the summer i met my flaws

on learning to be gentle with the parts of myself i dislike (+ a lil catch up) ♡

salam/hi everyone!!! i’ve missed you all. it’s been a little while since my last post, so for this first one back, i just wanted to catch up, share a bit about my summer, and give you an insight into what i’ve been learning and feeling. i hope you enjoy :)

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summer has been hard, to say the least. i don’t even know what word could be used to fully capture it. it wasn’t necessarily stressful, not in the sense where every muscle in your body feels tense and you live off adrenaline. it wasn’t exactly depressing either, although i would be lying if i said there weren’t days when the weight of life sat on my chest in a way i was unable to shake. if i had to choose a word, i would say hollow. not empty, because empty feels like nothingness, a complete absence. this was different. this was the kind of hollow where you’re still living, still laughing at family dinners, still going on holidays, but inside something doesn’t feel quite right. like your soul is knocking on the walls of your body, asking for something more.

part of that hollowness came from leaving behind the life i built at uni. when i’m there, i have structure. i have things woven into my everyday. my friends are there, i have responsibilities that keep me moving, and deadlines that remind me that my time matters. even the independence of managing myself, from cooking to budgeting to waking up knowing i am accountable to me, gives me a rhythm. it grounds me, even when it overwhelms me.

coming home disrupted that rhythm. and it is not that i don’t love being at home, because i do. i missed my family deeply. there’s something so comforting about returning to familiar walls, familiar smells, and being taken care of again. but with that comfort came a sense of discomfort. being at home pulled me back into older versions of myself. versions i have outgrown. suddenly i was reminded of who i used to be before uni, and i almost felt myself shrinking into her again, even though i knew i had grown past her. that tension between who i am now and who i used to be made the days feel strange, almost disjointed.

my days became repetitive in a way that initially frustrated me. waking up, coming downstairs, eating, praying, spending time with family, sleeping. i would wait for night to come just so the cycle could start again. at first, it felt stifling. i missed uni because there, i could live on my own accord. the structure, the responsibilities, the freedom to chart my day and move at my own pace gave me energy and a sense of purpose. at home, life felt slower, almost suspended, and i resented it. yet, over time, i began to notice something subtle. the slow rhythm was not a punishment. it was a gift. it forced me to exist without constant external stimulation. it allowed me to see the little details, to notice moments with family, to reflect on my day in a way that my busy uni life rarely permitted.

this awareness grew stronger when i recognised how much my imaan shifts depending on the environments i place myself in. at uni, my structure naturally pushes me to carve out moments with Allah, to fit Him into the rhythm of my day. at home, when that structure fell apart, i had to learn to seek Him in the silence. and that wasn’t easy. it’s one thing to turn to Allah when you’re moving and achieving, but another entirely to seek Him when you feel like you are floating without direction.

so i sat with the hollowness. i stopped trying to fill it with distractions, because deep down i knew it was never about the surface level things. it was space. Allah was creating space within me. space to reflect, space to notice myself, space to come face to face with the parts of myself i had been ignoring. and maybe that’s the lesson i will carry forward from this summer: sometimes hollowness is not about lack. sometimes Allah is making room inside us, calling us to slow down, to notice, to return to Him in ways we might not if life were constantly pulling us forward.

another part of what made this summer feel hollow was my relationship with writing. more specifically, with substack. when i first started, it felt like the safest corner of the internet, a space where words could be said without judgment. but over time, the illusion of safety cracked. i won’t go into specifics, because the details no longer matter, but there was a moment when the energy around the platform felt heavy and unpredictable. what used to feel like a home for my writing suddenly felt so complicated, like i constantly had eyes on me and i couldn’t express myself freely anymore.

after that, my love for writing dimmed. i still journaled privately, still scribbled reflections when they came, but publishing on this platform just didn’t feel right. i didn’t feel like showing up in the same way, so i didn’t. instead, i poured my energy into family, into healing, into learning about myself and my relationship with Allah. at first, i felt guilty for stepping back. i worried about disappearing, losing momentum, or being forgotten (as silly as it may sound). but over time, that guilt changed into understanding. i needed the break. i needed to step back to see things more clearly.

and one of the biggest lessons i learnt about myself over the summer was that i can be impulsive. sometimes when i feel deeply, i act quickly, convinced in the moment that i’m doing the right thing. but looking back, i can see that not every impulse leads to wisdom. this habit appeared in several situations over the summer, and facing it was uncomfortable but necessary. growth often comes in discomfort, and for me, this summer was about recognising the difference between standing up for myself and reacting too quickly.

this awareness gave me space to grow. i’ve started to learn that pausing before acting does not make me weaker. in fact, it makes me stronger. it gives me time to align my intentions with Allah, to ask myself whether my actions will bring me closer to Him or further away. that realisation, more than anything, is what i want to carry forward into the new season of life.

