In 2018, my world fell apart.

What looked like an “emotional breakdown” from the outside was, on the inside, a complete unraveling of my identity, beliefs, and sense of stability. For years, I had pushed myself to survive, to perform, to remain the devoted believer I thought I was supposed to be. I wore strength like a mask. I held my pain like a secret. And I lived my life according to beliefs that looked holy on the surface but were suffocating me underneath.

But in 2018, my mind and body could no longer hold the weight.

🌑 The Breaking Point

It wasn’t a single moment — it was a slow crumble.
My emotions became unrecognizable.
My thoughts became loud and chaotic.
My sense of self seemed to disappear.

I couldn’t explain it at the time.
I just felt like I was dying inside.

For 25 years, I had lived as a devoted “slave of Allah,” clinging to rituals, rules, and doctrines that structured every moment of my life. I believed that obedience would bring me peace. But in the silence of my breakdown, I heard a truth that terrified me:

I knew religion, but I did not know God.

It was a realization that cut straight through everything.
It was the beginning of the end — and the beginning of something new.

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🌫️ 2019: The Faith Crisis

The next year, the emotional collapse became a spiritual one.

Everything I had built my identity upon suddenly felt fragile. I began to see inconsistencies, manipulations, fears, and contradictions I had ignored for decades. The beliefs I once clung to no longer comforted me — they suffocated me. The certainty I once wore with pride dissolved into confusion and pain.

And perhaps most painful of all:
I realized that the God I loved had been buried under layers of fear-based religion.

This wasn’t rebellion.
This wasn’t ego.
This wasn’t anger.

It was heartbreak.

The faith crisis wasn’t about wanting to leave God —
it was about finally acknowledging that the version of faith I had inherited was hurting me.

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🌿 The Start of the Healing Journey

My collapse wasn’t a failure.
It was an invitation.

It was the moment that forced me to examine everything I had avoided:
my childhood wounds, my fear of abandonment, my need for approval, my longing to feel safe, and the religious beliefs that had taken root in the cracks of those wounds.

My breakdown wasn’t the end of me —
it was the beginning of my reconstruction.

It was the painful, sacred point where I learned the truth:

🌱 Sometimes your life has to fall apart before you can finally begin to heal.

This moment — the collapse — is what pushed me toward the deep healing work that would eventually lead to Nela’s Nest.

Because I know this:
There are others out there right now who are standing in the same darkness, questioning everything, feeling like their world is cracking open. And if that’s you, I want to tell you something I wish someone had told me:

You are not falling apart. You are breaking open.