Why me?

Why do I keep getting tested like this? What did I do to deserve this? I swear, I don’t go around hurting people. I try to do the right thing. I try to be a good person. I keep to myself. I try to pray. I try to stay away from what I know is wrong.

So why me?

Why does it feel like every time I finally catch my breath, something else happens? Why does Allah keep putting me through this? Does Allah hate me? Because honestly… this is too much. I’m tired. When will I ever get a break?

Have you ever asked yourself those questions?

I have.

But I’ve also had conversations with people I know personally who have gone through some of the most horrific things I’ve ever heard. Things I genuinely don’t know if I could handle for even one day. And wallahi, every time they told me their stories, I was left speechless. I didn’t know what to say.

When I Didn’t Know What to Say

I remember one conversation I had with a girl I used to work with. She was the kind of person who would do anything to help somebody. She was down-to-earth, kind, and always had a bright smile on her face. She was just one of those people you could talk to without feeling judged.

One day, we were having a conversation about life, and she told me something I wasn’t expecting. She had gone on vacation to Hawaii with her fiancé and her family. While she was there, she got sick and went to the doctor just to get checked out. It wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. It was just a checkup.

Then they found out she had cancer.

Just like that, her life changed.

She had to start chemotherapy right away. And somehow, things became even harder. Her family left. Her fiancé left. She was left behind, away from home, having to stay there for months to receive treatment. Eight months. Eight months of chemotherapy. Eight months of uncertainty. Eight months of waking up and not knowing what her future was going to look like.

Thankfully, they caught the cancer early, and she eventually got through it. But at the time, she didn’t know that. She didn’t know whether she was going to make it.

And she had dreams. Big dreams. She wanted to get married. She wanted to have children. She wanted to become a mother. She wanted to build a life with the person she loved. But because of the treatments she went through, something she had always dreamed about suddenly became uncertain.

And it wasn’t just the cancer. There was family drama. There was heartbreak. There was loneliness. There was being left behind in a place where she never expected to spend months fighting for her life. There was so much happening at once that I honestly don’t know how she kept going.

And through all of it, she kept asking the same question:

“Why me?”

“Why am I going through this?”

I remember sitting there listening to her, and for one of the first times in my life, I genuinely didn’t know what to say.

I wanted to help her. I wanted to make the pain disappear. I wanted to give her an answer that would somehow make everything make sense. But I couldn’t.

I knew the reminders. I knew the verses. I knew that Allah tests His servants. I knew this dunya isn’t Jannah. I knew that everything happens by Allah’s decree.

But sitting across from someone who is telling you that her entire life suddenly changed because of cancer makes those words feel different.

Because knowing something doesn’t automatically make it easier to hear when you’re the one suffering.

And honestly?

That conversation stayed with me.

Then there was another person I was very close with. Someone who was genuinely one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever known. The type of person who wouldn’t hurt a fly.

But this person went through loss after loss. Death after death. One painful thing after another.

There are parts of their story that, even though I’m writing anonymously, I’m not comfortable putting into this chapter. It was that painful.

And once again, I found myself sitting across from someone who was hurting and asking me the same question:

“Why me?”

“Why am I going through this?”

And once again, I didn’t know what to say.

That’s the part that has stayed with me. Not just their stories, but the fact that I couldn’t answer them.

What Do You Say to Someone Who Is Hurting?

I think sometimes we underestimate how difficult this question actually is.

We say things like, “Allah is testing you.” “Have sabr.” “Everything happens for a reason.” “Allah knows best.”

And yes, those things are true.

But imagine being told you have cancer. Imagine losing someone you love. Imagine watching your family fall apart. Imagine losing the future you spent years dreaming about. Imagine making dua for something for years and still not seeing an answer.

Would you want someone to immediately explain the wisdom behind your pain?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with reminding someone about Allah. I just think we have to remember that people are allowed to hurt. They don’t need to immediately understand the wisdom behind their pain. They don’t need to smile through it. They don’t need to pretend they’re okay.

Sometimes they just need someone to sit there and say, “I know this hurts. I’m here.”

Maybe that’s what I was missing when I was trying to find the perfect thing to say. I thought comforting someone meant giving them an answer.

Maybe sometimes it just means staying.

Does Allah Hate Me?

I think this is where the question gets really dangerous.

Because when you get tested over and over again, it’s easy to start believing that the test itself means something about how Allah sees you.

You start thinking, Maybe Allah is angry with me. Maybe I’m being punished. Maybe Allah doesn’t love me. Maybe I’ve done something so wrong that this is what I deserve.

I’ve had those thoughts too.

And maybe you have as well.

