Garments For Each Other

Garments For Each Other

5/23/2025, 6:48:20 PM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Friday 23rd May 2025*, *Garments for Each Other©* *– Laced with Tears and Threads of Hope* *Dear Diary*, *Bismillah* This morning unfurled like a whispered dua… the kind you don't hear out loud, but feel deep within the depth of your chest. The sky was veiled in soft grey, and the wind had the scent of distant rain, gentle and cool. I sat by the window with my ginger tea, watching the sleepy world stretch itself awake, and thought—what a mercy to witness the beginning of another day. Subhan Allah!! After Fajr, I sat with my Mamulat in the outside verandah breathing and deeply inhaling the fresh air. The day began as usual just that i didn't have breakfast with Ahmad. He left in a rush without having any breakfast I phoned Ammi and gently brought up the Tajweed class. Her voice came alive with excitement , just the way it used to when she would hear a child recite beautifully. I told her I had spoken to the Tajweed Teacher, and she was officially enrolled for the upcoming week. She hesitated at first, her voice tinged with doubt, _“Beta, at this age? I’m not sure I’ll manage...”_ I paused and said, “At this age, Ammi, it’ll mean the most. Every letter you perfect will get you so much reward ,. .” She excitedly agreed. By mid-morning, Zahra’s message came. She had finally told her parents everything. Her husband’s betrayal. The wound that bled inside her every night as she smiled and tried to hold her home together. Her parents were shocked but composed. They sat as a family, made istighfar together, and Zahra told them she wanted to forgive him, to offer their marriage another chance, for the sake of Allah and their future. They felt truly proud of their daughter and their own Tarbiyah at that moment. But when she told him about it … he said he needed time to deal with his guilt. That he wanted a long-term separation. My heart clenched hearing her voice break. She said, “I was willing to let go of the past Shezi… but he wasn’t willing to return to the present.. Imagine ” Surprisingly, her parents agreed, although devastated, giving him the time he asked for. But I could feel her slowly breaking, her hope being peeled away like old wallpaper. Ya Allah, bring healing into her heart. I silently prayed. Just as my heart sank into a sea of sadness, Rehana’s call brought a burst of laughter. She sounded chirpy, happy—her husband had taken her out the night before, bought her the latest perfume, and they had dessert by the hillside restaurant. She giggled saying, “Shezi, he said I was the best thing that ever happened to him… and told me I’m the calm to his chaos!” “ Wow” I exclaimed and smiled with my whole being. “But Shezi, I still need to see apa.. “ she said with a little bit of uncertainty. *OK let's go after halaqah today? “ I suggested. “No, Shezi I can't… Are you free now? “ She asked. “ Give me half an hour please… I need to finish everything before I come. ” I said I finished my chores and left with Rehana around 11 a.m. . Apa welcomed us with warm eyes and sweet words. Once settled, Rehana shared her concern. “Apa my husband is kind, so very generous, and affectionate even expressive—but his nights and weekends belong to his friends.” She said worriedly. “What do you mean Rehana!? “ Apa prompted “Like he leaves with them after Maghreb and comes around 2am. Some days he comes early like before midnight “ Rehana continued. “Did you talk to him about it? “ “Yeah, he says it's just friends. And they spend time together and have a good time… * “I see… “ Apa gently acknowledged “They’re all unmarried, Apa. They mess around a lot. Sometimes I feel… like he’s still living a bachelor life,” she said, eyes lowered. Apa listened with the gentleness of a mother and the wisdom of a sage. She said, “Beta, men crave comfort, but they chase excitement. Your job is to become both. Join him in what he enjoys, even if it bores you. Watch the match, laugh at the jokes, be the joy in his weekend. But also set boundaries. Speak from love, not control.” Then Rehana mentioned the password on his phone. “It just feels… strange. Like he has something to hide.” Apa replied calmly, “Privacy is one thing, secrecy is another. A marriage thrives on transparency. Talk to him without accusations. Say, ‘I want us to be open. I don’t want doubts to have space between us.’ Let your love feel like safety, not surveillance. He’ll open up.” Rehana nodded, grateful. I could see relief wash over her face. I whispered a prayer in my heart that her joy continues to grow, and her concerns melt into trust. In the evening, Ammi called. Her voice held that warm motherly excitement. “Beta, I want to invite you both—with your in-laws—for lunch on Saturday. I want to cook for all of you. This house needs laughter, the kind that only family brings.” I laughed and told her that her son in law will not manage to come but I promise to be there. I know she’s trying to fill the spaces that echo now… spaces left by us daughters when we became someone else’s home. As I sit here, I think of how these days are intertwined with the most fragile strands—tears, hope, uncertainty, little joys. All of them are like garments we wear daily. Some are warm. Some are heavy. But all of them—every thread— every strand - is part of what Allah is weaving for us. Ya Allah, clothe my sisters with sabr, my parents with peace, and my heart with contentment. And then there is Ahmad. What can I say? He’s travelling abroad early tomorrow morning for an important meeting. It’s a big opportunity for his project—something he’s worked hard for . I saw the way his eyes sparkled while he explained the details to me. I smiled, nodded, encouraged him. But now, as I sit on the edge of our bed folding his clothes into his suitcase, my smile has faded. A strange ache sits in my chest. A part of me wants to beg him not to go —“Stay… let’s go somewhere together instead. Let’s just be still in each other’s presence and forget the world outside.” But another part of me—perhaps the part that truly loves him—wants him to go. Wants him to succeed. Wants to see him reach new heights and return with good news. I fold his white thobe slowly, press out the creases with my hands, and whisper, “Ya Allah, protect him. Let his efforts be accepted. Open doors for him. Bring him back to me safely.” Tears begin to glide down my cheeks without warning. They fall onto the fabric of his thobe like silent duas. I don’t wipe them. Let them soak in. Let them travel with him. Maybe they’ll be a source of Barakah. May be he will feel my presence with him. He came in a while ago, hugged me and said, “I’ll miss you, Shezi.” I just smiled and nodded. Couldn’t speak. My heart was too full. After a while I said, “Please keep your phone charged and do stay in touch. “ It’s strange, this emotion. How deeply we can love. How much it hurts to let go, even for a short while. I pray his journey is blessed. I pray our home remains calm and filled with Dhikr while he’s away. And I pray for the day he walks back in—tired, successful, and smiling—with stories to tell and dreams that took their first flight. Tonight, I wear the garment of patience. It’s a bit tight around the neck. But it’s the one that suits the occasion. *Ya Rabb. Be with him. Be with me.* *Love Shezana*

