I’m Somali, which means I can only talk about my addictions in the past tense. Relapse can’t be in my closed captions. But I’m an addict, no scratch that… I am human. I’m also autistic. Addiction runs in my veins.
I’m Minnesotan now. Ice runs in my veins. But I’m still autistic, so I’m sensitive to everything. Especially the ice in my veins. Especially the pain. The pain.
Overheard my boy talking the other day. It was a group of us at a cafe. He said last Ramadan I relapsed. Headed to the hookah bar during daylight. Supposed to be fasting, can’t smoke. It was three of us there, all Somali. Nobody said anything to anyone.
We sat in separate corners, puffing in silence. A shroud of shame enveloped us. All Muslim, all addicts, all victims of past trauma. Supposed to be fasting, feeling like dirt about relapsing. I have hella days to make up before next Ramadan, he said.
I feel you bro. Sometimes it be like that. But Allah is ever present, ever Merciful. All we can do is keep trying, no matter how much we slip & fall short.
I heard a scholar once: the goal of Islam isn’t to die a perfect, sin-free human. The goal isn’t to reach a destination. The goal is to die on the path. And the path is keep trying. We are human, made to sin. Know that Allah loves you, especially if you repent. No matter how many times you fall.. just keep going back to Him. Let His Mercy enshroud you.
Remove that shroud of shame. Shame is a good thing, it means you have Faith. That you feel wrong for the things you do, knowing He is watching you. But too much shame can destroy you. How do I know? I’m Somali. Shame runs in our veins. Like ice. Like pain.
Freddie Gibbs once said: “I pray Allah protect my soul, nigga. Or give me the strength to ignore the things I can’t control, nigga. Cause I was living… by the code, nigga.”
Keep living, keep praying, keep trying. None of us are perfect. Tears are a good thing. Cry more. Let them ease your pain. And pray.