Alhamdulillah for the Quran

Lately, I feel like I’m breaking in ways I can’t explain.

I’m carrying so much — in silence. The weight of it all presses down so hard some days that I can’t breathe. And the hardest part is feeling like no one really sees it. No one sees how much I’m holding together — the house, the responsibilities, the faith, the exhaustion. No one sees what it takes just to keep showing up.

And the truth is, I feel like I’m slipping. I’m struggling with my deen. Struggling with my iman. Struggling with my trust in Allah and in myself. I’m struggling to wear my hijab. Struggling to pray. Struggling to do the most basic things that used to feel like second nature.

Except for the Qur’an.

The Qur’an is the only thing I can hold onto right now. It’s the only thing that reaches me where I am. I find myself climbing into bed at night, utterly drained, but my hands reach instinctively for it. It’s become my anchor. The only thing that helps me sleep.

When the nightmares come — and they do, again and again — when anxiety floods my chest and threatens to drown me, it’s the Qur’an that quiets the storm. Its words calm something deep inside me. And more often than not, I fall asleep with tears in my eyes. Not because I’m broken… but because I feel this overwhelming peace, this mercy that I can’t put into words.

It’s like every ayah is speaking only to me. Like Allah is responding to the parts of me I’ve never spoken aloud.

And still, part of me keeps whispering, “You’re behind. You should be doing more. You’re not enough.”

But somewhere deep in my soul, I know those thoughts aren’t from Him.

Allah doesn’t measure me by how perfectly I perform.

He sees what no one else sees — the private battles, the quiet tears, the way I keep trying.

He saw the moments I wanted to ask for help, but didn’t, because I didn’t want to be a burden.

He saw me shrink myself, question myself, overextend just to feel worthy.

He saw the effort it took just to stay standing.

And maybe I’ve been asking for scraps — acceptance, peace, a sense of belonging — from places that were never meant to feed me.

But Allah… Allah is preparing something better. A place where I won’t have to fight to be seen.

Where I won’t have to earn love by exhausting myself.

I’m not falling behind.

I’m falling into the space He’s clearing just for me.

A place of stillness. Of truth. Of divine overflow.

This isn’t about becoming something new.

It’s about remembering who He already created me to be.

I don’t have to hustle to be worthy.

I don’t have to force anything to be loved.

I don’t have to figure it all out. He already has.

And maybe… just maybe…

It’s time I stop abandoning myself.

It’s time I choose me — the way He’s already chosen me.

Alhamdulillah for the Qur’an. For the peace it brings. For the way it finds me when I’m most lost.

Alhamdulillah for a Lord who sees me, hears me, holds me — even when I feel unseen.