Garments For Each Other

5/25/2025, 8:01:14 PM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Garments for Each Other* *Sunday 25th May* Dear Diary, It’s been a day and a half since Ahmad left, and I can feel the weight of his absence in every moment. He left early Saturday morning—just before Fajr. I stood at the door, trying to smile as I waved goodbye, pretending my heart wasn’t already aching. I watched the taillights disappear into the soft morning mist, and as soon as the gate shut behind him, I felt the world quieten in a way that only separation can create. Tears glided down my cheeks with much ease and as I wiped them, more flowed. I returned to our room. The bed was still warm on his side. His pillow still carried the scent of his cologne—cedarwood and musk. His slippers stood by the cupboard like they were waiting for him to slip into them. I paused. He always slid into them with that tired sigh, stretching slightly before coming to breakfast. Breakfast. That’s when I missed him next. I sat alone at the table, nibbling toast. The sound of the toaster popping felt louder than usual. I poured tea into his cup before realising he wasn’t there. The silence was sharp. I busied myself with texts to him, keeping the thread going, checking on his travel, reminding him about his charger, asking if he had snacks. Each ping from him brought a flutter to my heart, and yet with each reply I missed him more. At noon, I went to Ammi’s house for lunch. Everyone was there— Rehanas in laws and mine, minus my Ahmad. The men were seated outside in the verandah, the late spring sun making the whole space warm and inviting. There was laughter—deep belly laughs and gentle chuckles—and a sense of peace that only comes when family gathers. The ladies were in the main hall, spread out on soft floor cushions with trays of food being passed around. There was biryani—fluffy, fragrant, and rich—roast chicken glistening with a buttery glaze, fresh cucumber raita, and tamarind chutney. Rehana had brought a tray of cream rolls, and Ammi’s homemade carrot halwa was served hot with thick cream on top. I should have been soaking in the warmth and the chatter. And I did, to an extent. But all the while, my heart was waiting for Ahmad to walk in, to squeeze my hand gently as he passed by or tease me about taking too long to eat. At one point, I went to the kitchen for some juice and saw Rehana laughing with her husband by the fridge. They were whispering something, both trying not to laugh too loudly. And it hit me like a wave—I wanted Ahmad there, joking beside me, teasing me as I poured drinks. I smiled, but inside, it hurt. After dessert, while guests started leaving, Ammi held my hand and asked, “Why don’t you stay the night, beta? Ahmad’s not here anyway.” Even my mother-in-law gently encouraged, “Stay, you’ll feel better here. Don’t go back to that quiet house.” I smiled, thankful for their love. But something tugged at me—a strange pull. I couldn’t explain it. I needed to go home. To our room. To that quiet. Maybe to feel the ache fully. So I left. That night, I cried. Alone, curled up with his pillow, I sobbed. And it helped. Tears cleared the fog around my heart. I fell asleep somewhere between longing and peace. The next morning, I woke up before dawn. I made wudu and stood for Tahajjud. I poured my heart into duas—for his success, for his safe return, for our togetherness. My tears returned, but these felt hopeful. After Fajr, I got a text. He’d reached safely. “I thought of you all day,” he wrote. *“Every hour felt like I was missing something. Turns out, it was you.”