Chronically ill in Dzulhijjah

 Bismillahir Rahmanir Rahim

اللَّهُمَّ صَلِّ عَلَی مُحَمَّدٍ وَ آلِ مُحَمَّد

🌿Chronically ill in DzulHijjah🌿

We’ve now entered the first ten days of DzulHijjah—an incredibly blessed time to maximize our acts of worship and strive for the immense rewards Allah has promised. But for those living with chronic illness, being in a constant state of ibadah can feel overwhelmingly difficult. The pain isn’t just physical—it weighs heavily on the mind and heart as well. Chronic illness affects every part of our lives, and some days feel unbearably hard. There are moments when it seems like we’ve lost control, and all we can do is acknowledge our struggle and vulnerability.

Walk in the footsteps of Hajar; alone in the dry desert, aching and desperate yet full of faith. Running between Safa and Marwa wasn’t just a search for water. It was a cry for mercy.

Allah heard her pain and brought forth Zamzam.

Your own desert may feel dry and endless, but Allah can cause relief to spring from the hardest places. Your Sa’i may not look like Hajar’s, but your striving is just as sacred.

Yet, we cannot allow our emotions and mental states to hold our lives hostage. We must strive to live in the present, to be fully aware and grounded in each moment—whether it's with ourselves, our families, our loved ones, our friends, or with our Creator. Though we may stumble and judge ourselves harshly, it's essential that we keep learning to rewrite the narratives we carry within our minds.

It’s not easy. Many of us have sought help from professionals to cope with anxiety, depression, and the trauma that often walks hand in hand with chronic illness. We struggle with the changes our bodies undergo—not just from the illness itself but also from the harsh side effects of necessary medications.

And that’s okay. Islam encourages us to seek help and take care of our well-being. Still, we recognize that access to support can be difficult—limited by our health, financial constraints, and the overall impact our condition has had on our lives.

As we enter these first ten blessed days of DzulHijjah, let us begin to rewrite the negative narratives in our minds. Let’s use this sacred time to seek the immense rewards that Allah has promised, even in our pain, even in our struggle.

Accessibility

Allah is always accessible. And that means His Mercy is too. You don’t have to be in a state of prayer or even have wudhu’ to talk to Him. Every whispered doa—whether long or short—uttered in exhaustion, frustration, or desperation, even on a packed train or in the quiet of your room, is your act of worship. It is your jihad. And He is listening.

What will your doa' be today?

“Ya Allah, I can't today. My mind tells me I'm not enough. I can’t face my family, my friends. It’s just too hard. I want to sleep the pain away. Ya Qawiy, I lean on You. Give me strength. Give me clarity. Help me.”

“Ya Muhaimin, my fingers ache. Ya Shafi, I can’t even open a bottle of chilli sauce. Help me.”

This is ibadah too. Your struggle is seen.

Forgiveness

Seek forgiveness—not just from Allah, but also extend it to yourself. For the times you feel you’ve fallen short, for the moments you feel broken or lost. Give it all to Him. Be gentle with your soul. Allah loves those who show mercy—and that includes showing mercy to yourself.

Little by little, begin to release what weighs you down. Is it anger? Hurt? Self-doubt? Name it. Be truthful with yourself, even when it stings. Because in that honesty, there is freedom. There is healing.

Abdullah ibn Amr reported: The Messenger of Allah, peace and blessings be upon him, said, “The merciful will be shown mercy by the Most Merciful. Be merciful to those on the earth, and the One in the heavens will have mercy upon you.”

Source: Sunan al-Tirmidhī 1924

Grade: Sahih (authentic) according to Al-Tirmidhi

عَنْ عَبْدِ اللَّهِ بْنِ عَمْرٍو قَالَ قَالَ رَسُولُ اللَّهِ صَلَّى اللَّهُ عَلَيْهِ وَسَلَّمَ الرَّاحِمُونَ يَرْحَمُهُمْ الرَّحْمَنُ ارْحَمُوا مَنْ فِي الْأَرْضِ يَرْحَمْكُمْ مَنْ فِي السَّمَاءِ

1924 سنن الترمذي كتاب البر والصلة باب ما جاء في رحم

Forgive yourself—when you can't fast, when you're unable to give sadaqah, when your prayers are done lying down or sitting because your body just won’t allow more. Forgive yourself. Allah understands. And His Mercy is greater than our limitations.

So, what can I do?

Close your eyes and say Astaghfirullah for 3 minutes.

 Focus your heart. Let each word be a step closer to healing. If you need help keeping count, download the “Tasbih Lite” app—it helps track your zikr and goals. Sit with your eyes closed for as long as you can, just being present with your remembrance.

Be kind to someone else.

 Being kind to yourself is powerful. So is extending that kindness outward. Did a nurse treat you well at your hospital visit? Leave a kind word of feedback. Let someone know they made your day. It might just make theirs.

Make doa. Ask and ask and ask.

 Ask with full certainty in Allah’s response. Don’t overthink the words—just let your heart speak. That’s all that matters. That’s enough.

Do extra sunnah prayers.

 Even two raka’at hold tremendous weight. Set the intention. If you’re unable to complete it physically, know that you’re rewarded just for your sincere intention.

Make doa for someone else.

 When someone crosses your mind, don’t ignore it. Make doa for them. Perhaps Allah placed them in your thoughts for a reason—a quiet opportunity for barakah to enter both your lives.

May this DzulHijjah be the turning point—the sacred window we need to rewrite our inner script and embrace the rewards that await.

Keep making doa. Keep being kind. Even in struggle, there is ibadah. Even in stillness, there is immense reward.