Fasting and mental health/Abusive toxic mother

“Assalamualaikum

21F

I’m not fasting during Ramadan this year. I never thought I’d reach a point where my mental health would stop me from observing it. I struggle with depression and CPTSD, and I’ve been struggling since I was 12. I managed to fast for the first five days, but on the sixth, I had a relapse into a deep depressive episode. It’s not lifting, and I feel ashamed and depressed about it. Fasting triggers my binge eating disorder, and the scarcity I feel during fasting reminds me of times, even until last year when my family and I faced food insecurity. So after iftar I would binge till I throw up or get sick. When I fast, I feel numb and dissociative, spending most of my time in bed. Even trying to engage in acts of worship feels overwhelming. After breaking my fast, I dread the next day of fasting, and the cycle repeats. I never thought my mental health would affect my worship like this. I feel disgusted and ashamed, especially when my family judges me. Despite battling the same issues last Ramadan, I managed to do more. Now, I’ve even dropped out of university because I can’t cope. I know I need therapy and medication, but accessing help in Norway is incredibly difficult. Living in Norway, a wealthy country, you’d think getting help would be easier. But the reality is, the healthcare system is failing, especially for mental health. The standards to become a doctor or mental health specialist are sky-high, with only around 50 getting accepted each year. And those who do make it are overworked and burnt out. To get the help I need, I’d practically have to attempt suicide and not succeed, and even then, it’s not guaranteed.

I’ve been battling this system since 2019, facing rejection after rejection. It’s exhausting. I’m not proud of my resilience; it’s only there because I have no other choice.

Sometimes, I feel like I’m just drifting through life, with everything beyond my control. I know that changing our condition starts from within, and I strive every moment, whether it’s through small acts of worship, reading the Quran, or trying to break out of this cycle of depression. But there’s only so much one person can do alone. I desperately need therapy and antidepressants to cope because things have gotten that bad for me.

Given all this, it’s no wonder I feel drained and defeated. Sometimes, it feels like Allah doesn’t want me to come closer to Him. But upon reflection, I’ve come to realize that it’s not my faith that’s wavering, but rather my depression that’s weighing me down and affecting my connection with Allah. Despite fighting since 2019, I feel like I’m reaching my limits. I pray earnestly, yet it often feels insufficient. Sometimes, I’m overwhelmed with the sense that maybe Allah doesn’t want me. Even now, I persist in performing small acts of worship, hoping they’ll provide some ease. But these days, my depression seems more overwhelming than ever.”

“Assalamu alaikum

This will be a very long post, and I hope it’s received with compassion and empathy. Each day, I face harsh judgment, leaving me in need of a safe space to express what I’m going through. Please bear with me as I share my thoughts and experiences.

I’m a 21-year-old woman living with my family, unfortunately, they’re abusive. My parents are divorced, so it’s just my mom, my younger sister, and me. Due to the housing crisis, we had to move into a smaller house – one bedroom and a living room, compared to our previous three-bedroom home where I had my own room. I was scared about the move because I knew things would likely get worse in such a confined space, given how toxic my family is. And unfortunately, I was right. Now, I’ve lost my privacy and my sanctuary – my own room. Even though having my own room didn’t stop the toxicity before, it at least gave me a space away from my family. But now, that option doesn’t exist anymore.

Living here is incredibly tough. It’s taking a toll on my mental health. Not only do I have to deal with the challenges from my family in every aspect, but I also have neighbors who seem to be constantly watching and even broke into our house once – and to top it off, those neighbors are our landlord and his family.

As I mentioned, we’re all confined to one room, and at night, it’s especially difficult. My mom snores loudly, making it hard for me to sleep. I find comfort in sleeping with my plushies as they help ground me and provide support during this difficult time. However, sometimes they fall off the bed, which annoys my mom, and she tries to control me by insisting I get rid of them.

Today, I had a major argument with my mom. It seems like with a toxic person, anything can escalate into a blowout. She was cleaning, and I was reading. She asked me to move things around – the table, the sofa, and my plushies. I did everything she asked without hesitation. But when she finished cleaning, she suddenly started yelling at me to remove my plushies from the sofa. I got frustrated and yelled back, asking why she was causing unnecessary problems when she herself had asked me to move them there. She accused me of leaving my things everywhere, including my books on the coffee table. I explained that I needed those books because I am working on an assignment but she continued to argue. I couldn’t understand why it was an issue if I occupied some space in the house since we all live there together.

Then she hit me with a comment that really got to me. She called me disrespectful and reminded me that I’m not even paying rent and basically a guest in here. This really hurt me because in our previous house, I used to contribute to the rent, but now she’s the one receiving welfare assistance from the state to cover the rent. I do my part by giving her some of my student grant as an allowance for groceries and household expenses.

Then she started reciting prayers against me and cursing me, calling me a cursed child and seeking refuge from Allah from someone like me. In response, I sought refuge from Allah from a parent like her. She continued, saying I’ll never succeed in life, that Allah will curse me, and I’ll fail my exams next month. I stood my ground, telling her I’ve achieved what I wanted in life: a healthy relationship with my best friend, attending my dream university through hard work and trust in Allah. I reminded her of her own struggles, still waiting for her documents, essentially living as an undocumented citizen, vulnerable to deportation at any moment. I challenged her, asking who’s truly stagnant in life.

She continued with the “what goes around comes around” rhetoric, insisting that my future kids would hate and disrespect me the same way I am disrespecting her according to her logic. I reminded her of the love between me, my nieces, and nephew. She brushed it off, claiming kids only love you if you buy them things, implying I’m not special. But I disagreed, emphasizing the difference in our approaches and reminding her that I am in fact more special. While she focuses on material gifts, I invest time and effort into nurturing them emotionally. I play with them, encourage their creativity, and support them through their ups and downs without ever speaking ill of them. I reminded her that they seek me out for comfort and affection because they feel safe with me, unlike her, whose anger scares them away. And they have told their mother many times how much they hate visiting their grandmother.