* My heart ached with love. And also with sadness. The kind of sadness that’s only born out of deep connection. Later that morning, Rehana called. Her voice sounded low. “Sadiq is going on a trip with his friends for the weekend,” she sighed. “I tried to tell him he should prioritise me… I mean, I get it, he says he loves me the most, but still…” I listened as she explained how she let him go, even though she didn’t feel right. At around 9am, she texted me again. “He left me a gift. A Swarovski ring… with a note: ‘For the one who makes my ordinary moments feel extraordinary.It was a beautiful feeling.. “ I invited her over to my house for the long weekend , but she suggested something better. “Let’s spend the weekend at Ammi’s. Like old times.” I smiled and immediately asked my mum. “Of course, beta! Go enjoy, I’ll pack some burfee for your Ammi and Abba,” she said, her voice full of warmth. Rehana, though, had a little resistance from her side when she asked her mother in law. She called to tell me, “hey Shezi Maa is making a fuss here.What should I do? Eesh!! I asked her, “can I go to Ammi’s for the weekend with Shezana?” and she became furious Shezi!! She squealed, “Go? Now?Are you crazy? You know, I want to make pies! Who’s going to help me?” “Rehana, listen to me, be nice to her. Please, please, persuade her kindly to let you come! “ “I did, I told her that I will help her when I come back.. “ “Oh shukar! It's sorted! ” I said Rehana laughed. “After a few sighs and pursed lips, she gave in. “Fine, go. But do the laundry before you leave.She said. “ Rehana laughed again in the phone before putting it down. We met at Ammi’s around 10 am. We hugged like as though we saw each other after years. Once we were in our room, Rehana said in a whisper, “While doing Sadiq’s laundry, I found something odd in his trouser pocket.” “Like what” “Umm… ” “What did you find? “ I asked her worriedly. “It was something ajeeb. I took it to Maa and showed her. She didn't know what it was.Just then, our employee Musa walked by and said, “Oh! That’s the vape I bought for Mr. Sadiq… ShShezi we both froze.” She took a deep breath. “I asked Musa more casually. He said boss likes cherry flavour and he buys one every week. Every week, Shezana.” Her voice was a mix of surprise and sorrow. That afternoon, while Ammi chatted with an aunty, Rehana and I caught up in the corner of the room. “Why didn’t he tell me?” she asked, eyes distant. “It’s not just the vape. It’s the hiding.” I held her hand. “Maybe he didn’t think it was worth mentioning. But I know how it feels to be left out of something you should know.” I advised Rehana that she should not confront him but wait for an opportune moment and bring it up softly. She seemed very upset. To brighten things, I suggested that we all go on a picnic. Abba drove, with Rehana and I giggling in the back. Ammi packed burgers and sandwiches with homemade punch. At the park, we set up mats under a shady tree. We barbecued chicken wings and sweet-sour ribs. Laughter echoed as we played catches with Abba—who surprisingly still runs faster than us! Then we played chicken in the den, just like childhood. We ended with Monopoly and Scrabble—where Rehana cheated so much that when we found her stash of hidden cash under the chattai, we laughed till our stomachs ached. I noticed her eyes scan her phone often. “He hasn’t even texted,” she muttered once. “Did you message him?” I asked gently. “Yes,” she sighed. “He said it’s only been four hours,” she rolled her eyes. “Then he sent a laughing emoji. Said he’ll chat later—he’s out with friends.” I didn’t know what to say. I was texting Ahmad all day. But I tried to be discreet, putting my phone away when she looked over. As the sun set, we returned home. After Maghrib, we sat in the lounge. Ammi told stories of our childhood—how Rehana once shaved off her front hair trying to look like a cartoon character, or how I used to cry if anyone touched my teddy bear. We laughed and laughed. And in that moment, surrounded by the love of my family, my heart felt warm. Even with Ahmad far away, the love around me softened the ache. And as I went to bed that night, I knew one thing for sure—this love, in all its forms, is a garment for my soul *Love Shezana*

Garments For Each Other

5/24/2025, 5:13:52 PM

What kind of marital advice and tips are you looking for - :