and then there was tenerife, which sounds almost funny when i say it aloud. if you had asked me where i thought i would reconnect with awe and clarity, a tourist island known for its clubbing and party culture probably wouldn’t have made the list. yet somehow, through a mix of last-minute planning and careful research, we ended up there.

before the flight, i carried a lot of nerves with me. i prayed that our journey would be smooth, that we would feel safe, and that the space we entered would allow us to just be. and subhanallah, it did. our airbnb was located in an extremely quiet and family-friendly area, surrounded by beauty. halal options were nearby, though we mostly stuck to vegetarian meals (just to be safe!). the environment allowed me to slow down even further, to notice details i usually rush past: sunlight spilling across streets in the morning, the sound of waves, the laughter of my family at dinner.

but the moment that shifted something deeper inside me was something that i’ve been wanting to do ever since i was a little girl: stargazing. it might sound small, but knowing that i was at the third best place in the world for stargazing, with the clearest and detailed view of Allah’s creation above me, really made me feel as though Allah had answered a dua i forgot i made years ago.

sitting under the night sky that belongs equally to everyone, stars spread wide above me, i felt something i was waiting to feel all summer. i had seen stars before, of course, but not like that. not a sky so clear that it felt like the universe was opening itself up for me. and in that moment, all i could think about was Allah’s perfection. how He created something so breathtakingly infinite, and how tiny i felt beneath it. that awe felt like a balm to the hollowness i had carried for weeks.

i realised that growth does not only happen in places we label “holy” or “productive.” sometimes Allah teaches us through the ordinary, the unexpected, the spaces where we feel most present and human. this trip reminded me that i can find Him anywhere. in nature, in family, in reflection. sometimes stepping out of routine, away from the pressures of “being productive,” allows the soul to breathe, to notice itself, and to heal.

coming back from tenerife, i noticed a subtle but undeniable change in myself. i felt steadier, more aligned with the awareness i had cultivated during the slow days at home. i felt ready to step back into the rhythm of uni, not as someone chasing control over everything, but as someone carrying lessons from stillness, lessons about self-love, impulse, and awareness.

this included writing. the pause from substack, though frustrating at times, had been necessary. it gave me the space to reflect on my own patterns, to nurture my growth, and to return with intention rather than obligation. absence, it turns out, can be a form of presence. by stepping away, i allowed myself to come back with clarity, honesty, and the courage to write from authenticity rather than performance.

this pause also gave me the space to face parts of myself i had been avoiding. rather than hating the traits i disliked or shaming myself for mistakes, i approached them with curiosity. i asked why certain impulses or reactions appeared, what need was under the surface, and how i could respond with gentleness rather than judgment. that approach turned self-examination into self-love, and growth into an act of compassion.

i also realised that self-love is more complicated than the affirmations we see online. sometimes self-love means sitting with your flaws without judgment. sometimes it means failing, making mistakes, and then asking why instead of how. unlearning habits, noticing patterns, and giving yourself grace for being human can all be acts of profound self-love. this summer, those lessons were central. i faced parts of myself i had ignored, nurtured them, and found a form of healing i had never experienced before.

and now, as i prepare to return to uni, i feel like i’m carrying all of these lessons with me. the rhythm and structure i love about university life will return, but i will move forward with more awareness, patience, and compassion for myself. i’m ready to write again, not because i feel pressured, but because i have something to say, and i feel confident that my reflections are worth sharing. i am ready to embrace growth that is steady and deliberate.

this summer has been hard, but instructive. it has been a season of hollowness that revealed fullness, of stillness that revealed movement, of reflection that revealed growth. and if i have learnt anything, it is this: sometimes growth is sitting with your own discomfort, noticing the habits you do not like about yourself, and choosing to respond with awareness instead of reaction. sometimes growth is lying under the stars in a foreign place and feeling small in a way that reminds you of Allah. sometimes growth is stepping away from something you love so that you can love it more deeply when you return.

and that’s where i am now. ready to return, ready to create, ready to write from a place of honesty. ready to let the lessons of this summer shape not just the words i put on the page, but the way i move through life, the way i interact with others, and the way i continue my journey with Allah. life isn’t always about doing more or achieving more. sometimes it is about noticing yourself, noticing Allah, noticing the subtle currents that shape your heart and your choices. healing, reflection, and self-love are not linear journeys, but intricate tapestries of small lessons woven together by patience and awareness.

and so i move forward into the new academic year carrying the clarity of this summer. carrying lessons about self-love that involve curiosity, reflection, and gentleness. carrying the reminder that even in hollowness, there is space for growth, for connection, and for a deeper understanding of myself and Allah. carrying the excitement of knowing that after a season of pause, reflection, and introspection, i am ready to continue stronger, wiser, and more compassionate than before.

summer has been hard, to say the least, but it has also been everything i needed it to be, even if i did not know it at the time.

love, imaan x

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postcards from tenerife ♡