Cleo @theladyinblacklove - Tumblr Blog

An early look at next week’s cover, “The Queen of Soul,” by Kadir Nelson.

♥️🙏🏾

Day 1: Euphoria

I don’t remember the last time I started my day with anything less than a scowl. But this morning, I woke up like a Disney princess - facial muscles relaxed, body light, eyes fluttering. Yes, the heart palpitations from what is now a 13-day anxiety attack were still there, but I didn’t feel like I was going to throw up, and that is a victory. Alhamdulilah.

The whole day just seemed to fly past (in a good way). The hunger was minimal, the thirst was just noticeable enough to remind me I was fasting, without being strenuous or bothersome. I’m doing this, I said to myself. This must be that elation people feel about Ramadan, and I’m feeling it. I’m one of them, now. One of the pious ones.

In my defense, I didn’t use that exact term. But yes, at some level, that is how I felt. Because it’s what I’ve been striving for. I still yearn to experience the excitement others exude at the approach of Ramadan (and if this sounds familiar, it’s because I’ve probably written about it in the previous years - hence the italicized “still”). I want to feel deserving of Ramadan, as opposed to being confronted with it.

Last year, I wrote about Ramadan being another opportunity I desperately needed to realign myself with the right path, to bolster my commitment and basically get my spiritual self together. I’m disappointed to report that nothing has changed, that once again I find myself standing in front of the mirror of this blog with a sheepish look on my face and my head hanging low. I’d laugh at the Groundhog Dayness of it all, if it wasn’t so disgraceful.

“And seek help through patience and prayer, and indeed, it is difficult except for the humbly submissive [to Allah]”

This afternoon, as I struggled to get through my daily couple of juzus (more on that struggle tomorrow), I came across the above aya, and came to a grinding halt. I was transfixed, reading the last half of the aya over and over again.

“And indeed, it is difficult except for the humbly submissive”

What does that mean? What does that say about me? Are my struggles with consistency in prayer a sign of my lack of submission? This journal alone is proof of the never-ending cycle of spiritual disappointment in which I’m caught. Surely, this repetitiveness holds some type of meaning. How do I crawl out of the abyss?

Am I beyond help and hope?