaniyy (in Arabic: ٱلْغَنيُّ) sometimes this is translated as The Wealthy, but it is much greater than just wealth, it is The One who is self-sufficient. The Independent, One who is free from dependence, The One without need of anything. The One who transcends all needs.

And there I was, a faqeer (in dire need), of anything especially connection. Spiritually, but also literally.

I was in dire need, and I knew my Lord hadn’t moved. so, why have I moved? and where did I move to? what’s happening?

This feeling of disconnection isn’t new to me. I’ve felt it before, COVID is a great example, I don’t recall much except I was in the kitchen a lot. when things slow down, you’ll find me in the kitchen.

I don’t like baking. Or cooking, for that matter. But when I’m running away from something, the kitchen is where you’ll find me—doing all the things I supposedly dislike. Maybe because it’s something I know how to do. Something I think I can control.

So, I spent the last ten days of Ramadan baking cakes and running cake sales. Red velvets, Carrots cakes, chocolate, I was trying new recipes. Girl, I was on a roll.

And believe me—they weren’t baked with love. They were baked with a whole lot of stress. and apparently stress tastes just as good.

Above: Artist Sumeya (a doodle of a girl in the kitchen, looking slightly helpless holding a sign that reads help)

So… I’m not really sure what now.

But I do know this: I feel stuck, withdrawn and alone. And still faqeer.

And the question becomes, how do I take care of myself? How do I get back to a place I know I’m capable of being in?

Because right now, I feel exhausted.

Not just tired—but a deep, heavy fatigue that’s draining me spiritually, emotionally, physically, and psychologically. I’m not even exaggerating—my bones ache, my skin feels tired. I feel it everywhere.

Burnout.

I think that’s it. I’m burnt out.

Running myself in circles trying to figure out the why, I forgot all else. and that fasting Ramadan is truly for Allah.

Just trying. Just showing up. he sees it all, and more

Ramadan is now over and I hope to see another year, but I know I need to stop the constant stress about the final destination—the why’s and how’s of it all. Just… do what I can.

Maybe that’s what I need right now—to invite some gentleness in… to notice the quiet, subtle ways my Lord is still reaching me even here in this ‘disconnect’.

note to self: Al Qabid, Al Qabid, Al Qabid, Al Qabid! Al Basit, Al Fattah, Al Quddus, As Salam, Al Aziz, Al Lateef, Al Ghaniyy <3