Spiritual ADHD

Spiritual ADHD

“Umm.. Why don’t you wear hijab anymore?”

Hmmm… Good question! I could give you a lot of reasons why I didn’t stop.I didn’t stop because I am no longer Muslim. I didn’t stop to make someone happy. I didn’t stop because I was scared. I didn’t stop because I don’t love the fashion. Now there’s a confusing double-negative so let me clarify: I love how the hijab looks on myself and other women. But I can’t really tell you why I did stop.

In the three or so years I dedicated myself to the study and practice of Islam, I learned a ton about Islam, but that was not even the tip of the iceberg. I learned I am in love with the study of history and religion. I learned there is more misinformation out there truth. I learned that I am not at all qualified to determine fact from fiction. I am, however, quite sure that much of what we accept as fact is instead the latter. Did Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him, really say this? Did Jesus, peace and blessings be upon him, really do that? Who was I to say? I learned I do not have to belong to a group, blindly accept every teaching of a religion, or label myself as this or that to follow God.

I may not always have the answers. I may say one thing one day and contradict myself the next. That to me is so much more true and authentic than clutching an idea or belief so tightly that it comes to define you or blind you from the other possibilities out there, cutting you off from knowledge that could potentially expand your perceptions. I didn’t want to close myself off from the wealth of information out there on God, our perceptions of Him, and how we have recorded our interactions with Him across time and throughout cultures.

I had done nothing intellectually for three years except study Islam. I learned Arabic. I read the Qur’an multiple times. I followed every rule I learned to the extent that I was able. I watched YouTube, read articles, listened to lectures and podcasts, you name it! After three years of study I concluded that Islam is a magnificent, beautiful, deeply multifaceted religion that, when followed, is designed to purify hearts and heal societies. I concluded that I love Islam and wish I knew better how to share that love and understanding with others. And I concluded I was no longer felt the passion.

Geesh! That sounds harsh! But if there’s one thing I want to be in this diary-blog, its emotionally and intellectually honest. It is with that somewhat blunt honesty that I must admit I wanted to study something new. I had a million reasons that I used to convince first myself and then others why I’m suddenly having such a change of heart. Upon reflection they were all superfluous, convenient excuses. I was simply and inexplicably done. I loved practicing the religion but I also felt I lost my identity in it, my individuality that defined me and set me apart. Oh, to the rest of the western world, I was different all right. I stood out. But I was wearing a mask to try to convince myself and others that I was a perfect person, articulate, knowledgeable, and pious. One day, out of the blue, the mask no longer fit. Being a persona rather than yourself, no matter who you do it for, is exhausting. So in an effort to truly live for God and live for me, I knew I had to re-embrace my me-ness.

I was in the midst of all this self realization regarding what my beliefs are and how Islam fits into my world view, when I stumbled upon Emily Wapnick’s TedxBend talk entitled “Why some of us don’t have one true calling.” It hit me like a metaphoric ton of bricks. Her talk extended well beyond the scope of who I want to be when I grow up and hit the nail on the head in regards to my religious fervor but lack of ability to commit to one specific dogma. Oh, I knew I was the person who doesn’t have one true calling and had embraced that about myself a long time ago, but I hadn’t reflected on how that impacts my pursuit of knowledge and “truth.” In fact, it applies so perfectly! I had become deeply passionate about Islam, dove in head first, immersed myself in it, but then I grew sated.

As I have long ago learned to say “I don’t have a favorite (color, food, ice cream flavor, etc),” I am learning to say “I don’t have all the answers.” That one took me a bit longer to master, but there you have it ladies and gentlemen! I had followed a passion truly, with my heart and soul, and God led me down a beautiful path that brought me many new experiences, introduced me to wonderful people, and enlightened me to who I was. But that wasn’t to be the end all be all of my spiritual exploration. Am I scared that God is angry at me for seeking knowledge? No. Am I worried I will ultimately chose the wrong path and accidentally end up among the losers burning for eternity in a pit of fire? Not in the least. Not to sound cocky, but I think God gets it. He designed me to question, to wonder, to experiment and explore. He gave me a whopping case of ADHD (something I define as a “curious, creative, and energetic mind”). I feel He is continuing to guide me as I relinquish my need to be “part of a group” in order to feel justified in my beliefs. And let me tell you, my friends, it is frightening, a little bittersweet, and yet deeply liberating.

