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Just a week ago, I walked the streets of Makkah with extreme happiness and joy in my heart; knowing I was walking in the streets His (saw) blessed feet touched. In Medina, I sat in the courtyard of the beautiful mosque of our beloved Prophet Muhammad (saw), overlooking His resting place, whilst my children ran around, with extreme peace and serenity in my heart.

I would go to sleep every night in excitement, knowing that tomorrow was yet another day. Another day to have my duas accepted. Another day to earn thousands of rewards by doing small acts. Another day, to worry about nothing other than making sure we were getting to the mosque on time.

My stay in Saudi was facilitated in such a way, that Allah made it so that I had no other worries or concerns. My 1 and almost 3 year old were happy, well rested and content. Despite visiting these blessed lands with young children, we weren’t held back in any way; we managed to do just as much as we had done in previous visits before we had children.

When I was there the days were slipping by too quickly for my liking, I was very conscious of the fact that, when I went back home. I would no longer feel as relaxed, peaceful or on this spiritual high.

I knew it would be harder to get out of our beds and perform fajr at home whilst our children slept, compared to the ease we felt at leaving our warm beds, walking to Mosque of the Prophet (saw) in the cold whilst carrying our sleeping children.

I knew this because Alhumdulillah, by the grace of Allah, I have been here before many times. And each time on my return, I’ve felt that there’s something missing. Something I’ve left behind. It’s hard to explain. It’s not something tangible. But it’s a loss that is felt acutely.

And that’s how I feel now.

I have the Post Umrah Blues. It’s main symptoms are restlessness, unease and detachment. I don’t feel like socialising, going shopping, or eating out. I like staying at home. At home, I have my books and lectures, that for a brief moment almost make me feel that I’m there again. Everything else is a distraction. And I know I feel like this because for a week I’ve been in intense training, where my day, my food, sleep etc has revolved around the daily salaah.

My Deen has revolved around Dunya. Which is how it should be. And the fact that I’m back in an environment where we struggle to make time to pray is the reason behind my sense of unease and detachment.

However, as much as this feeling of loss hurts my heart. I like that I feel this way. This is because it shows me that, my heart has become attached to what is most important in life. Him. And our relationship with Him. And when I’m away from Him. It hurts.

However, I speak from experience. I know this state is not permanent. Sooner or later, my heart and self will once again be engrossed in Dunya. And it will no longer hurt to be away from Him. But for now, I want to relish in my Post Umrah Blues, where the heart is soft and the eyes are quick to shed a tear. I want to enjoy the sweetness I feel when I wake up at night to talk to Him. I want to enjoy reading the Quran rather than feeling it’s a chore. I want to wait for Salaah rather than rush it when it happens. And I want to feel detached when I frequent the glitzy malls of the UAE.

I pray that He keeps me away from the antidote to my blues. I like my post Umrah Blues.