You look around and see people getting married. People having children. People getting jobs. People buying homes. People traveling. People building businesses. People seemingly living the exact life they prayed for.

And then you look at your own life.

And you’re thinking, “What about me?”

You prayed. You tried. You made dua. You waited.

So why are you still here?

Why does it feel like everyone else is moving forward while you’re stuck?

And that’s when the question comes back:

“Why me?”

But here’s what I have to remind myself: being tested doesn’t automatically mean Allah hates you.

If hardship were proof of Allah’s hatred, then what would we say about the Prophets?

What would we say about Nuh (AS)? Ibrahim (AS)? Musa (AS)? Yusuf (AS)? Ayyub (AS)?

These were people who were most beloved to Allah, yet their lives were filled with trials.

Yusuf (AS) was betrayed by his own brothers. He was thrown into a well. He was sold. He was separated from his family. He was imprisoned despite his innocence. And yet Allah never abandoned him.

Ayyub (AS) suffered tremendously. And yet Allah never abandoned him.

So why do I think my hardship automatically means Allah has turned His back on me?

Why do I assume that because something hurts, Allah must hate me?

Maybe the problem is that I’m judging Allah’s love based on how comfortable my life is.

And those are not the same thing.

This Life Was Never Promised to Be Easy

Allah tells us:

“We will certainly test you with something of fear and hunger and loss of wealth and lives and fruits. But give good news to those who patiently endure.”
[Quran 2:155]

I think sometimes I read verses like that and forget how serious they are.

Allah didn’t say life might contain tests. He told us we will be tested.

Fear. Hunger. Loss. Money. People. Things we love. Things we never thought we’d have to live without.

That’s part of this dunya.

And I know that sounds obvious. But knowing something intellectually and accepting it emotionally are two completely different things.

I know life is a test. You know life is a test.

But when the test actually comes? When it’s your mother. Your father. Your marriage. Your health. Your child. Your future. Your money. Your dreams.

Suddenly it’s not just a verse anymore.

It’s your life.

And that’s when faith gets hard.

I Don’t Have an Answer for Everything

I think I’ve had to accept something uncomfortable:

I don’t know.

I don’t know why some people are tested the way they are. I don’t know why some people lose their parents so young. I don’t know why some people spend years praying for children and never have them. I don’t know why some people get sick while they’re still young. I don’t know why someone can spend their whole life trying to do right and still experience things that seem completely unfair.

I don’t know.

And I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I do.

I think sometimes Muslims feel like we have to explain everything. Someone tells us they’re suffering, and immediately we want to explain why Allah allowed it.

But maybe we don’t always need to explain Allah’s decree.

Because we’re not Allah.

We don’t see what He sees. We don’t know what He knows. We see one moment. Allah sees the entire story.

And that’s where tawakkul becomes difficult.

Tawakkul isn’t, “I trust Allah because I understand what He’s doing.”

It’s, “I trust Allah even when I don’t understand what He’s doing.”

That’s much harder.

It’s easy to trust Allah when everything is going exactly how you wanted. It’s easy to say Alhamdulillah when you’re healthy, when your family is together, when your bank account is good, when your dua gets answered, when life feels good.

But what about when it doesn’t?

What about when you’re sitting alone at night asking Allah why?

Can you still turn toward Him?

Can you still make dua?

Can you still say, “Ya Allah, I don’t understand this, but I still trust You.”

That’s a different kind of faith.

You’re Allowed to Say, “Ya Allah, This Hurts”

I think we sometimes make people feel like having faith means you can’t be sad.

Like if you’re crying too much, you’re not patient enough. If you’re angry, you’re not trusting Allah enough. If you’re struggling, maybe your faith isn’t strong enough.

But that’s not how I see it anymore.

You’re human.

You’re going to hurt. You’re going to cry. You’re going to get frustrated. You’re going to have moments where you don’t understand.

And Allah already knows. You don’t have to hide that from Him.

You can literally say:

“Ya Allah, this hurts.”

“Ya Allah, I’m tired.”

“Ya Allah, I don’t understand.”

“Ya Allah, I don’t know how much more I can take.”

That’s not you abandoning Allah. That’s you talking to Allah. And maybe that’s what dua is supposed to be sometimes. Not a perfectly worded prayer. Not some beautiful speech.

Just you.

Broken. Confused. Exhausted.

Talking to your Lord.

Maybe I Don’t Need to Know Why

I’ve thought about the question a lot.

Why me?

And honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever have an answer for every test.

Maybe that’s something I need to accept.

Maybe I don’t need to know why.

Maybe I need to know Who.

Who am I turning to when life gets hard?

Who do I call when nobody else understands?

Who knows exactly what I’m feeling before I even say it?