Garments For Each Other

5/24/2025, 6:54:27 PM

Would you like advice on Intimacy Issues

Garments For Each Other

6/3/2025, 3:25:34 PM

📖 *Shehzana’s Diary* *Tuesday, 3rd June 2025* *Garments for Each Other* *Dear Diary,* Yesterday felt like a scene from a love story – one of those warm ones, where love, family, and spirituality blend together into something truly beautiful. My heart was fluttering with excitement all day. He was finally coming home. I quickly whispered to Mum (my amazing mother-in-law) to open the door when he arrived and just say I had rushed to the supermarket for something. I wanted to tease him a bit. When the bell rang and the Uber dropped him off, Mum opened the door with her arms wide and tears in her eyes. “Oh my son,” she said, hugging him tightly, “I missed you so much. May Allah always keep you safe, may your Rizq flow in halal ways, may your smile stay, and may your heart always find peace in Allah.” He kissed her forehead and then her hands tenderly, whispering, “I love you, Mum… I missed your voice, and your duas every morning. I love you so much Mum. ” his eyes welled with tears. Then his eyes… they scanned the hallway quickly, like they were searching for something — or someone. Peeking into the sitting room, he seemed a little unsettled. Mum chuckled and said playfully, “Oh, I think you’re looking for Shehzana. I think she may not be here. Maybe, she could've gone to the supermarket or maybe a quick check on her Ammi? ” He looked a bit disappointed, just for a second. “But she doesn't usually… “then he stopped and asked where Dad and Ameera were. “Dad’s at work,” Mum replied, “and Ameera’s at school.” He opened his bag and pulled out a beautiful gift pack. “This is for you and Dad,” he said, handing it to Mum. It was wrapped in soft ivory paper with a gold ribbon. Then another packet: “This is for Ameera,” he added. Finally, he turned toward our room. I had set everything up quietly while he was en route — the room was softly lit with scented vanilla and rose candles, petals scattered on the floor and heart - shaped cushions, and soft Turkish velvet curtains draped on a stand in the corner with strings of beads and fairy light hanging in rows. The bed was dressed in crisp white linen with a gentle blue throw. He opened the door slowly… then paused. His eyes widened. And I stood there, in a flowing turquoise-blue outfit, modest and elegant, my dupatta pinned with a little sparkle at the side, waiting with my heart racing. He stepped in. His face broke into the biggest smile — a mix of surprise, relief, and love. He came forward and embraced me so warmly, so completely. “I thought you had gone out,” he whispered. “I was actually irritated… like, how could she not be home when I told her I was coming?” Then he looked around the room. “But now I see… this was your plan all along. You always make ordinary moments feel magical.” Tears trickled from my eyes. “I missed you… every night, every morning, every moment… ” I said softly. "I'm back for you..." he said. The he cupped my face and gave me an."I know... I was going through the same..." type of smile. “My project — it was a success. The road design has been approved. I’ve got the offer. I begin officially in two weeks,” he said with confidence . Then he dropped a large luxury shopping bag onto the bed. “This… is for you.” Inside: – A stunning emerald green Elie Saab maxi dress with delicate beadwork – A set of Xerjoff Xerjoff Amber Star & Star Musk – A pair of nude Jimmy Choo heels – A Turkish silk hijab in rose gold – And a delicate gold bracelet set with pearls I gasped. “Why so much? These are… expensive.” He smiled, pulled me close and whispered, “Not more than you. You’re worth it, and more.” Today, being the 6th of Dhul-Hijjah, feels special. I've made a little checklist to keep me spiritually aligned this sacred month — morning azhkaar, lots of istighfaar, reading Surah Fajr daily, and making heartfelt duas every night. Now that he’s back, I’m excited to do some of these together. There’s a different barakah when husband and wife turn to Allah together… truly, garments for each other — in dunya and deen. Later in the afternoon, Rehana called. She reminded me to ask Mum if she could perhaps speak to her mother-in-law about being a little kinder. While we were chopping veggies for dinner, I took the moment. “Mum…” “Jee beta? I’ve been noticing you seem a little… disturbed lately. Is everything okay?” I looked up, sighed gently. “I’m fine, Ammi. “ I hesitated a bit, then shared, “Actually, Rehana asked if you could have a light word with her mother-in-law. Just… remind her to be a little softer with her.You know how aunty wants her to be in the kitchen most of the time and do all the household chores.. Like… I”I mean be a bit gentle on her.. “ Mum laughed, “Hey girlie, you want me beaten up?” Then her smile faded gently. “You know… Rehana’s mother-in-law has been through a lot. Sometimes life hardens people, but it doesn’t mean they don’t have a good heart. I’ll speak to her… but in a very normal way. No one will know anyone complained.” A while later, Rehana called again. “He agreed,” she whispered excitedly. Her husband had cancelled the trip with his friends and promised to stay home during the first ten days of Dhul-Hijjah. She’d made him understand about the importance and sanctity of these days — and they even agreed that going forward, wherever he goes, she goes too. Alhamdulillah for small victories. Ameera also made me smile today. She told me she’s invited her friends for a BBQ the day after Eid. “Shezana apa, my friends were all excited when I invited them the day after Eid,” she said, “I thought they wouldn't want to come to my house. “ I hugged her and told her how proud I was — she’s making small, wise choices on her own. We sat together and drew out our plan for her friend's day. We wrote the menu and chose the games and activities. As this sacred month unfolds, my heart aches with longing — thinking of the Hujjaj, walking where Ibrahim عليه السلام walked, circling the Ka’bah, drinking Zamzam. Every moment I wonder… “Where are they now? Are they in sujood, crying for us? Are they near the Maqame Ibrahim raising their hands in duas? Are they preparing for Mina now? ” Ya Allah… write us among them one day. Let our hearts always stay close to the sacred. With love, longing, and gratitude, ~ *Shehzana* 🤍

Garments For Each Other

6/2/2025, 5:02:30 AM

*Shezana’s Diary* *Mon 2nd June 2025* *Garments For Each Other* Dear Diary, Ya Allah… My heart is fluttering just thinking about it—he’s coming home today. After a whole week without him, the silence in this house has grown too loud, the nights too cold, and every little moment reminded me of him. Even my tea didn’t taste right. But alhamdulillah, even in his busyness, he kept messaging whenever he could. Just a simple “Thinking of you,” or a heart emoji between meetings, sometimes a picture of himself waiting for one of the directors in an office, with the caption “counting the days till I’m back where my heart is.” The road-building project he flew out for is massive—he explained it to me when he video called with that spark in his eyes, his passion so alive. I’m so proud of him. But it doesn’t make the waiting easier. I miss his voice reciting Qur’an before Fajr, I miss his sleepy smile every morning , I miss his warmth beside me at night. This week, while I’ve been trying to hold myself together, Rehana has been pouring her heart out too. She’s called almost every day. Yesterday she cried a little. “He always has time for his friends. Dinners, cricket matches, late-night braii, but when I want to talk or just sit with him, he’s suddenly ‘tired.’” She paused, and then whispered, “And his mum keeps expecting me to cook and be in the kitchen at her beck and call. If I even say I want to go out or rest, she acts like I’m selfish.” I listened, then said gently, “Rehana, your feelings are valid. But sometimes we have to communicate with calmness and firmness. Maybe try saying, ‘Ammi, I love serving you, but I also need some time for myself to rest or grow. Can we work something out?’” She sighed, “ Shezi, you don't understand!! I can't talk to her. She's not approachable. She doesn't listen. Someone needs to talk to her. She just doesn’t get it.” I hugged the phone and told her, “You be that someone, but with kindness. Lead her gently for now. * I whispered “ Shezi, come and stay here one day to understand what I am saying… I have no time for myself… plus I get so tired and it takes ages to get rid of the kitchen smell. * “Listen carefully Rehana, whatever happens please don't tell Ammi anything. Be patient, pray astaghfaar, ask Allah to guide you through this. And yes maybe I can ask mum to talk to her. She gets along well with your mother in law.” “Jazakillah Shezi, please do. “ I gently reminded Rehana, not to worry our mother with petty problems. I personally feel that married girls should be mindful not to carry every small issue or disagreement with their mother-in-law to their own mothers. While it's natural to seek comfort and support from one’s mother, constantly sharing minor frustrations can unintentionally create negativity, resentment, or distance between families. Often, what feels upsetting in the moment may resolve with patience, understanding, and time. But once shared, those impressions can leave lasting effects on hearts. It's wiser to handle small matters with maturity, dua, and open communication within the marital home, preserving love and respect on both sides and protecting the peace between two families who ultimately want the best for their children. As if all the women in my life have chosen this week to be extra vulnerable, Zahra stopped by in the afternoon. She was quiet, her eyes distant. “I feel so lonely, Shezana. This separation… I message him, I try to keep some kind of connection alive, but he just replies with things like, ‘Let’s keep some space for clarity. It’s better this way.’ What kind of clarity is found in silence?” I reached for her hand, held it firmly. “Sometimes people need space to hear their own hearts, Zahra. And maybe Allah is giving you both this time to remember Him. You’re not alone—you have me, and more importantly, you have your Rabb. He hears every unsent message, every tear.” She rested her head on my shoulder and we just sat in silence. That was all she needed today—someone to hold space for her pain. On a lighter note, Ammi has finally started the Qur’an and Tajweed class, I enrolled her for and she’s glowing like the moon in Ramadan. She says, “Beta, I feel like I’ve come back to life. I needed this more than I realized.” Her heart seems lighter, her tongue always murmuring verses now. It’s beautiful. And then Ameera ,my cute sister in law came in this evening, a bit nervous, holding her phone. She sat on the corner of the bed and said, “Shezana apa you know my friends… UmUmm they are always talking about boys. They are like trying to involve me in their conversations. I try to tell them what's right and what is not… BuBut not too much. See I don't want to lose my friends. Two of them already have boyfriends. “ I smiled and replied, “Hey sis, I know it can feel weird when all your friends are into boys and talking about having boyfriends. But just remember—you don’t have to follow what everyone else is doing. In our Deen, you’re super valuable, and your heart is something special, not something to just hand over to anyone. Focus on yourself, your goals, and your connection with Allah. The right person will come at the right time—in the right way. Don’t rush it. You’re worth way more than just being someone’s “temporary” girl.” “but the pressure Shezana apa, if I dont be like them i might lose them. “ She said twitching her nose. “Hey love 💛 I get you. You wanna stay close to your friends, fit in, not be the “odd one out,” right? Especially when they're always talking about stuff like boys and you’re like… “umm not really my vibe but okay 😅... First things first—you don’t have to become someone you’re not, just to be accepted. I know that sounds cliché but it’s real. If you have to hide your values or feel fake to keep people around… then maybe they’re not your people, OK Ameera? Or at least, not all the way your people." Ameera nodded. I went on to explaining more. " You can chill with them, joke around, be part of the convo without giving in to stuff that makes you uncomfortable or messes with your Deen. Like if they’re going on about boys, you don’t necessarily need to drop a loud “astaghfirullah” but you also don’t need to dive into the convo pretending you’re into it. Say something light like “you guys are wild” and steer the chat somewhere else. Change the topic, ok? It’s all about balance. And if you ever feel like you're losing yourself just to keep them? Step back. Not to cut them off, but to check in with you. Your deen, your peace, your heart—they matter. The right friends will love you for your piety, not in spite of it. You bring a calmness, a goodness, a vibe they probably need more than they realise. So don’t dim your light,my sis. Let it shine—softly, honestly, confidently. You’re not alone, and you’re not boring. You’re just different—in the best way.. Hold your head high. Allah’s got you. 🤍” I gave her a tight hug. “ I feel so good Shezana apa. So soo confident about not compromising my Deen. Please make dua this confidence lasts till I meet them” she said “You should come and sit with me in your free time. In fact invite your friends over for a fun barbecue… or even to meet your gorgeous bhabhi, they can come for chocolates… “ “that sounds so cool” “ Don’t let pressure or excitement ever cloud your decision. Let deen lead.” She nodded slowly, grateful. Alhamdulillah, today was full. Full of emotions, full of heart-conversations, full of reminders that we’re all just seeking love, peace, connection—in different forms. And today, I get mine back. I stood by the closet, fingers brushing against the hangers, heart fluttering just a little. He was coming home today. After days apart, the thought of seeing his face again, that gentle smile that always made everything feel okay—it made me pause. Should I wear the blue one he always says brings out my eyes? Or the soft peach he once called "sunset on you"? I laughed quietly at the memory, a warmth rising in my chest. It's funny how after all this time, it feels he's just here. I want to look nice—not because I have to, but because I want to. Because he’s mine, and I’m his. And today, we get to fall in love all over again. Ok, so decided, I’m going to put on his favourite blue hijab, spray a little of the perfume he gifted me , and wait by the door—just like in those early early days. Because love doesn’t get old. It deepens. It becomes home. *~ Love Shezana*

