"Part 1 – The First Awakening"
"For indeed, with hardship [will be] ease [i.e., relief]. Indeed, with hardship [will be] ease." (Qur'an 94:6-7)
August 2nd, 2025 – 6:14 AM.
The first thing I heard was not the alarm.It was the rain.
There's something about waking up to the sound of rain that makes you feel both safe and unsettled at the same time. Safe—because the world sounds slower. Unsettled—because you know the clock hasn't slowed with it.
The day had already begun ticking away before my eyes opened.
And for me, a day is not "just another day." Every sunrise is a test paper, and every sunset is the moment it's collected back, graded by the only Examiner whose opinion matters—Allah Almighty.
I lay still for a moment, letting the sound of the rain blend with my thoughts.No notifications. No noise. Just me.
Then… the thought hit me: Today matters.
I don't know why this morning felt heavier. Maybe because I could sense that my next steps weren't going to be just another loop of routine. Maybe because I had unfinished business—loose knots of the past that still dangled in my mind.
Or maybe because I knew something was coming, even if I didn't know what.
I got up, sat at the edge of my bed, and let my feet touch the cold floor.
I have a habit—before doing anything, I take a breath and ask myself one question:"Is what I'm about to do worthy of my time, my life, and my Lord?"
It's a question that has saved me more times than I can count.
The morning unfolded with its usual rituals—wudu, salah, a few moments of Qur'an recitation. The air felt clean inside me, but outside… there was a weight. A shadow in the day's possibilities.
I didn't have to wait long to see it.
10:42 AM.
I received a message—a chain of words I didn't want to read.It wasn't haram in content. It wasn't vulgar. But it was heavy. It carried the scent of an old wound, something from my past I thought I had already sealed away.
I could feel the shift in my chest—an emotion stirring that I didn't invite. The human part of me—the part that bleeds, the part that remembers—wanted to react. To open that box. To replay that pain.
But something inside me… didn't allow it.
It wasn't me "trying" to resist.It was me automatically resisting.Like an immune system that kills a disease before it spreads.
[Skill Activated – Efficient Coping]
Processing… Filtering… Stabilizing mental state…
The intrusive replay of the past didn't stand a chance.Instead of drowning in the memory, my mind stood above it, looking down, analyzing it like a detached observer.
"Yes, this happened. Yes, it hurt. And yes, it's over. If it returns, it's just a shadow, not the event itself. Shadows don't kill—they only darken what you allow them to touch."
I thought of the Qur'anic verse:"Indeed, with hardship comes ease."Not after hardship. Not before it. With it.The ease is already there—you just have to see it.
And at that moment, the ease was in my ability to stand outside the pain instead of inside it.
I closed the chat. Deleted the message.Not out of fear—out of respect for my time, my mind, and my heart.
If there's one thing I know, it's this:Memories may knock, but it's you who decides whether they walk in.
For the rest of the day, I moved through my work with the quiet knowledge that something had shifted. It wasn't a power you could see. No flashy aura. No glowing eyes.But I could feel it—like a hidden mechanism had clicked into place inside me.
I had unlocked something I didn't even know I was carrying.And this was just the first.
By the time the rain stopped in the evening, the day had written itself into my story. Not as "the day I received a painful reminder," but as the day I proved I could control the weight of my own mind.
Tomorrow… another test will come.I don't know what form it will take.But I know one thing:
When it does… I'll be ready.