When You're Searching for Something You Can't Name—Purpose & Grounding

From the quiet heart of submissionishealing.com, when you're wondering why you're here—and where to go from here.

Sometimes we don’t even know what we’re searching for. We just know something’s missing. 

Not always loudly.

Sometimes it’s the quiet ache that follows us into the night.

Sometimes it’s the heaviness we carry even when life looks “fine” from the outside.

The thing is, It shows up in strange places.

When you’re praying, but feel nothing.

When you have a hundred things to do, but none of them feel worth doing.

When you look in the mirror and don’t quite recognize the person staring back at you.

And you think,  “Maybe it’s me. Maybe I’m the one who’s broken.”

But no. You’re not broken!

You’re just being called back—to something deeper. To something true.

Because not every heartbreak is a loss.

Not every ache is a punishment.

Not every closed door is an ending.

The Ache of Purpose

I know what it’s like to wonder why you’re here—I have been there—and for a long time that it stopped making sense, or maybe that was when it all started to make sense.

For a long time, I confused purpose with productivity, with achievements, with being enough for everything and everyone, and when did I lose myself—in all of the roles I have been told to perform—I couldn’t see.

I thought if I just worked harder, fixed more, and planned better—I’d finally feel whole. But the more I achieved, the more I felt like I was drifting.

I remember, one of many, a time I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life—I had just lost the job I had worked so hard for—something I thought would finally make everything feel steady again.

I was living alone in another country, my kids away from me, running two houses by myself, and trying to figure out who I am, why I am here—while trying to hold onto every thread I could.

All the pieces I had tried so carefully to put back together weren’t taking shape the way I hoped.

And somewhere in that ache—quiet, confusing, and heavy—I stopped trying to find all the right answers.

Not because I was tired of chasing, but because I started asking softer questions instead—the ones that held more worth—the ones that did not leave me crumbling in my own sorrows and misery.

And as you anticipated, the question wasn’t “What is my purpose?” We all know that, no?

But—“What if I just rested for a while here, and listened?” and oh my Lord—the main problem wasn’t that I did not know that I needed to slow down, pause and stop—the problem was that I(and most of you all too) was in a constant run. Thinking that staying busy is the purpose of life, being worthy, being enough—why does resting feel like a crime to us?

But slowly, I realized—the purpose isn’t always to go forward—sometimes, it's to return.

It’s turning inward.

It’s choosing stillness when the world keeps asking you to move.

It’s facing the questions we keep trying to outrun... 

and whispering them to Allah instead.

“And I did not create jinn and mankind except to worship Me.” (Qur’an 51:56)

Worship here isn’t just rituals—it’s returning to who you were before the world stripped you away.

It’s living with awareness.

Breathing with remembrance.

Purpose isn’t something you build—it’s something you uncover, layer by layer, through surrender.

It’s the things you learn and unlearn.

It’s the journey from loving to unloving all that was never meant to be.

It’s the path that you may have taken many times, but couldn’t reach the destination—yet.

The Myth of Groundedness

Have you ever thought: “If only I could feel grounded again”?

Like if you just did enough—healed enough, prayed enough, got your life in order—you’d finally feel steady?

I’ve believed that too. But what if groundedness isn’t a destination?

What if it’s a rhythm?

There will be days you feel deeply rooted. Whole. Content. Calm

And there will be days you feel like you're floating in a fog.

Faith doesn’t promise you won’t waver.

It promises you have something to hold onto when you do—and that’s what we all need, crave, and yearn for.

“Truly, it is in the remembrance of Allah that hearts find rest.” (Qur’an 13:28)

That verse isn’t a promise that you’ll never feel lost.

It’s a gentle reminder: you were never meant to carry this life alone.

How can you feel grounded when you are constantly trying to control things that are not in your control—when you are constantly trying to hold onto things that have already slipped through your hands.

And that groundedness?

Do we ever feel it?

Is it a myth?

Or a lie?

We think that having it all figured out will be it—we will finally feel like we are now steady.

But actually our sense of being grounded comes from being seen and acknowledged—knowing that we are seen, we are heard—someone is there who will take care of us when the worst happens—there is the one who will love us forever, even in the moments we are not able to love ourselves.

Groundedness isn’t tangible—it is the sense of assurance, calm, and comfort in all that happens.

Faith as a Homecoming

We spend so much of our lives looking for a place to belong—to a person. A role. A home. A version of ourselves that finally feels “right,” and that’s okay, I have been there too, and to be honest, I will forever be. 

But home was never meant to be found in the world alone.

Submission is home—the one which is;

Not a burden that crushes your bones, but a return where comfort awaits.

Not a cage that suffocates, but the one with huge windows, facing the sun—where you can breathe.

Not an obligation, but love that keeps pulling you closer.

A return to Allah—not out of fear, but longing.

A return to your fitrah—not the empty shells that rattle on slight nudges.

A return to peace—not the absence of pain, but the presence of meaning.

That’s what Submission is Healing was born from.

Not answers. 

Not perfection.

But a heart that was tired of running… and finally knelt down and whispered: “I’m ready to come home.”

And from that moment, everything changed.

Not all at once. 

Not in neat little steps.

But slowly. 

Softly.

Through stories,

through stillness,

through faith.

Come As You Are—Purpose & Grounding

I don’t know what you’re carrying right now.

I don’t know what you’ve lost, or what you’re still trying to find.

But I want you to know: you are not too late to begin again.

This space wasn’t created to give you answers.

It was created to sit with you in the asking.

So breathe.

Take your time here.

Not to figure everything out

—but to remember you’re not alone.

Welcome to Submission is Healing.

This isn’t a brand.

It’s a homecoming.

And I’m so glad you’re here.

And I hope you find your purpose & grounding.