u/Jaded-Potato-2789

I am 25F, 225 lbs. I’ve done two 7 day water fasts before, and both times I developed a red, painful rash all over my upper body around day 7.

The first time, I thought it was some kind of allergic reaction and broke my fast since I had already reached my goal. The second time, the same thing happened and it was bad enough that I went to the ER. They gave me medication and sent me home, and I broke the fast again.

Other than the rash, I actually felt fine during both fasts. I’m interested in fasting again because it has been one of the easiest ways for me to lose weight, but I’m worried the rash will come back. I also have gastritis, which I manage with medication.

Has anyone experienced something similar during prolonged fasting? Could the rash actually have been caused by the fast, or does it sound like a coincidence? Would you personally avoid fasting again after this?

Does anyone else genuinely yearn to be a mother?
I don’t even know how to explain it properly, but I genuinely dream about and make dua for my future children. Sometimes I think I’m actually more excited about having and raising my kids than I am about the husband part of marriage itself.

I’ve honestly stopped talking about it as much because whenever the topic comes up, I feel like people judge me for how strongly I feel about it. Especially when I say I want a big family. So now when my friends talk about marriage, kids, waiting a few years, and all of that, sometimes I just sit there like “hmm” because I already know my answer is going to sound extreme to them

But I’ve felt this way for as long as I can remember. I’ve always wanted my education and I’m grateful for it, but I’ve also always known that if Allah blesses me with children, they would become my biggest priority. If my husband is able to provide, in sha Allah, I would genuinely love being home with them, raising them, teaching them, being involved in their lives, supporting them, and just being there. I think about how I would raise them more often than I probably should considering they don’t even exist yet.

Of course I have fears about motherhood too. Pregnancy, childbirth, whether I’ll actually be a good mother, whether my children will be healthy, the world they’ll grow up in, all of it. But subhanAllah, the hope and excitement still outweigh the fear for me.

I also notice that a lot of people talk about getting married and then waiting several years before having children, which is completely their choice and I’m not judging that at all. But personally, if I got married and everything was stable, I’d be like… okay, where are my babies? I want a big family in sha Allah.

I genuinely pray that Allah grants me righteous, healthy children and makes me a mother who raises them in a way that pleases Him. May Allah grant all of us righteous offspring who remain steadfast upon the straight path and become a source of sadaqah jariyah for us. Ameen.

Please tell me I’m not the only person who thinks about her future children this much before they even exist.

I have an older brother who is almost ten years older than me. Growing up, he was the kind of man many people would describe as a typical masculine Somali man. He was quiet, shy, introverted, hardworking, generous, and very protective of his family. Out of all of us, he was probably the closest to our hooyo. He was always beside her, checking on her, helping her, and making sure she had everything she needed. He was the kind of son a mother could depend on.

When he went to college, he met a girl and wanted to marry her. For reasons I am not willing to share, things did not work out between them. I think that heartbreak broke something inside him. I do not say this to blame the girl or excuse what happened afterward because ultimately, his choices were his responsibility. But I do believe heartbreak, loneliness, the wrong environment, and the influence of certain friends all played a part. Eventually, he fell into drugs, alcohol, shisha, and other substances. It continued for about a year or two before we discovered what was happening.

At first, we did not understand the change in him. The brother we knew had always been happy, loving, present, and generous. Suddenly, he became a shell of himself. He stayed indoors, isolated himself, stopped interacting with us, and pulled away from everyone. Even his relationship with our hooyo changed. We knew something was deeply wrong, but we did not know what. Because we were so concerned, we eventually followed him and found out the truth the hard way.

I will never forget that day or the look in my mother’s eyes. She was in complete shock, repeatedly saying his name and crying, “Alla wiilkaygiyow, Alla wiilkaygiyow.”I remember crying too because it was one of the most painful moments our family had ever experienced. When my brother saw our hooyo, he hugged her and cried like a baby. This was my older brother, someone I had always seen as strong and composed, completely breaking down in her arms. He kept apologizing and saying, “Hooyo, ii caawi. Hooyo, ii caawi .”

Alhamdulillah, because of the bond they had, he was willing to listen to her. My mother told him that we would help him, but he also had to be willing to help himself. We could change his environment and support him, but he had to take accountability and genuinely want a different life. She decided he needed to get away from the people, places, and habits surrounding him, so he went back home for almost two years. During that time, he worked on himself, rebuilt his deen, and separated himself from the environment that had contributed to his addiction.

It has now been several years since all of this happened. Alhamdulillah, today my brother is married and has a child. He is one of the most present and loving fathers a child could ask for. He works hard, takes care of his wife, and absolutely dotes on his child. Sometimes I look at the man he is today and remember the condition he was once in, and all I can say is Alhamdulillah. He does not hide the fact that Allah saved him. He openly says that it was Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala who brought him out of that darkness.

He still carries regret, especially because he knows how much he hurt our mother. Even now, he sometimes apologizes to her and says, “Hooyo, I disappointed you. I broke your heart.” But our mother never stopped making dua for him. I remember her constantly telling us, “Make dua for your brother. Pray for him.” She prayed for his guidance every single day. When everything seemed frightening and uncertain, she continued turning to Allah and asking Him to return her son to her.

