Bismillah 🌙 Before Ramadan approaches, we need to pause and reset our attention. Right now, many of our social media feeds are filled with disturbing headlines, noise, and confusion. It’s heavy on the heart. It pulls focus away from what actually protects us. Not analysis. Not commentary. Not reacting to the world. But remembering how a Muslim woman protects her heart when darkness and distraction increase. We’ll ground in: • turning back to du‘ā instead of doom scrolling • protecting our attention and emotional energy • anchoring in dhikr, salah, and purpose • preparing our hearts... not just our homes.. for Ramadan This is a space to breathe, realign, and return to steadiness. May Allah protect our hearts, guide our attention, and keep us anchored in truth. Ameen 🤍

What did you hear (for yourself) in this video? Why did you need to hear it today?

Most women think letting go is a moment. A cry. A realization. A dua. But Allah does not train leaders through moments. He trains them through repetition. Allah says He does not change the condition of a people until they change what is within themselves. So when the same attachment returns, the same fear, the same control, the same survival reflex, that is not a sign you’re behind. That is Allah saying: “Release it again.” Not because He forgot. But because your nafs hasn’t learned yet. Here is where most women misunderstand the work: Letting go is not emotional. It is behavioral. It looks like: • choosing regulation when panic is familiar • choosing restraint when relief is tempting • choosing consistency when motivation disappears It’s not dramatic. It’s repetitive. And that’s exactly why it works. Because repetition doesn’t feel spiritual. It feels boring. It feels inconvenient. It feels like responsibility. And most people quit right there. But here is the truth: Every time you let go again, your capacity increases. Every time you do not return to survival, your inner container widens. Every time you choose differently, quietly, without applause, you move closer. Closer to peace. Closer to stability. Closer to barakah. Not because life gets easy, but because you become steady. This is the part shame tries to hijack: “Why am I still dealing with this?” “Shouldn’t I be past this by now?” No. Growth is not linear. Leadership is not clean. And Allah does not rush refinement. Allah does not reward intensity. He rewards consistency. If you keep “letting go” emotionally but returning to the same behaviours, you have not let go. You have only paused. True letting go is when your actions submit even when your feelings protest. That is where Allah places barakah. So if today feels like, “I have to let go again”.. Good. That means Allah is still working with you. That means you are still being trusted with refinement. That means you are closer than you were yesterday.

This past year dismantled everything I thought was stable. There were moments I stood at the edge of my own becoming, stripped of certainty, stripped of direction, stripped of every identity that once felt safe. Not because I had failed… but because Allah was finished allowing me to build on anything other than Him. For months, I moved through a silence I had never known. Even my own work… the work of guidance, of leadership, of building women… felt distant. Not wrong. Just unreachable. And then the truth arrived, not in noise, but in Tahajjud. I was not broken. I was exhausted. Exhausted from carrying expectations that were never mine to hold. Exhausted from the lifelong discipline of people-pleasing, shrinking, explaining. Exhausted from believing there was a final, perfected version of myself I had to become before I was worthy of what Allah had already written. For years, I lived as if healing had a finish line. As if one more breakthrough, one more credential, one more strategy would finally make me complete. This year, Allah corrected that illusion through subtraction. He subtracted until only He remained. First, my life’s savings- every halal penny I had saved with intention, sacrifice, and care.. was removed in a betrayal I did not choose, but Allah allowed. In a single moment, the material foundation I trusted was gone. Then came the deeper stripping. The Good Girl. The Silent Supporter. The Woman Who Over-Explains. The version of me who softened her truth to make others comfortable. Old survival patterns dissolved. Old identities collapsed. Not through effort, but through force…. Divine force … until what remained was undeniable. The understanding that landed in my heart was unmistakable: I was clinging to a lifeboat in an ocean where Allah Himself is the Ship. Even my work became a mirror. I love creating. Teaching. Building. But I had become attached to metrics. To validation. To outcomes. When the numbers slowed, Allah exposed something subtle and dangerous: I had begun creating from fear… not purpose.

I need your prayer me and my son we both are sick. 🤒