Reclaiming My Spirituality This Ramadan Despite Pandemic-Induced Depression

March 25, 2021

As a Muslim, it's quite taboo to say you aren't looking forward to the holy month. Most Muslims will tell you that it is their favorite time of year, and if you're a Muslim who doesn't feel the same way, chances are you feel pressured to keep it to yourself for fear of judgment.

I like Ramadan, but the truth is, I've always been a little jealous of how much enjoyment others seem to get from it, even in a normal year. As a convert with no family and very few Muslim friends, I've always missed out on much of the social aspect of Ramadan. Spending time with your loved ones and breaking the fast together, dressing up as a family and going to Eid prayers and celebrations. Even going to the masjid for dinner and nighttime prayers isn't the same if you don't have friends to go with, especially for someone like me who doesn't fit the mold. I often feel like an outsider at the masjid and don't necessarily like to go alone.

Fasting alone, having most iftars alone, and just being alone 99% of the time sometimes makes it hard to remember what a beautiful time Ramadan is supposed to be, that it isn't just a normal day, in the same way that Christmas might not feel like Christmas to people without loved ones.

And this year, as well as last, that feeling has been amplified for me.

To be honest, I have struggled a lot with my spirituality over the past year due to all the stressors that have arisen, including working in a busy emergency room during a healthcare crisis, no longer being able to blow off steam in any of the ways I used to, lower self-esteem caused by weight gain, and lack of human contact outside of work. While some people -- especially those who found themselves at home or with a lot more spare time -- might have looked to their spirituality to get them through, it's had the opposite effect on me: pandemic-induced depression has made it harder and harder to be spiritual.

In fact, it's made it harder and harder to do any of the things I enjoy or should be doing. I am in a constant state of exhaustion and burnout, and even when I have free time, I often have trouble persuading myself to do anything -- even the things I know I love. Sometimes those things are as simple as washing my hair or shaving or cooking something. I've been planning to do a foot soak and mask for the past two months, and still haven't gotten around to it. My life is filled with things that I keep meaning to do, but haven't gotten around to. I sometimes have to force myself to do even the things I love doing, like writing, painting or listening to music, which have been the major things keeping me sane throughout all of this. Sometimes even turning on a speaker and hitting a button on my YouTube Music app seems too much. So how am I supposed to pray and be spiritual? That takes effort and I often just don't have the spoons (or mental energy/motivation).

And when I think back to last Ramadan, the thing I remember the most is how exhausting it was. How my breath smelled underneath my surgical mask when I was fasting at work. I'm not exaggerating when I say that it smelled like an electrical fire. As if I were burning up from the inside out. I've been fasting for Ramadan for several years now, but I've never felt so affected by dehydration as I did last year when I was forced to wear a mask for 10-12 hours of fasting.

The loneliness of being a solitary Muslim during this time was increased tenfold, as well. Even community meals and prayers at the masjid weren't a possibility anymore. I've never been the type to go to the masjid every night during Ramadan anyway, but until last year, going there was always an option, and I would try to go at least a few times throughout the month. My favorite thing about Ramadan, the huge Eid prayer ceremony, was canceled as well, for obvious reasons.

None of us wanted to still be here a year later, but... here we are. Things are a little more optimistic this year, with many of us getting vaccinated, but it still isn't to a point where it's safe to celebrate Ramadan and/or Eid the way we normally would.

And so with three weeks remaining until the first day of fasting, I found that I was really not filled with anticipation or excitement, but dread at the idea of spending another Ramadan the same way I spent the last one. On top of all the other stressors, having to fast for a month now just seemed like another burden to add to the pile, when my shoulders already feel like collapsing under the weight of what's already on top of them.

Did I blame Islam for making me fast? No. We all have free will and it's my personal choice to fast. So then you might be asking, "Why not just skip it this year then?"

But of all the variables this year, the fasting isn't the one I would choose to remove. It isn't that I don't want it to be Ramadan, but that I want it to be a normal Ramadan, which is something I can't have. I'm tired of the pandemic for so many reasons and this is just one of them. Even if I could stay home from work and fast in the comfort of my own apartment, I'd take it. At least then I wouldn't have to deal with the burning breath smell, increased dehydration and rising body temperature. It's these added variables that have sucked the enjoyment out of something I really want to enjoy.

Ramadan itself is not the culprit here. And that's what I have to keep reminding myself. Ramadan is a beautiful thing, a thing I want to be doing. And it's only one of many, many things that have been ruined by COVID-19. It's the virus I'm mad at, not Ramadan, and certainly not Islam. Not even myself, for that matter.

So I'm doing my best to combat this feeling. I really am trying to remind myself to take care of me, including my spirituality, despite my sometimes soul-sucking job and all of these other burdens.

We often make "Ramadan goals" during this time: things that we want to focus on or improve about ourselves during this month. This year, my goal is to reclaim my spirituality. There's no better time to do it than this. Even though I'm dreading the long hours of fasting on top of everything else I'm dealing with, I'm going to at least make an effort to remember what fasting is all about. I have a couple of ways I'm planning to do this.

When I moved into my apartment in 2019, I had big plans for the following year's Ramadan, including inviting friends over for iftars at my apartment or on my balcony, decorating with lights, etc. Obviously, none of that ever came to fruition. But this year, even though the social aspect isn't an option, and it will be far from the perfect Ramadan, I'd like to revisit the idea of Ramadan decorations, particularly the same crescent-moon shaped decorative lights I first saw in 2019 when I had this idea. Then at least when I come home from work, I'll see the lights and be reminded that this is a special time and not just a normal day with the added burden of fasting.

Another way to get excited is reading, but aside from the many other things that I do "wrong" as a Muslim, I'm not into reading the Qur'an for enjoyment. However, books about the Qur'an or Islam that use modern language and apply modern, progressive commentary are more valuable to me as forms of instruction and entertainment. So I got out the textbook from the Islam 101 class I used to go to (a class at a local mosque for new Muslims and non-Muslims interested in learning about the religion). I loved going to that class a few years ago. My goal is to read the entire book over the 30 days of Ramadan to get myself engaged, reconnect, and hopefully, inshallah, find peace.

I know that there have to be other Muslims out there who are struggling the same way I am this year, especially those working in healthcare and other high-stress jobs, those who may struggle with their mental health, live alone or have no Muslim family, or perhaps new Muslims who were still just learning how to fast when all of this happened (it will get easier post-pandemic, I promise!)

One of my favorite things about writing is how the therapeutic aspect of simply putting something into words can actually help a lot. I feel a lot better now than I did when I started writing this, and am beginning to get more excited about decorating and trying to make this Ramadan special. Journaling in this way is like venting to an understanding friend. If you're Muslim and you can relate to what I'm saying, but you don't have a writing outlet like I do, and you're embarrassed to bring it up to other Muslims, I'm here for you. I want you to know you're not alone, and if you need someone to talk to about it, you can always contact me, whether we know each other or not. Or maybe you're a different religion but have similar struggles. I'm still here and you can still reach out if you need support.

If you haven't already, you can read my previous entry all about my journey to Islam, and how I maintain my individuality while also finding importance in spirituality, here.

As-salaam alaikum -- peace be upon you!

tags: islam, religion/faith, special dates, covid-19, mental health