Today, my brother uses his experience to advise younger people. He speaks to our younger cousins and tries to guide youth who are struggling. He warns them not to allow heartbreak, bad friends, or one difficult period to derail their entire lives. Because he has lived through it himself, he speaks with an understanding that many others do not have.

The reason I am sharing this is because substance abuse is becoming very common among our youth, including within the Somali and Muslim communities. Sometimes we assume that addiction only happens to people who were neglected, badly raised, or lacking guidance, but that is not always the case. It can happen to someone from a loving family. It can happen to someone who was once responsible, religious, caring, and full of life. It can happen much closer to home than we imagine.

I once asked my brother why he did not come to us when he first realized he was struggling. His answer was shame. He said, “How could I go to Hooyo and tell her this after the way she raised me?” That stayed with me because sometimes the shame within our community does not stop the addiction. It only forces the person to hide it better. They already feel disgusted with themselves, so they isolate themselves. The isolation makes them more depressed, and the depression pushes them further toward the substance. By the time the family notices, the person may already feel completely trapped.

This does not mean we excuse their actions or tolerate everything they do. Accountability is necessary. Boundaries are necessary. Professional treatment and proper resources can also be necessary. But shame alone will not heal anybody. Calling someone a disgrace, abandoning them, or treating them as though they are beyond Allah’s mercy may only push them deeper into the darkness.

Before this happened, I never thought I could tolerate being around someone struggling with drug abuse. I still do not excuse it, but this experience taught me the difference between enabling someone and helping them. You can hold someone accountable while still reminding them that they are loved and that recovery is possible.

If you are a parent, sibling, cousin, or friend, build a relationship in which your loved ones feel safe coming to you before everything falls apart. Pay attention when someone suddenly becomes withdrawn or stops acting like themselves. Ask questions and listen without immediately humiliating them. Help them find real resources. Remind them of Allah, but also remind them that seeking treatment is not a sign of weak iman.

If you are the one struggling, please do not allow shame to convince you that you are beyond saving. Allah is Ar Rahman, the Most Merciful. He is Ar Raheem, the Especially Merciful. He is Ar Ra’uf, the Most Kind, and Al Wahhab, the Giver of Gifts. No matter how far you believe you have fallen, you are not outside His mercy. Speak to Him, even if you feel like you cannot speak to another person yet. Ask Him to inspire change within your heart and guide you toward the people and resources that can help you.

Do not underestimate dua. Make dua for the people you love, even when they appear completely lost. We live in a frightening world, and a person’s life can change so quickly. The people we love need our prayers, our presence, and sometimes our willingness to help them stand again. Whenever I look at my brother today, taking care of his family and using his past to guide others, I think about how differently his story could have ended.
Alhamdulillah for hidayah, Alhamdulillah for second chances, and Alhamdulillah for the brother Allah returned to us. May Allah guide us all and grant us His Jannah. Ameen.

Asc everyone,
I’ve been getting to know a guy for quite some time now, and alhamdulillah, things have been going well overall. We’ve had serious conversations about marriage, our values align in a lot of ways, and I genuinely think he’s a great potential spouse.

That said, I’ve recently started noticing something that concerns me, and I wanted to get some outside perspectives.

Whenever we have a disagreement or one of us gets hurt, we’re both very avoidant. We’ll acknowledge that something happened, maybe apologize briefly, and then… that’s kind of it.

For the next couple of days, things become a little awkward. We still check in with each other with a quick “How are you?” or “You good?” but we don’t actually talk about what happened. Then, after two or three days, it’s like nothing ever happened and we’re back to normal.
The issue is that we never really sit down and discuss why it happened, how we felt, or how to prevent it from happening again. It’s usually just “my bad” or “sorry,” and then we move on.

I think what I struggle with the most is that after something happens, I need accountability and clarity, even if I’m the one who was wrong. I like understanding what happened, how it made the other person feel, and how we can avoid ending up in the same situation again. I don’t need a huge argument, but I do need some kind of conversation before I can fully move on.

The thing is, he seems much more emotionally closed off than I am. If I apologize, he accepts it and that’s the end of it. He won’t ask what was going through my mind or why I reacted the way I did. Likewise, if he apologizes, we don’t really unpack anything either. We both just… move on.
I’ve also noticed something about myself that I don’t really like.

Normally, I’m very affectionate. I’ll check in throughout the day, send random pictures, ask how he’s doing, or just text him because I’m thinking about him. But if we’re upset with each other, I completely stop doing those things. I don’t ignore him, but I definitely pull back. I become much quieter and less affectionate until things feel “normal” again.

I don’t know if that’s my way of protecting myself or if it’s just me being avoidant too. Part of me wonders if it’s petty, but another part of me genuinely doesn’t know how to act warm and affectionate when something between us feels unresolved.
That’s why I’m thinking about this now before marriage.
Can two people who both avoid conflict actually build a healthy marriage if they’re willing to work on it? Has anyone else had a relationship like this that improved over time?

And if you’re someone who also tends to withdraw after disagreements, how did you learn to communicate instead of just waiting for the awkwardness to pass?
Aside from this, I genuinely think he’s a good man, which is why I want to figure out whether this is simply a communication skill we both need to build or whether it’s something that could turn into resentment later on.
I’d really appreciate any advice or experiences.