Faith and Mental Illness…. My journey

Introduction

“And We will surely test you with something of fear and hunger and a loss of wealth and lives and fruits, but give glad tidings to the patient.”(Qur’an 2:155)

Mental illness is often described in terms of symptoms, diagnoses, and medications. Yet behind every diagnosis is a human being carrying grief, hope, fear, faith, and unanswered questions. My own journey began in November 2020 with postpartum psychosis after the birth of my daughter. What began as a terrifying descent into psychosis became a lifelong journey of understanding schizoaffective disorder, accepting treatment, and learning to reconcile modern psychiatry with my Islamic faith. For many years, I struggled not only with the symptoms themselves, but with accepting that I had a chronic mental illness. Acceptance became a process of grief. Through relapses, medications, trauma, and recovery, I gradually came to understand that mental illness is no different from any other disease: it is a test from Allah, a source of purification, and a condition deserving compassion rather than shame.

The Beginning

In November 2020, shortly after giving birth, my world changed. I experienced postpartum psychosis, a rare but severe psychiatric emergency that affects approximately one to two women in every thousand births (Jones et al., 2014). What began with sleeplessness and overwhelming emotions rapidly became confusion, fear, and a loss of touch with reality.
Alongside the illness itself came profound loss. I lost my daughter, and with her loss came grief that words cannot fully describe. Trauma and psychosis became intertwined. Even after the acute illness subsided, the pain remained.
Initially, I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. Later, after further assessment, the diagnosis was revised to schizoaffective disorder, bipolar type. Looking back, the diagnosis made sense. Every relapse I have experienced has contained a manic component rather than depression.
My first relapse came in February 2022. Another followed in 2024, and then a milder relapse in May 2026. Although each episode differed in intensity, they shared common themes: sleeplessness, racing thoughts, heightened emotions, and a reality that slowly began to shift beneath my feet.

When Reality Changes

Psychosis is difficult to explain to someone who has never experienced it. It is not madness in the monstrous sense portrayed by popular culture. Rather, it is a painful unravelling of certainty.I became suspicious and hypervigilant. I believed I was being listened to through my phone. I felt intensely responsible for everyone around me and developed an overwhelming sense that I had a mission to change the world. I took on too many tasks and became euphoric, impulsive, and restless.At times I felt incredibly close to Allah, as though it was “Allah and me against the world.” I feared darkness and unseen forces and became convinced that others harboured envy or ill intentions. My thoughts poured out faster than I could control them. I spoke whatever came to mind, and my nervous system seemed unable to rest. In those moments I felt unusually brave, intelligent, and deeply spiritual. Yet beneath those feelings was fear. And after the storm passed, exhaustion remained.Recovery has taught me that psychosis is not a failure of character. It is an illness.

Part of me wanted to believe I was simply stressed or overwhelmed. I feared stigma and struggled with the idea that I had a chronic mental illness. But eventually I realised that if I would not shame a person with diabetes for needing insulin, then I should not shame myself for needing medication.The medications that helped me also brought challenges.Olanzapine brought significant weight gain and overwhelming drowsiness. Lithium stabilised my moods but eventually affected my thyroid. Aripiprazole caused severe anxiety, and lurasidone caused akathisia—a relentless inner restlessness that is difficult to put into words.Yet despite their side effects, I came to see these medications not as signs of weakness, but as means through which Allah provides healing.The Prophet ﷺ said:”Every disease has a cure. If a cure is applied to the disease, it is relieved by the permission of Allah.”Sahih Muslim 2204

Seeking treatment did not diminish my trust in Allah. It became part of that trust.