Ramadan is coming to an end.
And I can’t seem to decide…
whether I should grieve it or quietly exhale.
My body feels it first.
Broken sleep.
Late nights that stretched into suhoor.
Alarms that always came before I was ready.
This isn’t the kind of exhaustion people romanticize.
It’s just… exhaustion. Plain. Physical.
And if I’m honest a part of me is glad it’s ending.
Not relief. Not guilt.
Just… gladness.
And the moment I noticed that something inside me shifted.
Is that wrong?
Holding Two Truths at Once
Beneath this exhaustion… there’s something else.
Something soft.
Something quiet.
I’m not sure if Ramadan changed me or not.
I haven’t figured that out yet.
But I do know this:
something reached me.
Even though I wasn’t perfect.
Even though my worship was inconsistent.
Still… something made its way to my heart.
And now I find myself holding two things at once:
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A body that needs rest
-
A heart that knows it received something
A Story I Can’t Stop Thinking About
Lately, I keep returning to the story of Hanzalah ibn Rabi’ah (RA).
He wasn’t an ordinary man.
He was among those who wrote revelation.
Imagine that hands that held the words of the Qur’an.
And yet, one day…
he rushed out and said:
“Hanzalah has become a hypocrite.”
He didn’t say “I.”
He used his own name.
As if he was watching himself from a distance.
The Courage to Be Honest
When he went to Abu Bakr al-Siddiq (RA),
he wasn’t immediately reassured.
Instead, he heard something unexpected:
“By Allah… I feel the same way.”
Think about that.
Two of the greatest people no masks, no performance
just truth.
The Answer That Makes Sense of It All
When they went to the Prophet ﷺ,
his response was simple… yet profound:
“There is a time for this… and a time for that.”
(Reported in Sahih Muslim)
He said it three times.
What Ramadan Didn’t Clearly Teach Us
We often assume that:
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Faith should always feel high
-
The heart should always feel connected
-
Every prayer should feel the same
But the truth is
we weren’t designed that way.
Ramadan is the peak. Life is the valley. And faith?
Faith is learning how to walk between both.
Arzen’s Night
It’s night.
A dim light fills the room.
The Qur’an rests on the side table.
Arzen sits on the sofa… but tonight, he isn’t reading.
He’s just… looking at it.
Remembering.
-
the nights his heart felt heavy
-
the سجود that were real
-
the duas that felt like they were rising straight to the sky
And then he looks at himself now.
A little lighter.
A little emptier.
And a question quietly forms inside him:
“Was all of that only for Ramadan?”
A Truth That’s Hard to Accept
Let’s be honest.
After Ramadan:
-
you will miss some prayers
-
your focus will slip
-
you will fall again
And the version of you from the 27th night?
You won’t always recognize them.
And that… is normal.
The Real Test
The test was never how you were during Ramadan.
The real test is this:
👉 What do you do when the feeling is gone?
Do you still pray?
Or do you slowly drift away?
Final Thoughts
Maybe this Ramadan wasn’t perfect.
Maybe you missed more than you want to admit.
But if:
-
even one prostration was sincere
-
even one dua came from your heart
Then know this
something has already been written for you.
There is a time for closeness.
And there is a time for distance.
Both come from Allah.
And if you keep returning
both will lead you back to Him.
A Small Dua
O Allah…
whatever this Ramadan awakened within me,
do not let it fade away.
Even if I grow weak…
grant me the ability to return.
Ameen. ✨
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