There were moments in my recovery when the pain wasn’t just in my back—it was in my heart, my being, and in my silence.
People often assume that pain screams. But real pain… the kind that settles into your bones and rearranges or shuffles your emotions… that kind of pain is quiet. It doesn’t always cry loudly or complain bitterly. Sometimes, it just makes you sit. Still. Blank. Unable to talk, connect, or even feel anything.
And that was me.
There were days when I couldn’t explain what was wrong, not because I didn’t want to or because I didn’t believe in the Qadar of Allah SWT—but because I couldn’t find the words to express what I have truly felt these days. My mouth was silent, but my soul was screaming because it was snatched away very harshly. I’d be surrounded by people who loved me dearly, yet I felt completely alone and vulnerable. I knew all the Du’as in the world. I knew the Ayaat of comfort, etc. I knew what to say to myself. But knowledge doesn’t always fight off emotional numbness. And that’s okay sometimes.
Because now I’ve realized that even silence (Munajah) can be considered an act of worship.
Yes, silence. That blank stare and thought about Allah SWT. That pause before you force a fake smile for His sake. That heavy moment when you just sit in the pain, not knowing how to explain it. Allah SWT hears it loud and clear. Allah SWT sees it and, with it, sees your condition.
“He knows what is within the hearts.” Surah Al-Mulk 67:13
Pain can either pull you into a spiral of despair or draw you to Allah SWT, the Most Merciful. And sometimes… it does both. First it breaks you, then it gently reminds you that Allah SWT is there with you wherever you are.
So remember. You’re not broken because you’re silent. You’re not faithless because you’re struggling to cry out.
You’re just a human being—undergoing a Divine process.
And even when your tongue doesn’t move, your heart still makes Dhikr. Your tears are observed by Allah SWT and they make your scale of good deeds heavier than you think. Your silence is a form of patience and perseverance. And your inability to express yourself may be the most sincere Du’a you’ve ever made. So don’t despair.
But Let’s Be Real…
When someone came to visit me during my recovery and said, “Akhi, just be patient,” I fakely smiled like a saint, but internally I say…,“Would you like to swap spines and see how your Sabr holds up?”
(We laugh now, huh…) but Wallahi, in moments like these we usually hang on by threads.
So Here’s What I Learned:
Silence in pain is not weakness. It’s space for Allah SWT to speak into your heart and reshape who you truly are.
You don’t always need eloquent Du’a to create changes in your life. Sometimes, “Ya Allah…” is enough.
Emotional numbness is real. Don’t shame yourself for feeling disconnected—it might just be a necessary reset.
Don’t confuse quietness with spiritual failure. Some of the most beautiful transformations happen in silence.
To you, the silent soldier in pain:
I see you.I was you. And maybe in some ways, I still am.
Let your silence be filled with the remembrance that Allah SWT never sleeps, never forgets, and never fails to reward those who are patient.
Even if the whole world doesn’t understand the pain in your bones or the weight in your chest—He SWT does. And that’s more than enough.
You’re not alone in the silence. You’re closer than ever to the One who hears without words.
Next up in the series: Blog #3: “The pain that humbles the Body but elevates the soul”