Garments For Each Other

5/30/2025, 4:46:54 PM

*When Love Meets Indifference : The Hidden Consequences of Male Impotence on Marriage* *Garments for Each Other ©* *The Grand Wedding That Led to Quiet Nights* Shakir and Abeda’s marriage began like a dream. Both were good looking , educated, and admired by everyone. Their wedding was lavish, their match praised by family and friends alike. But behind the shimmering curtains of “wow”, a silent storm was brewing. In the initial days of their marriage, Abeda noticed Shakir avoided intimacy. She assumed he was shy or practicing self-control. Later, she noticed he avoided her when she was alone. He stopped entering the bedroom in the day time. She thought he is probably getting used to the new life. But weeks passed, and nothing changed. One day when the whole family was out on an outing, Shakir pointed towards a sculpture of a woman and said something immodest whilst pointing towards it to his cousin's wife, who laughed loudly. Abeda found this very disgusting. Like a man who practices self control with his wife, why would he act so indecent in front of other women? What was he trying to prove? Shakir began immersing himself in work, leaving home before dawn and returning past midnight. Their emotional and physical connection never deepened. They were married, but Abeda was alone. When Abeda gently tried to initiate intimacy, Shakir pushed her away. And when she attempted to address the growing distance and her unfulfilled desires, he initially tried to assure her that a marriage can be successful and fulfilling without any physical intimacy. Abeda felt that was not true. She gave him some time before iniating physical intimacy again but this time he harshly pushed her from him and turned the blame onto her. “You have a problem, not me. I feel repulsed by your odour ” “You need medical help. I’ll take you to a doctor—and a moulana. Something’s wrong with you.” “Shakir, which problem and which odour? You haven't touched me since we got married! I feel so down… so unworthy.Am I not attractive? “ “You’re clearly going bezerk... That’s what’s affecting us.” “No, Shakir!! “Abeda explained. “ I need you… Shakir. We can make it work” “Have you seen the way you dress? You are a put off! Every thing about you puts me off!! *Shakir exclaimed and barged out. But Abeda wasn’t going bezerk. She was confused, hurt, and emotionally starved. What began as longing turned into sorrow and eventually humiliation. She was a loving wife, ready to nurture their bond. But she was constantly made to feel that she was flawed, demanding, and broken. All while the real issue—Shakir’s erectile dysfunction—remained buried beneath layers of ego and denial. *The Turning Point: Lies and the Final Blow* When the emotional tension became too heavy to bear, a mutual family meeting was arranged. Abeda entered the meeting with hope—that things could finally be brought into the open and healing could begin. But what she heard shattered her. Shakir, instead of telling the truth, fabricated a story to his parents and relatives. He claimed: “I can no longer cope. She’s too demanding.” “She insults me, she’s never satisfied.” “She’s made this marriage unbearable. I’m done with her.” “Her parents betrayed us, they didn't tell us their daughter was emotionally dysregulated . I can't deal with this anymore!! “ Abeda sat there, speechless, blindsided by betrayal. The man who had been emotionally distant now painted her as the villain. His dishonesty turned the tide of sympathy and understanding away from her. What followed was an eruption of hurtful accusations, yelling, and deep pain. The marriage—once filled with promise—ended in bitterness. A marriage that could have thrived, a marriage that had a chance, was destroyed not by the problem itself, but by the refusal to face it. *The Unspoken Pain of Erectile Dysfunction in Marriage* Erectile dysfunction (ED) is more common than people think, especially with rising stress, lifestyle changes, and health conditions. Yet, it remains a *taboo topic*—shrouded in shame, secrecy, and silence. In the modern times Erectile Dysfunction and impotency both are treatable. *How Men Often React:* ▪️Denial and secrecy ▪️Blaming their wife to avoid shame ▪️Emotional detachment ▪️Overcompensation through busyness or anger ▪️Fear of being judged as “less manly” ▪️Flirting with other women to prove themselves *Impact on Women:* ▪️Emotional confusion and low self-worth ▪️Unmet physical and emotional needs ▪️Guilt and shame without cause ▪️Feeling unloved and gaslit ▪️Humiliation in front of family or community ▪️Feeling rejected *Path to Healing:* Medical, Psychological & Islamic Guidance: 1. *Medical Solutions:* Seek professional help: ED is often caused by physical issues like diabetes, hypertension, or hormonal imbalance. Acknowledge the problem and seek professional help. . *Medication: There are certain FDA-approved* treatments which can be used under professional and medical guidance. These have been used by many men who were eager to save their marriages and have saved them. *Therapies and interventions*: Including counseling, pelvic exercises, and treatment of underlying medical conditions can also be sought. . 2. *Psychological Support*: *Therapy:* Sometimes it takes more than just medicat treatment. Those with impotency issues or ED need thorough therapy where the shame, past trauma, or performance anxiety is addressed and coping skills are taught. Where the walls of denial are brought down and facing the issue is taught. *Marriage counseling:* The couple might both need counseling and a safe space can be created where open discussion and emotional reconnection is built. Where the husband is encouraged to build his confidence and the wife is taught to be supportive and patient. *Masculinity reframed*: Men with these medical conditions can be taught to reframe their masculinity and taught that true strength lies in vulnerability, honesty, and empathy, not ego and denial. 3. *Seek treatment:* The Prophet ﷺ said, “Allah has not sent down a disease except that He has also sent down its cure.” (Bukhari) There are many herbs and fruits known to increase potency in men when taken after consultation with a professional. Pomegranate consumption as well as fresh and dry figs also improve the male strength required. *Intimacy is a right*: Islamically, both spouses have a right to marital intimacy and emotional closeness. *Avoid oppression* (zulm): Blaming or emotionally abusing one’s spouse is sinful. Being unkind and accusing the wife to hide one's underlying condition is oppression. *Honesty is half of healing*: Lying to family and defaming one’s spouse to protect ego is deeply unethical and harmful. Honesty is the road to healing and happiness. “Speak the truth, even if it is bitter.” – Prophet Muhammad ﷺ A Closing Reminder to Men: *Drop the Ego,* Pick Up the Responsibility Erectile dysfunction is not your fault. But refusing to deal with it, *blaming your wife, lying to your parents, and allowing a marriage to collapse over pride*—that is your responsibility. *Be brave*. *Acknowledge*. *Seek help*. *Heal*. To the women: If you are in Abeda’s shoes—know this: you are not weak, broken, or depressed. You were just unloved and unacknowledged, and that pain is real. Even whilst going through this difficult time choose to be kind and patient. *Marriages don’t break from problems—they break from silence. They break due to not acknowledging the problem. * Let us return to the Prophetic model of marriage: where *honesty*, *compassion*, and *healing* are the foundations—not ego and escape. “And We made between them love and mercy...” (Surah Ar-Rum: 21) *Choose mercy. Choose truth. Choose healing.* Because a marriage that could thrive, still can—if we dare to face the truth. *Garments for Each Other ©*

