Trigger Warning: This article is of a sensitive nature and mentions suicide, self-harm and violence. If you need help or access to services, please see here: Muslim Mental Health: The Services and Organisations You Can Contact
I didn’t plan to make it to my 18th birthday, but by the grace and mercy of Allah ﷻ, here I am writing this piece now – aged 28.
Since I can remember, I have longed to feel safe. I grew up in a state of constant mental and emotional pain that I didn’t feel strong enough to handle and decided at a very young age that I wasn’t equipped to be on this earth. From the age of seven, I attempted to take my own life multiple times, but Allah had other plans for me and He kept saving my life.
I grew up in an extremely religious Christian household and my mental health struggles were often dismissed as evidence that I was “possessed.” I constantly questioned why I was going through this, and couldn’t help but compare myself to my peers who seemed to be thriving in ways I couldn’t imagine. I quickly became self-conscious of my struggles, and that grew into resentment. I felt like I was constantly asking God, “Why me?” whilst never receiving any answers.
My coping mechanisms became increasingly more dangerous as time passed, turning from picking my skin to a self-harm addiction that I never thought I’d recover from. Yet Alhamdulillah, I am now five months clean from self-harm and six years have passed since my last suicide attempt. Allah saved me, and I truly believe this wouldn’t have been possible for me had I not found Islam.
Growing up, I was bombarded by negative perceptions of Islam and I automatically believed what my church and the media had to say, because I had never encountered anyone who showed me otherwise. This was compounded by the fact that my father’s life was taken by someone who described themselves as Muslim. In my mind, there was nothing positive about Islam or those who believed in it.
This didn’t change until I turned 15 and happened to transfer to a very diverse school with a large Muslim population. Here, I learnt that Islam was not what the media depicted it to be; in fact, it was a peaceful and beautiful religion, and I found myself beginning to respect it. I made friends with a wonderful classmate who was passionate about her faith, and her beautiful character endeared me towards her beliefs. I watched her always excusing herself to pray, making dua in the rain and talking about the rights of women in Islam – all whilst never judging me for struggling with my mental health – and I found my heart softening to the beauty of her religion. Yet, whilst my opinions of Islam were beginning to change, internally I was still suffering as much as ever. I was hospitalised on and off for several years as doctors did not think I’d survive if I were in the outside world. And they were right: I had no intention of carrying on.
At the age of 20, I saw someone close to me praying salah during Ramadan, and I felt completely at peace. Instinctively, I wanted to pray with them. I asked them if they could teach me, and they gladly did so.
I made wudu and, under their guidance, prayed salah for the first time in my life with tears streaming down my face and my heart full of peace – something I had never felt before. I stayed on the prayer mat crying to Allah for hours. This experience changed the trajectory of my life.
Something had been ignited within me. I became insatiably curious, constantly watching videos on Islam and reading my translation of the Quran until I could no longer deny that Islam was the truth. Yet, still, I was scared. My journey to Islam was slow. I began researching when I was 20 and finally took my Shahada at 24, on the 21st of September 2021. The day that changed the trajectory of my whole life.The greatest blessing that Allah can bestow upon us is his guidance to Islam.
It is important to acknowledge that despite being Muslim, I still struggle with my mental health. I have been in treatment for multiple years, including both therapy and medication, and it has been a slow and gruelling process to get to where I am today. I have long-term mental health conditions that do not have a cure; however, my perception towards them has changed. I spoke to IERA (Islamic Education and Research Academy) when I first reverted, and they taught me one of my favourite hadiths, “No fatigue, nor disease, nor sorrow, nor sadness, nor hurt, nor distress befalls a Muslim, even if it were the prick he receives from a thorn, but that Allah expiates some of his sins for that.” I quickly learnt that struggling with a mental illness did not make me weak or a bad Muslim and certainly did not mean I was possessed. It was part of Allah’s plan for me, and it was also part of His mercy.
The verse which states that, ‘Allah does not burden a soul beyond what it can bear’, (Surah al-Baqarah 2:286), filled me with hope and strength I didn’t know I had. I began saying Alhamdulillah for every struggle I faced, and even now, as I am in treatment for my mental illnesses and still experience bad episodes, I can remain grateful as I know that every struggle I go through is being rewarded by Allah. For He is the most Kind and most Merciful.
Islam teaches us to take care of our amanah, and that includes our physical and mental health. Islam accepts that mental illness is real; Muslims were pioneers in mental health care as the first psychiatric hospitals were developed by Muslims in Baghdad in the eighth century. In fact, medieval Islamic medicine emphasised the need for understanding mental health.
Ahmad ibn Sahl al-Balkhi, a Muslim physician during the ninth and 10th century introduced the idea of mental health and mental hygiene. He wrote the book ‘Sustenance for Body and Soul,’ in which he was the first to link physical maladies to mental health issues. He recognised that the body and mind could be balanced or imbalanced, that some mental illnesses could be treated with psychological treatments and that some required physical medicine. This type of psychiatric treatment was not available in Europe at that time, where mental health struggles were still disregarded as demonic possession.
Islam teaches us the importance of taking care of our mental health and accepts that we need to take spiritual care and clinical care of ourselves. Even the Prophet Muhammad ﷺ experienced a period of depression after the loss of his uncle Abu Talib and his wife Khadijah RA. This period in his life was known as the Year of Sorrow.
During a gap in revelation, the Prophet ﷺ was filled with an anxiety and sadness so intense that it drove him to question whether he had done something to displease Allah. The first verse revealed after this gap was a reminder that Allah had not abandoned him -“Your Lord ˹O Prophet˺ has not abandoned you, nor has He become hateful of you,” (Surah ad-Duhaa 93:3), and giving him hope for the future – “And the next life is certainly far better for you than this one,” (Surah ad-Duhaa 93:4).
I find it helpful to remind myself that, alongside spiritual solace, Allah has also provided medical treatment to help us deal with our physical and mental health. Scholars agree that both spiritual and medical treatment are needed to help us deal with mental health. Ahmad ibn Sahl al-Balkhi also argued that human existence cannot be healthy without the entangling of body and soul and that spiritual medicine cannot be completely separated from physical medicine as both are required to obtain balanced and good health.
Still, I have received mixed opinions from other Muslims about whether mental health is real or not, and I have noticed that there remains a stigma, despite what Islam teaches us. That’s what motivates me to speak up about mental health – so that these misconceptions can be replaced with knowledge, understanding and empathy.
I know that becoming a Muslim saved me. If it wasn’t for Allah’s mercy towards me and His opening my heart to Islam, I would still see my mental health as an insurmountable burden, and most likely wouldn’t be here today.