Things You Don’t Know About Me

السلام عليكم friend,

There are things about me that most people see today…

But there’s a whole story they don’t see.

And I felt ready to share a part of it.

Not for sympathy, but for context.
For the women who wonder, “Does she really understand what I’m going through?”

I do. Because I’ve lived it.

My Childhood

I grew up in a chaotic home.

Fights were part of the daily routine.
Money was always tight.
Peace felt temporary, never stable.

All I saw as a child was anger, hate, frustration.

That little girl learnt very early that this was “normal.”

Before my nervous system ever learnt safety…
it learnt to predict danger.

To read rooms.
To scan people’s moods.
To stay alert.

Between ages 8–10, my body was already dysregulated
I just didn’t have language for it then.

At school, I was physically present… but mentally elsewhere all the time.

My brain was always problem-solving.
Always anticipating the next crisis.

I didn’t have friends until Year 8. Always stressed, always lonely.
I was never a “normal” child, I was surviving internally.

My Teens

As a teenager, the pressure shifted.

Now it was about performance.

Become an engineer.
Achieve.
Make the family proud.

Back then, it felt like a badge of honour
so I did it.

Trauma can cloud focus…
but Allah gave me a mind that still pushed through the pressure, Alhamdulillah.

Early Adulthood

Before I even graduated as an engineer
in my final semester, my mother passed away.

She was my only emotional safety.

The only place where love didn’t feel transactional.

And suddenly she was gone.

I had no shoulder to cry on.
No time to grieve, because I had a younger brother to take care of.

Adult responsibilities came immediately
financial stress, family pressure, survival mode.

I had a job before graduation, campus placement you know, Alhamdulillah
but life still felt heavy.

The money was never enough for the responsibilities I had.

I worked far from my hometown. Bills were too many.

My rent, my food, my expenses, and I had to send money to my brother who was studying in another town.

There was always stress humming in the background.

Mid-Twenties

I got married.
Had my first daughter.

Life felt like it was moving… steady, predictable.

And that’s when Allah guided me to Islam truly guided me.
Alhamdulillah.

Until then, I was living the life of a liberal Muslim.
Chasing the dunya.
Changing jobs… ufff, constantly searching but never fulfilled.

One day I picked up the Qur’an…
And I couldn’t recognise it.

It had been so long since I last read it.

Slowly, I began again.

I started praying five times a day.
Focused on re-learning the Qur’an.
Re-building my connection.

Then Covid happened.

My husband’s lung damaged.
Alhamdulillah he survived.

The next year, my son was born at 31 weeks.
I won’t go into the details… but it was one of the hardest periods of my life.

Too many challenges.
But Alhamdulillah he survived.

Soon after, we moved countries.

I thought life was finally settling.
I thought the storm had passed.

But suppressed wounds don’t disappear.
They wait.

And eventually… my body could no longer hold them.

My nervous system collapsed.

Severe anxiety.
Panic attacks.
Chronic stress.
Chronic pain.

I was put on antidepressants… later SSRIs.

And that became a turning point.

Because deep inside, I knew:

I didn’t want medication to be my forever story.

And that’s when I also realised something heavier…

My tawakkul was weak.

I was practicing Islam but still chasing the dunya.
I was praying, reciting Qur’an daily but it felt like a checklist.

Not connection.
Not surrender.

And I knew I needed to change.

I was afraid… deeply afraid… of losing my deen.
Losing Islam after finally finding it.

The only dua I kept making was:

“Ya Allah, don’t take guidance away from me.”

I became committed to change.

And something beautiful happened…

Every time I raised my hands in dua, Allah guided me to a source, a means.

Sometimes it came as knowledge.
Sometimes as support.
Sometimes as people.

Some of the most genuine friendships I made were during this time.

People who helped me out of nowhere.

And the craziest part?

I still haven’t met them till today.

They came through mutual connections… guided me to resources… checked in on me… held space for me from a distance.

But they’re still in touch.
They still check on me.

Alhamdulillah.

The Healing Journey

With the help of those beautiful friends and most importantly my husband, I began.

They gently guided me toward support I never thought I’d reach for
therapists,
coaches,
counsellors.

And it helped.

It really did.

But somewhere… there was still a missing piece to the puzzle.

Talk therapy was not enough.
Just somatics was not enough.

Something deeper was calling me.

Islamic integration was the missing piece.

So I started my own research journey.

I dove into nervous system healing.
Islamic psychology.
Soul rewiring.
Learning to accept Qadr (radical acceptance what the western psychology calls it)of what Allah had written.

Slowly, I began connecting the dots.

I even tapered off SSRIs without even going to the doctors lol. (Disclaimer: Don’t do it on your own, please check with your doctors).

and if you know, you know… that journey of tapering is not easy.

Healing wasn’t linear.

Every time I thought I was “done”…
a deeper layer surfaced.

More grief.
More fear.
More healing waiting for me.

But something beautiful happened too:

Each time I healed a layer
I recovered faster than before.

I felt stronger.
More regulated.
More emotionally safe in my own body.

More anchored in Allah than ever before.

That’s when I realized:

Healing isn’t perfection.
It’s capacity.

The capacity to feel without drowning.
To process without shutting down.
To trust Allah while still doing the inner work.

And that… changed everything.

Support That Carried Me

And I want to honour something important.

Allah placed mercy in my husband and mother-in-law.

During the most difficult period of my life
when I could barely walk they carried me.

They supported me.
They cared for my children.
They held space for my healing.

That support mattered deeply.

Why I Do This Work

Because I know I’m not the only Muslim woman who suffered silently.

So many are smiling outside…
and dysregulated inside.

My pain found purpose.

I do this work to show women:

You’re not broken.
You’re dysregulated.
And healing is possible.

Allah never abandons you even in your lowest nervous system state.

If you feel called to work with me, I offer 1:1 healing sessions.

This is deep, faith-integrated nervous system work not surface coaching.

I have 2 one on one coaching spots open for the month of March.

Apply below if you wanna take it!

With love and duas,
Noorain