So where does that leave this blog? Another excellent question, Laura, thanks for asking! Deen is defined in many ways: the afterlife, the reckoning, or sometimes creed or religion. It is for the love of my deen that I do everything in my life from my spirituality to my health and fitness to how I raise my children. It excites me to think I can start opening up this blog to go beyond just the scope of how I came to Islam and what I have learned. Where this platform allowed me a beautiful opportunity to explore my experiences and share them, coming to more deeply understand them myself, so too I believe it will continue to serve as an opportunity for me to share a broader range of my experience. While learning about Islam I was (and still am) also a mother, a wife, an employee (for a bit), a sister, a daughter... I was also an athlete, a dancer, an artist, a writer, a SPARTAN. Most importantly, I am a big mistake maker, a status quo questioner and a hardcore life experiencer.

Whether I discuss a baking experience I had, a workout I discovered, or a parenting faux pas, I hope my adventures will bring you, if nothing else, a smile. I may or may not be a Muslim. I may or may not be a follower of Jesus, peace and blessings be upon him. I may even have a little Budhist in me. I may devote the next three years to mastering yoga or oil painting or just trying to survive homeschooling 7-year-old twins and a brilliant teenager. Who knows where else my passions will take me. My prayer is that whatever I do, I will do it with sincerity and authenticity and that whatever I learn or believe that I do so with an open mind and an open heart.   

Honeymoon. Over.

Honeymoon! ... Over.

Wow!! It has literally been months since I have posted. Sure, I’ve written blog posts, half written others, scribbled down ideas for yet more, and have myriad topics running around loose in my noggin. But nothing has made it past that little 'publish' button on the top right of my screen. I don’t have a particularly good reason or even a modicum of an excuse because to be truthful, I have had plenty of opportunity to post. Why, then, have the humble pages of my quaint little corner of the blogging world gone unattended and, to be frank, neglected? To sum it up: Life. Got. Lifey.

Ok, well, there ya have it in a nut shell! Thanks for stopping by readers!!
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Ahh, but I would never leave it at that, so if you are curious what this absentee blogger has been up to, read on, my friends, read on!

              Two significant things happened this year, neither of which I find myself able to adequately and succinctly write about in the limited space of a blog post. I enter as evidence all the half-written, over emotional, very raw posts that have been sitting on my desktop. From Ramadan 2016 to Ramadan 2017 I went through an awkward, painful, liberating, beautiful transition period as two 'honeymoon' periods came to an abrupt, unexpected halt.

              The first, and the only one I am going to write about today, was my over-zealous, frantic love-affair with Islam. It took me by storm from books to youTube videos to online courses trying to soak in all I missed in the 32 years of my pre-Islam life. I rushed into wearing hijab, tossing my scarf against social pressures. I got into debates, discussions, interviews, and so on. I suddenly felt I had a point to prove: to show people the beauty of Islam and to help, moment by moment, to break down the barriers of fear between Muslims and those of other faith backgrounds. I tried to be as perfect as I could, adhering to all the teachings as soon as I understood them, to the fullest extent of my ability and understanding. It was tough and exhilarating! All the while I was completely missing the point. Things started happening, and when I was approached for an interview that turned out to be a cover story about my experience coming to Islam the blurry realities of my situation snapped into focus.