Despite her warnings of Allah punishing me with difficult children, I remained steadfast in my confidence, trusting in myself and in Allah. I assured her that I will continue to create an environment filled with love and understanding

This is where my inner conflict arises: I was raised with a distorted understanding of Islam, based on fear. As a result, I grew to despise my religion. It wasn’t until about two years ago that I made the decision to unlearn what I knew about Allah and Islam and instead, discover the true beauty and essence of our religion.

During the argument with my mom, three aspects of myself were at odds: my inner child, my past self, and my current self. My inner child felt completely overwhelmed and distraught. It was incredibly painful for her to hear the mother who should nurture love speaking to her in such a hurtful manner, making her feel like she’s an unwelcome presence in her own home, as if her existence is merely tolerated and not celebrated. It made her feel like a burden. It’s natural for children to seek connection with their parents, and when that connection is disrupted, it’s rarely the child’s fault, but almost always because of the parent, as is the case with me.

The pain I’ve carried for years, and continue to carry, knowing that I’m disliked by my family, is immense. Every time my mom argues with me or creates problems, it serves as a painful reminder of the hatred she harbors towards me, simply because I am the innocent child she chose to bring into this world.

The other side of me, my past self, has been the dominant force in my life until about a year ago. My past self controlled me to the point where if I heard that Allah would punish me for something, I would be consumed by agony and feel utterly flawed, believing that Allah would never show me mercy and would only bestow His wrath upon me. Hearing what my mother said today hurt me deeply; it struck a chord with my past self. I found myself in constant conflict, constantly having to reassure myself that these thoughts were false. I had to remind myself that Allah is merciful and judges us based on our intentions. Allah knows that I don’t intentionally seek out fights or disrespect my mother.

My mother behaves like a tyrant, always finding ways to make my life miserable, disrespecting me, insulting me, talking down to me, or spreading rumors about me to my siblings or aunts. Allah, the All-Knowing and Merciful, would never condone me being treated this way. I am special simply because I am His creation, and my parents have a responsibility to treat me with respect and kindness. I understand that respect should go both ways, but expecting someone to continually endure abuse and respond with kindness is unrealistic. When faced with repeated abuse on a daily basis, it’s natural to reach a breaking point, to fight back, to respond. We are only human, and there’s only so much we can tolerate.

My new current self is the version of me that’s firmly rooted in the present. She’s the one standing up for both my past self and my inner child. She’s the one who understands that whatever is said to her isn’t true, but rather a reflection of other people’s insecurities and perceptions, especially in my mother’s case, with her narcissism.

Although my newer self is now my current self, it’s important to remember that she’s only been in charge for a year, whereas my past self has been dominant for 20 years. Naturally, the past self still holds a strong influence, and now I feel conflicted. I find myself more inclined to believe in my past self’s perspective, fearing that my religion is indeed harsh and that God is unforgiving, especially when I react to my mother’s insults.

Another part of me feels apathetic towards my mother. I don’t hold the same love for her that I used to. As a human I empathize with her because she’s had a tough life, being abused by my dad during their marriage and being cheated on, as a daughter, I can’t help but feel hatred towards her. I want nothing to do with her. I don’t feel any guilt or remorse for what I said to her because deep down, I know it’s not in my nature to fight with my loved ones in such a hurtful manner, to insult or disrespect them, or to ridicule their character as she did mine.

The proof of this lies in my ability to foster healthy, long-term friendships for the past eight years. These friendships are based on love, healthy communication, taking accountability using “I” language when expressing concerns, creating safe spaces for each other, always loving and praising one another, and supporting each other through tough times. Even when my friends annoy me, I never once consider insulting them. Instead, I focus on communicating with them, resolving any issues, and moving forward without holding onto resentment.

The fact that I’ve managed to establish such healthy relationships, despite having parents who are both narcissistic and have toxic relationships, is a true testament to my character and the beauty of my soul.

In fact, I feel restless in my toxic environment because as a spiritual person, I know I’ll be compelled to act in ways that go against the core values of my soul. These values include honesty, open communication, love, forgiveness, and compassion. Every time I have a fight with my mom, it exacerbates this restlessness because my soul is forced out of its natural state. I find myself becoming defensive and responding with remarks that don’t align with who I truly am. It’s a constant struggle to maintain my spiritual integrity in such an environment.

I feel it would be unfair to blame myself or expect myself to remain calm and collected in a situation where I’m surrounded by insults and reminders of how much I’m disliked by my own family, from the moment I wake up every day. I already face harsh judgments from my community and family on a daily basis, so the least I can do is show myself the compassion I deserve, because ultimately, I am my own only hope. Therefore, I no longer allow myself to fall into a cycle of self-shame when it comes to how I respond during fights or when my mother is abusive towards me. I recognize that our environment has a significant impact on us, more than we often realize. It’s like expecting a garden to flourish in an environment without its required needs or in one filled with toxic air and expecting it not to wither because it’s absorbing that toxicity.

My current conflict stems from my past self being triggered and seeking validation that Allah won’t punish her. This past version of myself, shaped by fear and a distorted understanding of religion, still carries the weight of past beliefs and anxieties. She yearns for reassurance that Allah is merciful and forgiving, and that she won’t face punishment for her actions or thoughts.”

Response from a “Fatima counselor”:

Response from your friends at Stones to Bridges: