I experienced a grieving process recently when I realized I could no longer practice the pillars of Islam as I once could. This is because my mental illness makes it such that I’m not always conscious of my behavior, actions and intentions. These are necessary ingredients along with presence of mind, age of maturity, competence, knowledge of right and wrong and so forth, in order to fully practice the religion in its entirety. And also, to be culpable for its various legal rulings. 

As I’ve gotten older, however, and entered menopause, my mental health has declined, or rather changed. I no longer know myself. And my chronic health issues make it harder for me to concentrate. Though I’ve had EDS since high school, narcolepsy and cataplexy took over my entire life at the age of about 40. I was stuck on pause for months, if not years on end, not knowing how to feel or act and not knowing what was wrong with me. I knew my dedication to the Quran and my commitment to learning was suffering yet I wasn’t sure why. It made me extremely depressed and frustrated. 

I kept starting and stopping my religious studies, fighting with myself trying to get back into my old groove. But exhaustion and malaise won out time and again. I had no stamina and no drive. I could feel people’s belief in me slipping away and that pushed me further into depression and confusion. On the surface I had all the answers, but my soul didn’t believe I was the same person as before. I thought I was just a failure in general and a bad person, a bad mom, a bad friend, a bad Muslim. Really I felt like I was bad at everything. So I just gave up. 

I gained an exorbitant amount of weight and slept about 18 out of 24 hours a day, even with my narcolepsy and mental health medications. I just couldn’t seem to get out of bed and live. And I couldn’t practice any part of Islam either. It made me so very sad. I felt utterly unprepared for that aspect of my life with mental and chronic illness and I found myself resentful. “Why didn’t anyone warn me?” I often thought to myself. 

Fast forward to several years later and 45 pounds lighter!!! After several attempts at trying to decipher what was wrong with me, I realized that I was depressed. Majorly depressed. When I was a new Muslim, I loved everything and it was all fun. I could stay up all night and memorize anything I attempted maxhaAllah. I loved learning and I so enjoyed praying in the middle of the night. I loved involving my non-Muslim family in my quest to learn a new way of living, and I was always happy and light-hearted. Now, however, I missed that. I missed those days and those friends. And I missed my healthy mind. I missed me. 

But I finally grew tired of grieving. I decided instead of remaining stagnant, I’d see what I could do for myself. I began to ask questions of knowledgeable Muslims about my situation, and I sought scholarly advice about how to practice, given my condition(s). I didn’t try to go it alone or guess at what I should do.

This Ramadan that just passed was different for me in that I took things very slow. I just worked on re-establishing my relationship with Allah and the Quran. I didn’t read a juz (1 part of the Quran) a day as per usual. And I didn’t make it to the masjid, though it’s directly across the street from me. Surprisingly, I felt fantastic on Eid day. It was like a rebirth. I felt like I was learning to accept myself finally for the first time, maybe in my life. 

It’s challenging being a seriously mentally ill Muslim. Especially when you weren’t always so. You have to readjust and relearn things in a way that’s painful. But it can be done inshaAllah with patience, dua and Allahs help.