              Reality one: The energy and momentum required to pick up something new and try to be absolutely perfect at it cannot be maintained. It is not realistic. The hormones driving it, much like the hormones in a new relationship that scream you have to see them every moment of every day- well, they wane. They don’t last forever. So I realized I had been embodying Islam, I had been studying Islam, I had been discussing Islam, but I had not been a true Muslim. The reason for this is my stark and frightening reality number two.

              Although I could have argued otherwise, and at times I even had myself convinced, I had been making Islam all about me. Not surprising, right? I mean, after all, this blog is all about me, isn’t it? I had found this ‘calling,’ a pedestal from which I was suddenly being heard by people all around me regardless of their faith. Some challenged me with questions, others came to me with questions, and while I would try to preface it with ‘I’m not a scholar, I’m not qualified,’ I would do my durndest to answer their questions. When the article came out, it was picked up by several publications and I got to know how it feels to have your metaphoric 15 Minutes Of Fame. It was overwhelming and intimidating and completely intoxicating. It was also frightening as I suddenly realized I was making myself out to be the poster-child of Islam yet I knew almost nothing about the religion except your typical Islam 101. Not only was my crusade to educate suddenly feeling like it was all about me and my high horse, it meant I had to be 100% perfect all the time or I would be a fraud, a hypocrite, a liar. What the what??

              So what did I do about it? In the overwhelming rush of emotions, I found excuses. Excuses to stop wearing hijab, excuses to miss prayers, excuses to go out dancing with my husband and a group of friends. While we all (the whole group because my social circle is wicked legit) felt we were out of our element and none of us stayed late, it was a significant experience for me. You see, I was challenging not only the teachings of my own faith, but the convictions of my own heart. While the experience confirmed that the club experience is just not for me, it also broke down a barrier that made it easier and easier to make those smaller, more subtle exceptions.

              What did I learn? When I first came to Islam I was expecting to refine my relationship with God. I didn't think or see beyond that. Sure, I expected some people to be upset when they found out, but I hadn’t even meant to be particularly public about it in the beginning. Circumstances quickly changed my intentions as the grapevine spread the news like wildfire. As I found myself more publicly practicing Islam, I also found a kind of strength- a strength to stand up for what is right against fear, ignorance, and in a few cases, outright hate. But that strength became my weakness as I soaked in all the attention this new pedestal offered me. I became focused on what Islam was doing for me and lost sight of what I was doing for Allah- My God, The God. For those of you who don’t know, Islam is all about intention, and somewhere along the line, my intentions had become corrupted.

              Where am I now? Well, I still wear hijab on and off. I still skip prayers as I am trying to work it back into my daily life. I live my life in ultra-mega HD and I will always, by my energetic and unapologetic nature, draw attention to myself. I need to remember that. I need to check in with my intentions, to reflect on my actions. Am I wearing hijab to be modest or am I wearing it out of a fear that someone will call me a hypocrite if I don’t? Am I choosing not to wear hijab simply as a statement of my own free will over theirs to choose how “religious” I am at any given moment?  Am I praying only when I feel like it? Or can I maintain the conviction to do something I don’t always feel like doing for the sake of the most important relationship I have in this world or any other?

So, like a marriage, the honeymoon period is over. The rush of intense, passionate emotions has died down. But like a good marriage, it is being replaced day-by-day with something else- something better. The rush of emotions gets us involved, gets us interested, gets us obsessed…but while it is coursing through us something more beautiful is happening in the background. Connections are being made, attachments that will ultimately determine the strength of the relationship, or whether it lasts at all. I feel it now, that kernel of conviction- telling me to just take it one day at a time, as a dear friend advised me back at my very introduction to Islam. Just read. Just pray. Just be you. Trust in God and let each day come as it is. I am learning that Islam is not about perfection, it is about relationship with God. Pure and simple. I’ll stumble, I’ll fail, I’ll be a total and complete hypocrite. In other words, I’ll continue being human. I just have to keep reminding myself of that. 😉

As-salaamu alaykum wa rahmatullahi wa barakatu! Peace be upon you and the mercy of God and His blessings!