Healing didn’t begin for me as soon as I had hoped. For years, I’ve been trapped in a creativity block, lost in the labyrinth of my own mind, searching for myself amidst the wreckage of trauma and history. Pieces of me lay scattered, some buried deep within, threatening to surface as life piled one dilemma on top of another. And yet, through the debris, new parts of me began to emerge—slowly, painfully, but persistently.

Evolving.
Like the relentless mutation of a virus.

I took that time, though it was agonizing. Every day was a battle with anxiety.

Will I make it?
What’s really in it for me?
Which version of me should I feed?
And why…?

Here I was, a writer without a pen, a soul without a muse. Every night, as I drifted into sleep, my dreams offered nothing but a blank sheet of paper. I would crumple it, untouched by ink, and toss it aside. How could I find my words if I didn’t even feel like I existed?

Reviews from: HERE and HERE

Reinventing Myself: A LinkedIn Profile and a Shift in Purpose

My LinkedIn profile became a reflection of this internal struggle. I reinvented it to post Islamic motivations and reminders because nothing else resonated with me anymore. The pursuit of a career felt meaningless. Job offers came and went, but I rejected them all. In my lowest moments, I turned to the remnants of my past—pictures, paintings, doodles, and sketches. I revisited the written fragments that made it into my now-unpublished book, Moments of Nil, and those that never saw the light of day. Unfinished chapters and random aphorisms became my solace, as I no longer had the focus to read a full novel.

I tried to rekindle my love for literature, but my mind refused to cooperate. Instead, I found comfort in non-fiction—books by Muslim authors, mostly motivational guides, how-to(s), and DIY manuals. My husband, sensing my struggle, helped me reconnect with the Quran by sharing an app that presents a verse each time I open my phone. It was a small step, but one that reminded me of the divine guidance I had been neglecting.

That’s how far I allowed my weary self to go—licking my wounds, nursing stories I no longer had the strength to tell. Explaining myself felt like an insurmountable task, and I feared my words would be dismissed as excuses.

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Reflections and Realizations

Looking back, I see how my posts reflected my subconscious concerns. Whether I curated them to fit a “LinkedIn-appropriate” theme or not, these motivations were, first and foremost, for me. They were reminders to myself before they became reminders for others.

This year, however, felt different.

Bits and pieces of me began to rise to the surface, reminding my latest “versions” of the little things that once completed my complex being. After all, what is a writer if not complex?

Is this, finally, healing?

A New Chapter: Writing Again

I plan to write and publish again, in shaa’ Allah. It’s a goal I’ve set for next year. Stepping away from social media these past few years has proven to be a healthy decision, and I intend to continue that distance. Instead, I will revive my blog, which has been on a semi-hiatus, and pour my energy into creating once more.

To those who have followed my journey, I leave you with a glimpse of what’s to come. In this post are some visuals, including a photo of Moments of Nil, a page from the book, and a few snippets. I’ve also included two reviews of the book, translated via Google, which may sound a bit odd in places but serve to pique your interest.

And finally, a hint of what I’ll be starting with—Changed.

“But I am Fire.
I will break out sooner or later…

As long as there is still something to keep me burning, I will make my way out every time. Even if it means destroying things—things that matter to me, especially things that don’t.

No matter what, I will find a way.
I would run wild.”

– Flora Tavu, 2008

Closing Thoughts

Healing is not linear. It’s messy, painful, and often slow. But it’s also transformative. As I step into this new chapter, I carry with me the lessons of the past and the hope of what’s to come. Writing has always been my refuge, and I’m ready to return to it—not just for myself, but to share the stories that need to be told.

Thank you for being part of this journey. Here’s to new beginnings, in shaa’ Allah.