Who Better to Hold it Other than Allah?
Dhul Hijjah: The Power of True Validation
Salaams everyone!
It’s been a while since I last wrote.
Life, in all its beauty and complexity, has taken me on a journey of deep reflection these past few months. In those moments of contemplation, I often find myself retreating into silence—not out of avoidance, but necessity. It is in the stillness, when the noise of the world fades away, that I can finally hear the gentle wisdom of the soul within me. My mind is a restless ocean, constantly analyzing, debating, and spinning with thoughts. I often joke that Allah places me in a divine “time out” so that I may stop doing and simply be. To be still enough to listen—not just to Him, but to my own heart.
As I’ve sat with the whirlwind of emotions rising within me, I felt moved to share a few reflections, insha’Allah, as we enter one of the most sacred times of the year.
We are now upon the blessed ten days of Dhul Hijjah, the most beloved days to Allah. According to the majority of scholars, these days hold even more virtue than the final ten nights of Ramadan—except, of course, for Laylatul Qadr. These days are drenched in divine mercy; our deeds are magnified beyond our understanding. It is a time to immerse ourselves in remembrance, fasting, charity, and acts of sincere devotion.
Yet even amidst the external rituals of worship, I find myself drawn inward—toward a personal meaning of Dhul Hijjah that has been unfolding in my heart.
Lately, a single word has echoed in my spirit: validation.
To validate someone is to see them. It is to acknowledge and accept their emotional reality as real, worthy, and significant—even if you don’t fully understand it. True validation is an act of sacred witnessing; it says, I believe you. I honor your experience. And in doing so, it opens the door to healing and connection.
Just last week, I reached out to the Imam of our community (may Allah bless and preserve him and his family) during a time of inner turmoil. I was looking for answers to questions that have plagued me for a while while also yearning to be held in my struggle. And what stayed with me most wasn’t the advice he offered—though it was wise and sound Masha’Allah—but how he made me feel.
The first thing he said was, “Don’t hold back. Share everything, including your thoughts and feelings, that’s on your heart.” And so I did. I poured out my fears, my doubts, my aching questions. And he met every word with presence and care. He listened deeply, reflected my thoughts back to me, clarified to ensure he truly understood. And in that moment, something in me softened. I felt seen. I felt heard. And most importantly, I felt that my inner world was worth holding.
That’s the essence of validation: worth. The unspoken belief that what I bring to the table—my feelings, my pain, my questions—is not too much, not too trivial, not too broken. It is sacred. It is worthy and it deserves gentleness, not judgment; space, not solutions.
This, I’ve realized, is one of the most profound gifts we can offer another human being. And paradoxically, it is also one of the hardest since we’re conditioned to fix, to advise, and to interject with our own stories in hopes of creating connection. But in doing so, we often bypass the most crucial step in someone’s healing journey: simply being heard. Truly heard.
When we skip over that, emotions become trapped, locked in the body, begging for release but never finding it.
So what does all this have to do with parenting?
Everything.
These past months, I’ve found myself struggling deeply to validate my son. His intense emotions left me overwhelmed, bitter, even angry. In my mind, I labeled him as a loud, rude, and disrespectful child. I wondered how my child could act this way when I, in my own childhood, wouldn’t even raise my voice to my parents.
But the more I judged him, the more dysregulated he became. The more I tried to control, the more he seemed to spiral.
And then I paused. I turned inward.
Beneath the surface, I found an ache—an unhealed part of myself. The little girl in me, Tasniya, crying for validation she never received. You see, validating others has always come naturally to me—I sense others’ emotional states almost before they do. But to validate myself? That’s foreign terrain.
In the home I was raised in, emotional attunement wasn’t modeled. Within our desi culture, many parents didn’t know how to hold space for a child’s feelings. The unspoken message I absorbed was: your reality doesn’t matter. Keep others happy. Serve quietly. Don’t disturb the peace.
And so I became skilled—exceptionally skilled—at holding space for everyone but myself.
Now, when my son lashes out, the unvalidated child inside me cries out too. She whispers, See me. Understand me. Acknowledge that I, too, once needed what I now struggle to give. Don’t continue to abandon my needs. Validate what’s coming up for me too.
And then the truth dawned on me: I can’t raise my son with consciousness and compassion if I continue to abandon my own inner child.
Validating her is not optional anymore—it’s essential.
And so I pray to meet her—little Tasniya—not with criticism or shame, but with the voice of divine compassion. With the voice of the ruh that Allah breathed into me. That ruh, that inner wisdom, carries His names: Ar-Rahman (The Most Compassionate), Al-Latif (The Subtly Kind), Al-Wadud (The Most Loving). Through that voice, He is already validating me.
And if I can truly listen to that voice within, I can begin to offer my son what I never received: empathy without judgment. Love without conditions. Space to feel and be.
As I reflect on the beauty of Dhul Hijjah, I am struck by something even more profound.
These ten days are not just a time of worship. They are a sacred manifestation of Allah’s validation—especially of the family of Ibrahim (AS). Think of Hajar (AS), running between the mountains in search of water for her son. Alone. Afraid. Desperate. And yet, never abandoned. Allah witnessed her pain and honored it. So much so that He enshrined her struggle in the rituals of Hajj and umrah itself.
How deeply loving is our Lord, who turns a mother’s anguish into a path of worship for all of humanity?
When we walk between Safa and Marwa, we are not just retracing her steps—we are bearing witness to the fact that Allah sees us. Hears us. Validates us. Our unspoken aches, our buried grief, our silent tears—He holds them all.
So this Dhul Hijjah, let it be a reminder:
Allah is the ultimate validator.
He knows the weight we carry in our hearts. He listens to the pain we cannot articulate. He honors the cries we silence in front of others. And He invites us—again and again—to bring it all to Him in sujood.
Because there is no one more capable, more merciful, more knowing of our reality than Al-Baseer (The One who Sees Everything), As-Sami (The One who Hears Everything) , Al-Kafi (The One Who Suffices all our Needs).
And who better to hold our truth than the One who created it?