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I reverted to Islam in August
of 1999. My first year as a muslim has been quite interesting. When a
person first "reverts" to Islam, you are on this emotional roller-coaster
ride, where you have your days when you are so happy to be a muslim, and
your days where you think that life was so much easier as a non-muslim,
especially when you don't have a strong community backing you up.
Alhumdulilla, my up days have been more than my down days, and I am happy
to report that I no longer have regrets, just memories, and the future is
definitely looking brighter than the past. With this said, here is my
reversion story. Enjoy!!!!
In January of 1999, I can
honestly say that my life was falling apart piece by piece. I was 23 years
old, married, with a new daughter that was born in September, working a
full time job in a mexican restaurant while my husband basically lived in
Virginia while he attended college and worked. My husband at the time was
from India, and he had received his greencard in January of 1999 and he
had all of a sudden developed his own plans, none of which included me or
the kids. (I also have a six year old daughter, who at the time was five)
He was a hindu, who originally came from New Delhi India. He decided to go
there and visit right away, and of course his family had their own plans
for him. I never really got the truth from his side, nor will I ever, but
most people tell me that his parents knew that he was married in the
States, and they didn't know about the kids or else they didn't care. They
wanted their son married to a traditional Indian woman, and that is what
was important. My friends where I worked knew of my situation, and had
tried to warn me about him in their own ways, but I refused to
believe what was happening to me could be true. That was until my life
started falling apart.
The people that I worked with
were mostly Indian and Pakistani, with an American or a Mexican thrown in
here and there for a nice ethnic mix. Most of the people were Muslim, but
not very religious in the sense that they had become Americanized. But not
all of them. There was a Pakistani guy that worked in the kitchen. His
name was Usman, and he was always very quiet. I had worked with his
cousin, Asjid, for years and we had always gotten along. Usman was new to
Casa Rico, and little was known about him except he was Asjid's cousin,
and that he was muslim. One day after my husband had gone to India, I
basically had a breakdown mentally at my job. I knew I was surrounded by
people that knew about my situation, but were bound by "custom" not to say
anything to me. Usman had started talking to me about it little by little,
asking me about things since we often had break around the same time. He
promised that he would always be there to listen, and he promised not to
judge me.
One day I poured my heart out
to him and I think it was a week later that I had a mental breakdown at
work. That day my thoughts were just pounding in my head. I felt like such
a failure, and i wanted to die. That night I went home and i held some
pills in my hand and decided that I wanted to end it all. I had nothing to
live for. I had been betrayed by my husband and his family, the same
people that I gave freedom to, I had two daughters that I could not
provide for and whose father didn't care about, I hated my job, I couldn't
go back to college because I couldn't afford it, the list just went on and
on. Most of all, I felt God didn't care about me. I used to pray and pray
that my situation would get better, but it only seemed to get worse. I
used to open that bible almost every night and search for the answers to
all my problems. Nothing related to my situation, my life did not relate
to God' word or God's plan. Then I thought about my kids, left all alone
with no one. How could I do it. I swallowed my pride, threw the pills, and
called my mom to take me to the hospital. I was broken and I needed
help.
That night I was admitted to
the psychiatric ward for severe emotional stress. For two days I did
nothing but cry and cry and cry. I did not sleep, I did not want to eat, I
just wanted to die. By the second day the hospital staff got involved and
they gave me medicine to sleep. I woke up 12 hours later with swollen eyes
and a broken heart, but I did feel somewhat better. I was ready to listen.
I opened the door and asked to speak to a counselor. Me and the counselor
talked for three hours. I told her my whole story. She told me that peace
starts in the heart, and that struggle is a natural process. After she
left I wrote down all the things in my life that I wanted to change. I
laid all goals and choose to be a survivor, for my kids sake. Visitor time
came, and the nurse came to me and said that I had a visitor. I asked who
it was and she said, Usman. Man I was so embarrassed. But I let him in. He
walked in and I just started crying. He told me to be brave and talk if I
wanted, but he had a few things to tell me. I was ready to listen. He said
one statement that I will never forget.