Allah.

Maybe I keep looking for an explanation when what I really need is closeness.

Maybe I’m asking, “Why did You let this happen?” when I should also be asking, “Ya Allah, how do I get through this with You?”

Because I can’t control what happens to me.

Neither can you.

We can make plans. We can work hard. We can make dua. We can try to protect ourselves. But at the end of the day, there are things completely outside our control. And that scares me. It really does. Because I like knowing what’s coming. I like having a plan. I like feeling like I’m in control.

But life keeps reminding me that I’m not.

And maybe that’s part of the test too.

What If the Test Doesn’t End the Way I Want?

This is probably the hardest part for me to write.

Because sometimes we say, “Don’t worry. Allah will make it better.”

But what if “better” doesn’t look like what I want?

What if the person doesn’t come back?

What if the marriage ends?

What if the illness doesn’t go away?

What if the person you prayed for still dies?

What if the dream you begged Allah for never happens?

What then?

I don’t want to give you some fake answer.

I don’t know.

But I know that Allah’s wisdom isn’t limited by what I can see. And I know this life isn’t the final destination. That’s the part I have to hold onto.

Because maybe I won’t understand everything here. Maybe some questions will remain unanswered until the Hereafter.

Maybe that’s okay.

Because this life isn’t where the entire story gets explained. We only see a few pages. Allah knows the whole book.

And maybe I’ve been reading one painful chapter and thinking, “This is my whole story.”

But it isn’t.

It’s just a chapter.

If You’re Tired, I Get It

If you’re reading this while you’re going through something you never asked for, I don’t want to give you some cheesy motivational speech.

I won’t tell you that tomorrow everything will magically become better. I don’t know that.

I won’t tell you that the exact thing you’re making dua for will definitely happen. I don’t know that either.

But I will tell you this:

Don’t let your pain convince you that Allah has abandoned you.

Keep talking to Him.

Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re angry. Even when your dua feels repetitive. Even when you don’t have the words.

Even when all you can say is:

“Ya Allah, please.”

Keep turning back. And if today all you can do is get through the day without giving up on Allah, then get through today. You don’t have to figure out your entire life tonight.

One prayer. One dua. One day. One breath.

That’s enough for now.

And when that question comes back again:

“Why me?”

Maybe I don’t need to force myself to have an answer.

Maybe I can simply say:

“I don’t know.”

“But Allah knows.”

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.

Because I don’t know what tomorrow holds. I don’t know why everything happens the way it does. I don’t know what Allah is writing for me.

But I know He knows. And I know He is more merciful to me than I could ever be to myself. So I’m going to keep walking. Even if I’m scared. Even if I’m tired. Even if I don’t understand.

Because maybe faith isn’t always knowing where the road is going. Maybe sometimes it’s just trusting the One who already knows.

A Duʿāʾ for the Person Asking, “Why Me?”

Ya Allah, I’m tired.

I’m tired of being tested. I’m tired of pretending that everything is okay when sometimes it isn’t.

There are things happening in my life that I don’t understand. There are things that hurt me more than I know how to explain. Sometimes I look at my life and ask, “Why me?”

Ya Allah, You know the answer even when I don’t.

You know what I can’t see. You know what I don’t understand. You know what is best for me even when what is best doesn’t look good to me right now.

So Ya Allah, give me the strength to trust You. Give me sabr when I feel like I have none left. Give me tawakkul when I can’t see the way forward.

Don’t let my hardship push me away from You. Let it bring me closer.

When I cry, be near me. When I feel alone, remind me that I’m not. When I feel forgotten, remind me that You haven’t forgotten me.

When I don’t understand Your decree, give me peace with it.

And Ya Allah, please don’t let my pain make me bitter. Don’t let me become angry at You because I don’t understand the story You’re writing for me.

If something is good for me, bring it closer. If something is bad for me, remove it from me, even if I don’t understand why.

And if this test is going to continue, give me the strength to continue with it.

Give me the strength to wake up tomorrow. Give me the strength to pray. Give me the strength to keep making dua. Give me the strength to keep believing.

Ya Allah, I don’t need to understand everything.

I just need to know that You haven’t left me.

So when I ask, “Why me?”

Remind my heart:

“You don’t have to understand the test to trust the One who gave it to you.”

Keep me close to You.

Keep my heart firm.

Forgive me for the times I’ve questioned Your wisdom. Forgive me for the times I’ve mistaken hardship for Your hatred.

And when this life finally ends, let me understand what I couldn’t understand here.

Let me look back and see the wisdom.

Let me see the mercy.

Let me see the reward.

And let me realize that every time I thought You had forgotten me…

You were there the entire time.

Ameen.