Garments For Each Other

5/27/2025, 5:05:42 PM

*Advice for Women with Frigidity Issues* *Garments for Each Other ©* *Tuesday, May 27th 2025* *The Silent Distance* Nadia had been married to Yusuf for two years. Their Nikaah had been beautiful, simple, and filled with barakah. They were compatible in so many ways—Deen-wise, values, and life goals. But there was one silent gap that continued to widen between them: Nadia’s deep discomfort and aversion to physical intimacy. From the very beginning, Nadia would feel tense, anxious, and withdrawn whenever Yusuf initiated closeness. She would make excuses—feeling tired, having a headache, or just not being in the mood. Yusuf, though gentle and respectful, began to feel unwanted. He didn’t understand what was wrong, and Nadia herself didn’t know how to explain it. She felt broken inside, ashamed, and confused. *Why couldn’t she desire the man she loved?* As the months passed, their emotional connection began to erode. Yusuf stopped trying, fearing rejection. He grew distant, spending more time at work or with friends. Nadia noticed the shift, but instead of confronting it, she buried herself in housework and religious duties, hoping her feelings would change with time. They didn’t. What do you think happened? Many women are frigid, but they shy away from seeking counseling and treatment. The first thing that happens in such cases is there is *emotional disconnect* between the spouses. Yusuf and Nadia began to live more like roommates than spouses. Conversations become limited to logistics, and shared laughter faded away. Nadia avoided him more and more, which made Yusuf feel rejected. The next thing that happened is that they started having *self esteem issues*. Yusuf began to doubt himself, wondering if he was unattractive or unworthy. Nadia, on the other hand, felt like a failure as a wife. The *unmet needs* of the couple drove both them towards frustratioin. : Both had emotional and physical needs that remained unfulfilled, leading to frustration, resentment, and sadness. Nadia felt shame, guilt and inadequacy whilst Yusuf felt anger and pain. Furthermore, the lack of intimacy— which is meant to be a source of love and mercy in marriage—caused both partners to feel *spiritually incomplete* Though Yusuf never mentioned it to Nadia, but the loneliness opened the door to temptations. He quietly began to consider other options or even separation. *Can Yusuf and Nadia be helped? Does this marriage have to end? NO,So What can be done?* 1. *Understand It’s a Real Condition:* Frigidity or Female Sexual Interest/Arousal Disorder (FSIAD) is a recognized condition. It may be caused by trauma, anxiety, hormonal imbalances, psychological distress, past abuse, or negative beliefs about intimacy. Acknowledging the problem is the first step. 2. *Seek Help: women with frigidity need help.* Medical: Consult a gynecologist or endocrinologist to rule out hormonal or physiological causes. Some experts prescribe herbs and aphrodisiac foods to help with the frigidity. Certain Ayurvedic herbs help bring the desire in females. Spices like cinnamon and Gokshura are also helpful when taken in consultation with a herbal doctor. *Few Home Remedies for frigidity* : *Almonds*: Almonds are proven to be effective too Seven almonds according to some sages should be soaked in water overnight. The skin should be removed in the morning and it can be blended with milk like a paste or smoothie and mixed with a pinch of saffron and taken every morning . *Dates:* Dates are also an effective remedy for frigidity. Dates increase endurance and strength. Especially Ajwa dates can cure any other underlying factors too. *Drumsticks*: A soup prepared from drumstick flowers or leaves or even drumsticks in milk can help for frigidity. *Therapy*: A female Islamic therapist or psychologist can help explore underlying fears or past trauma. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) is often effective. A step by step guide can be made to help overcome her aversion and fears. *Education:* Learn about intimacy from Islamic and professional sources to counter negative beliefs . 3. *Open Communication:* Talk to your husband with honesty and vulnerability. Let him know it’s not about him, and that you're working on healing. This builds trust and emotional safety. It helps if the husband understands your aversion as a medical or psychological condition and not as something personal. . 4. *Reconnect Emotionally First:* Emotional connection precedes physical desire for many women. Focus on spending quality time, gentle touch, and small moments of affection without pressure. 5. *Take It Slow*: Start with non-sexual intimacy—holding hands, hugs, kind words. Slowly work toward greater comfort without rushing. *Allah Ta’āla says*-: “And among His signs is that He created for you from yourselves mates that you may find tranquility in them, and He placed between you affection and mercy. Indeed in that are signs for a people who reflect.” (Surah Ar-Rum 30:21) This verse reminds us that marriage is meant to be a source of sukoon (tranquility), mawaddah (love), and rahmah (mercy). Avoiding intimacy may harm thisbalance. The Prophet (sallal lahu alaihi wasallam ) said: “The most perfect of believers in faith are those best in character—and the best of you are those who are best to their wives.” (Tirmidhi Sh) Husbands ought to be patient, kind, and emotionally attuned. A wife struggling with frigidity deserves support, not shame or pressure. Women should fulfil their husband's needs even with lack of or in the absence of desire. Another Hadith: “When a husband calls his wife to bed and she refuses and he spends the night angry, the angels curse her until morning.” (Bukhari Sh) While this Hadith emphasizes the seriousness of rejecting intimacy, it also implies that ongoing refusal can affect the harmony of marriage. It’s essential to seek help instead of avoiding the problem, Scholars agree that if a woman has a valid psychological or medical issue, she is not blameworthy—but she must still strive for healing. *Science-Based Advice*: *Mindfulness and Relaxation*: Practicing deep breathing, mindfulness, and progressive muscle relaxation can reduce anxiety that maybe linked to intimacy. *Pelvic Floor Exercises (Kegels)*: These strengthen the pelvic floor muscles. *Healthy Lifestyle*: Sleep, nutrition, and exercise improve overall hormonal balance and emotional well-being. To any sister facing frigidity issues: You are not alone. Your struggle is real and valid. Islam is a religion of compassion and healing. *Seek help*, communicate, and make dua. Healing is a journey—and with Allah’s mercy, love can be restored, hearts can reconnect, and tranquility can be found once again. *“Indeed, with hardship comes ease.”* (Surah Ash-Sharh 94:6) *Garments for Each Other ©*