Just reading these increases my... uh... what's that word... means something like faith. But it feels nice.
I do have a revert story but it's not very interesting to an outsider. But I'm going to post it anyway because it helps me:
A little background on me. I was born into an unstable family. They weren't bad people but the relations were frayed. They were loving but very negative most of the time, looking on the cloudier side of life, glass was always half empty to them, that kind of thing. My parents were teenagers and split up when I was three. Mum worked a lot after we moved out of my grandparents' house. Being unable to see my dad I can remember broke my heart, I wailed and sobbed for a long time for him. But I was that quiet, non-aggressive type who eventually just gave in to whatever happened, I developed coping mechanisms such as immersion in fantasy, drawing animals, masturbation (yes, as early as five years old) and talking to myself a lot. I was also a very sensitive child in a rough neighbourhood and didn't make any real friends. I also love(d) animals and cried when someone squished a bug.
I never at any point had any concept of God until primary school when a very vague version of Christianity was forced upon is. We were expected to pray and sing hymns. I did it, but my heart wasn't into it. I couldn't grasp what or who this "God" was so I just decided it was another fantasy, one I didn't take any notion to. At that age dragons and dinosaurs were far more interesting to me. That and drawing. By this stage drawing animals was the only real skill I had and it's one I totally focused all my attention on. Fictional worlds were my home, I didn't live in the real world.
Teenage years were more troublesome. Over my early school years I had developed behavioural problems and couldn't adjust to socialising with children my own age. I just did and said a lot of strange things, things that seemed strange to everyone else but perfectly normal to me. So when I entered high school I was in for a wee bit of a shock. Needless to say, in a western public school in a low-income area in a school that's renowned for being really bad, I did not have friends. I could have had friends if I had adjusted, but I couldn't adjust no matter how hard I tried. I was too sensitive and unwilling to hurt people, and in that school being a jerk was the only way to score friends. So I started just being scary. I decided if I wasn't going to have friends I at least wanted to prevent people from picking on me. So I started dressing scary and acting scary and I became very much a typical teenage brat. I liked baggy jeans and baggy tops and lots and lots of baggy things. People steered away from me in the corridors, but I still got picked on. I tried putting on this tough-guy(girl) façade but it didn't work too well. Still, I had a lot of dark twisted thoughts and said some really frightening things that still scare me to this day. I cursed God a lot, I cursed life, I cursed everything good. I was so, so ungrateful. And at the same time still very much (or even more so) out of touch with reality as I was before entering school.
I was very angry at the western system because I couldn't accept that it was the be-all and end-all of life like I was taught it was. My family were a very typical atheist western family and I hated the fact that I just didn't fit in. I had a lot of moral values back then that I didn't share with my family. I frequently judged them (I know I shouldn't have) by what they watched on TV, the way they talked to one another and the way they were much like big children that never grew up (I still think this in some ways, but a lot has changed and they're different now). Same goes for the teachers. I couldn't put my finger on what was wrong with the system, it just was wrong to me. It lacked morals, lacked humanity, lacked something that felt
real. So, as ever, I was further immersed in fantasy but for the first time I was beginning to want to see beyond fantasy and see the reality. I became angry and frustrated that I couldn't see the reality because I didn't know where to look.
There was this one friend I had that didn't abandon me even though my other so-called friends did. After high school we stayed in touch and became the closest friends. What drew me to this person was that he was patient and kind, didn't judge me, gentle, and seemed to think on a much deeper level than most of the other kids. I was much like that too, thinking on much deeper levels and always wondering how others could get on with their lives without touching upon these depths, the tough questions nobody wants to ask. Yeah, that's right, I was a pseudo-philosophical pot-smoking brat after high school, lol. Though, like my friend, I would rather agonize over questions regarding life and reality than sleep easy. That's just the way my brain worked. I guess I kind of knew I was missing something important and there was this urgency to find it...
I was still pretty messed up. I think probably because I was still very socially immature despite my age! I was like an eight-year-old trapped in a seventeen-year-old's body, except I felt I had destroyed my own innocence with drugs and sex and alcohol. So immature, so ungrateful, and so naive.
After getting my thoughts together I decided to follow my friend and explore college courses and try and "make something of myself" as the saying goes. Despite my failure in high school I was still orientated for academia and (not to brag) quite intelligent, teachers had always said how intelligent I was, even ones who hated my guts. So I felt it was my only option. By this point I was still drawing lots and lots but figured "what good am I going to do for the world by drawing animals?" (yeah I was ambitious), and felt going back to school was my only real option. Then my friend told me he was a muslim. I didn't really care to be honest, he was still my best friend, but I really, really didn't care. So I was just like "... okay. So?" He was just relieved that I didn't take it badly so it was all good.
Over time Islam became a topic of conversation with increasing frequency. But rather than moving towards it I was moving away from it, but at the same time I was drawing to it... if that makes any sense? Like something inside me was fighting against it. I was at the stage where I was becoming quite set in what I believed, no God, only nature and only survival of the fittest. I guess that's why my self confidence was so low, I didn't see myself as very "fit". Then about a year or so ago I joined an internet community that was generally about spirituality but it was quite corrupt too. Why? I was desperate. I felt like I was going mad. I needed guidance and I wasn't finding any anywhere. Little voices in my head told me that this CANNOT be all there is to reality. It just COULDN'T BE. I started to remember my childhood again and how I felt and little things were clicking into place. I quit the forum because it was really dodgy and there was some really dark stuff on it, but it gave me an initial boost. It made me feel more receptive to what my best friend said, I began to feel there really was something special to this "Islam". Nothing had made any sense in my whole life but Islam... it made sense. And it was something I could wholeheartedly agree with without ifs or buts. Yet still I denied Allah (subhana wa ta'ala, His mercy is limitless)! By this point I was just getting plain foolish about my rejection...
So recently we visited another city. While we were there we stayed in a mostly ethnic minority area, largely of muslims and hindus (I'd still say muslim dominant). It was like being on a whole other planet. We met some very special brothers and sisters there. They changed my outlook forever. I will never forget the generosity and kindness that these people had for complete strangers such as ourselves! Some of them taking us into their home even. I won't forget the sheer amount of faith that seemed to just radiate off of them like a light. I can't really describe it in any words. It makes me cry just to think about it... trying to avoid crying so close to bed time, I have to sleep after typing this. I read a lot of pamphlets, booklets and books on Islam on the train ride and just after getting home.
Needless to say I took my shahada when I got back home. I couldn't live in denial any longer because I felt that the teachings of Islam and the followers of Islam were more real than anything or anyone I had ever come across. The whole thing was perfection to me, and thus could only have been brought down by a perfect being. Who is more perfect than Allah? Nobody.
(yay I didn't cry this time)
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