"My country is filled with
poverty and problems, but no one ever gets depressed and tries to kill
themself; do you know why?"
"No." I said. "Why?"
"Because the people in my
country have Islam. They have the Quran, the final word from God. This
Quran answers all of your questions and more. It will give you peace, if
only you believe."
This was Usman's reply. I vowed
to investigate Islam as soon as I could get out of the hospital.That night
I laid in bed and I thought about how my life was destined to change, if
only I could make it happen. If I only I knew where to look and find the
answers. I thought about the Quran and how little I knew of Islam. I
wondered about this mysterious book and why hadn't more people heard of
this "miracle?" I fell asleep with a ton of questions swirling around my
mind.
The next morning I met with my
doctor. I couldn't believe it when I walked into her office and stared
right into the face of a Pakistani Muslim doctor. I couldn't believe it.
She talked to me about my depression and I answered her questions as best
as I could without crying. I told her that my situation was just so
embarrassing and unbearable. She recommended that I seek regular
counseling and prescribed an anti-depressant.
A moment of silence followed as
she wrote out my release form. I took that opportunity to ask her about
Islam.
She took a moment, breathed in,
and closed her book. She asked how I knew of Islam and I told her I had
friends. She smiled and said she would be happy to give me any information
that I would need to investigate this further. We sat in her office for an
additional hour talking about how Islam was a way of life. She told me
about Mohammed (peace be upon him) and how he is the final messenger of
God. She told me about how Islam was very similar to Christianity and
Judaism, except Muslims believe that your relationship is directly with
God, and that no one should need to intercept this relationship. She told
me how we are all accountable for our own sins and that the people that do
bad in this world and do not believe in God will be punished by the
creator of all things. And she told me that Allah is the answer to all my
problems, and that the Quran is the best prescription for happiness. She
told me to fill the prescription for the anti-depressant, to investigate
Islam, and to come and see her or her staff if I had any other problems.
She told me I would be all right, and to keep in touch. She told me that
with Islam, I probably wouldn't need the medicine.
I left the hospital that day. I
filed for divorce the next day. Most importantly, I started my
investigation of Islam wholeheartedly. I enrolled Usman and my other
muslim friends in this quest for knowledge. Usman bought me a ton of books
to read, and I scourged through them like nobody's business!!! One day,
Usman took me and my children to a Pakistani store to buy Islamic books.
The storeowner was so excited to find that I was interested in Islam. He
gifted me my first Quran That night when I got home I was so happy. I
opened the Quran and started reading. I read until four am. I just
couldn't put it down. Surah-al Bukhara was intense. The Quran made me feel
like ....It was like God was talking to me!!! This indeed was the answer.
The Quran spoke of things that I had wondered all my life. What happens
when you die? Was Jesus God? Why did Jesus have to die for all of our
sins, when it was God who created us? Why would God die for us? The Quran
spoke of proofs...it talked of the rivers and oceans.. how they connect
and how they remain salt water and not salt water in certain areas. It
talked about the cycle of life inside the womb of the woman. How was
Mohammed (peace be upon him, to know of this? A unscholared man, a man
that could not read or write? How could he know things that were not known
to man until recent centuries? The Quran spoke of ships floating in the
water, ships made of steel... Mohammed lived in a desert. The Quran spoke
of mountains being like pegs, deeper on the bottom than it was high. These
are proofs from God. And we should believe.
I wanted to be muslim. This was
what my life was for. To be muslim. To be God's slave. This is the truth.
I took my shahada in August of
1999.
This was the happiest day of my
life.
My divorce from my husband
became final in March of 2000. I had not seen him for more than one year.
I broke off all communication from him and have not seen or heard from him
since I became Muslim. He doesn't want anything to do with the kids. I
don't care. My kids have Allah, and they have me.
In April of 2000, Usman asked
if I wanted to get married again. I told him yes. We got married April 13,
2000. Things have been wonderful, Alhumdulilla. My kids are doing great. I
am in college full time. I will graduate this May with my nursing degree.
My husband is the one who helped me convert to Islam. Allah is the best of
planners. I guess I was in God's plan after all.
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