Every year, when Ramadan is about to come along, my mind gets a visit from a motivational speaker. This is it, Izza. This is the month where you reform yourself. This it the time to CHANGE. This is the month where you kick into yourself GOOD HABITS. This is the moment when you can MAINTAIN THOSE HABITS. IT'S RAMADAN, GIRL. THIS IS IT...
The speaker goes on as she pumps her fist into the air and beckons me to nod along (which I do).
The thing about most motivational speakers, though, is that their effect is often short-lived. They are like pretty petite candles where they emit appealing scents but their flame doesn't stay long and they emit no light when the wax has melted. Just like the short candle, my insistence on being better during Ramadan doesn't often last long. It doesn't sustain throughout the 30 days. It dies, and my motivation from the speaker dies along with it.
And so, this year, when Ramadan was approaching, as much as I hated to admit it, I felt extremely anxious. I felt nervous. I felt the waves of familiar thoughts flooding my mind telling me that this is it when so many years have proven that it was not. I felt the same set of high expectations plant itself in my head. But this time, it was accompanied by whispers that weren't exactly the most encouraging. In strange ways, I felt defeated. I think about the previous years, and I am dejected by my own consistent failure.
Other people seem like they want God. They want and crave Ramadan. And masyaAllah, how I wish I could be like that, too. I only want to want God. I only crave for the craving of Ramadan. There is, sadly, an extremely huge difference.
When people share about their own progress in Ramadan, like how they managed to finish reading the Quran, or abstain from what their undesirable habits like smoking or swearing, or wake up every night to perform tahajjud prayers, I get painful pangs of jealousy. I ask myself and the supposed motivational speaker in me HOW do these people manage to do that? Why can't I be like that? What's wrong with me? UGH.
It's ugly, but it's there. Last year, I wanted to do so much. I listed out the things I wished to achieve by the end of Ramadan. Finish the Quran, revise and memories verses from it, attend more religious classes, volunteer at the mosque, whatever. But I did only so few, if at all. I ended up binge-watching shows that were totally unnecessary. I ended up going out too often and breaking my fast at the most random places, sometimes even with the most random people. I ended up socialising more and being intimate with people, when I told myself that I was going to be more intimate with God.
To some people this may be okay, but to me, personally, it was the bare minimum. Heck, it was even below the bare minimum. I treated Ramadan like every other month when it was supposed to be exceptional, when it was supposed to be special. Ramadan was supposed to mean more to me but I didn't give the blessed month what it deserved.
And it sucks. It sucks to realise how you fail in being better. It sucks to know that you are your own obstacle. It sucks so, so bad. Istiqaamah is just so damn hard. It sucks that I am not as resilient as I used to deem myself to be.
I have read so many miraculous stories about reformation in Ramadan. I read about Muslims who go beyond the extra mile. How those who claim themselves to be avid sinners find solace in reading the Quran every day in the month. How they are able to withdraw themselves from evil and manage to change themselves. How they are able to simply be better.
Then, the bad thoughts gather. The bad thoughts tell me to keep comparing myself to others, to paint myself horribly, and to romanticise others while I remain blind to their own personal struggles and faults. The supposed motivational speaker moves away, and leaves the destructive and condescending skeptic. The skeptic tells me how every other Muslim is better, every other Muslim is able to improve, every other Muslim except for my own self. It's ugly, but it's there. And it leaves me in a state of agonising loneliness.
How sucky it is to have such ugly anxieties during a beautiful month. I am in a safe country, I am surrounded by the warmth of loving family members and friends, I am well-fed and I live in comfort. Those don't even scratch the surface of the total blessings I have in my life. But internally, there is a nasty war within me, there are my debilitating thoughts. They crush my will and they don't speak with rationale. Rationale would tell me that every one too have their own struggles, and she would tell me that I should only focus on myself, and work towards sustaining the small flame of desiring to be better. Sometimes I don't have reassuring Rationale. Instead, I have are internal wars, and a destructive mentality.
But I suppose, like every other set of anxieties, though they can be so annoyingly persistent, they're not entirely impossible to combat. Somewhere in me, I truly believe that. It's a thin thread, but I'm always willing to hang on that.
Tonight marks the entrance of another Ramadan. Alhamdulillah. Tonight marks God's way of telling me that I have another chance. A chance to prove myself to myself, to roll my eyes at the skeptic, and to be the better person I aspire to be.
So, to anyone reading this, (including you, Future Izza) if you're struggling to get better this Ramadan, if you think you're the only one who's incapable of improving yourself when everyone else seems to be doing amazing things, you're not alone. There are others who are having a horribly hard time. I know I am. I suck at this. My candle burns out way too often. I suck at being better. But I try. I can get more candles. I may fail, but I try.
And aside from the other Muslims who are struggling together with you, remember that there is always – always – God. He's by your side. Don't forget that, yeah?
