It’s the 30th of June again. For the 32nd time. Unsure how many more June 30ths I have remaining.
If this were my last one, allow me to tell you what I wish anyone had told me about worth and love—
It started in 2022, when my therapist told me to start talking positively about my younger self as if I were talking about someone else, because she noticed how easy it was for me to speak kindly about others, but how harsh I was when talking about myself.
It has been quite a ride…
When you realised you had to outsource your self-worth and self-esteem, but then also realised you used the things that you’d done to seek external validation of your worth — all the accomplishments, the reputation — the good and the bad — all because you believed in yourself first, you gave yourself a chance first, you saw your worth, you always knew your worth — you just needed to hear it, see it mirrored back to you through the treatment you received — through your utility and productivity.
And you spiralled again.
But then you remembered:
“Indeed, We created humans in the best form.” (95:4)
“When your Lord said to the angels, ‘I am going to create a human being from clay. So when I have fashioned him and had a spirit of My own ˹creation˺ breathed into him, fall down in prostration to him.’ So the angels prostrated all together.” (38:71–73)
In Islam, you are loved and valued simply by existing, because your life is seen as a blessing from Allah.
The Qur’an repeatedly reminds us that life is a precious gift, and our worth does not come from what we do, but from the inherent dignity that Allah has bestowed upon each human being — through the ruh that Allah breathes into your being. Even the angels were told to honour that.
So, why have we grown to believe we must work for even basic kindness and love?
But you didn’t know that.
You knew — but you hadn’t internalised it. Because religion was introduced to you through ritualistic performance, historical narratives of the Prophets, how to read the holy book correctly — and how violently unfair it treated your mother.
Then you realised: you actually never knew unconditional love.
How could you? When you had to perform as a dutiful child before you were granted time to be a child. When you were told that heaven lies under your mother’s feet — and that if you talked back, you would not be granted heaven. But nothing was ever said about being yelled at by said mother for acting like a child.
You only knew the love you gave yourself — to never give up and just keep going. Keep performing the kindness and love you deserved but were denied. Keep embodying the faith you’ve always held in the way you wish it were introduced to you.
Then you realised: the love you gave yourself was also a form of faith in God — the God you believe in. And you finally accepted that everything that happened to you — all the good and the bad — was a choice made by everyone in your life, including you. And not everyone actually had your well-being as their best interest when they made that choice.
Even when the choice was wrapped in a promise of forever through rose-coloured glasses. If your pain was minimised and put aside for whatever reason, would you still want to see yourself in that “forever”?
And then you realised: it’s pointless to make up excuses for their bad decisions that affected your well-being negatively, regardless of their intentions. Then you accepted that harm isn’t about intention — but about impact.
And finally, you realised: you’ve just built a foundation for your self-worth off your clarity — on how tightly woven your faith is with your healing journey — by understanding the extent of the abuse you experienced, which encompasses your whole being down to the soul level.
All this is to say…
“Allah does not burden any soul with more than it can bear.” (2:286)
“So, surely with hardship comes ease. Surely with ˹that˺ hardship comes ˹more˺ ease.” (94:5–6)
I have the kind of faith that defies logic.
No matter how cynical I make myself appear sometimes.
No matter how deranged I sound when anger consumes me.
No matter how depressed I am when grief swallows me whole.
I know I will pull through. I did, multiple times.
And I’ll probably continue doing so many times over… until my time is up.
It almost feels like staying alive and growing old sounds worthwhile.
⸺
This reflection is brought to you by my intense crying session on the 1st of Muharram last Friday (27 June 2025), while listening to Hozier’s Fare Well on repeat. Didn’t realise it was the Islamic New Year.
“Joy, disaster, come unbound here.
I’ll deny me none, while I’m allowed
with all things above the ground.”
So…
What birthday lesson would you leave behind if this were your last?
When did someone’s ‘good intentions’ still hurt you? How did you address it?
Thank you for reading. Take what resonates, leave what doesn’t. But know that you are already enough.
