A List Of 22 Things I Learned at 22

There are years that pass you by, and then there are years that change the way you see everything.

My 22nd year was not just a year of change. It was a year of returning. Returning to Allah, to prayer, to my family, to better friendships, and to a version of me I did not know I needed to become.

These are 22 things I learned at 22.

1. Salah is the beginning of everything

I grew up thinking faith was mostly about fear. Fear of punishment, fear of hellfire, fear of not being good enough. But this year, I began to understand something different: when you focus on Allah’s love, the fear changes. It becomes less about punishment and more about not wanting to disappoint the One you love most.

Salah became the place I could return to five times a day. Whether I was overwhelmed by sadness, joy, anxiety or gratitude, I had somewhere to go. I had Allah. And when you start treating prayer as a meeting with the One who already knows what is in your heart, you stop feeling so alone.

Even in times of struggle, Allah sees you. Even when guilt sits heavily in your heart and your faith feels distant, He still sees the effort, the intention and the sincerity behind every attempt to return to Him.

2. What you are not changing, you are choosing

At some point, I had to ask myself if I really wanted another year of the same mistakes, the same people, the same habits, the same sadness and the same dreams I kept thinking about but never acted on.

I did not want that life anymore. So I changed it.

And when you change, people react. Some are inspired, some are confused, and some almost take it personally. But I learned that if you genuinely want a different life, you have to set boundaries. You have to say no. You have to stop choosing comfort over growth.

The people who are truly for you will support your change, even if your new life does not look like theirs.

3. You will never feel ready

You are never fully ready. Not for change, not for growth, not for a new beginning.

I used to wait until I felt prepared, confident or certain. But readiness rarely arrives before action. Most of the time, you become ready by doing the thing you were afraid to start.

Even when you take a step in the wrong direction, you learn something. And then you try again.

4. Even when you think you are healed, you are not 

There comes a point in a healing process where life feels lighter. You feel more stable. You can breathe again. You think, maybe I am healed now.

But that is only the beginning.

Because after you leave the difficult place, you have to learn how to stay out of it. You have to maintain the life you fought for. You have to stop yourself from returning to old patterns, old environments and old versions of yourself.

Healing is not a finish line. It is a responsibility.

5. Growth will make you harder on yourself

As I changed, I became more disappointed in myself whenever I slipped in the smallest ways. I would think: why am I here again? I thought I had moved past this.

But I have realised that this often happens because my standards have changed. Things I once accepted no longer feel acceptable. Small things feel bigger because I know I can do better.

You have to remember to be gentle to yourself in that process.

6. “You are so strong” is not always the compliment people think it is

People used to call me strong when I lost my father. But sometimes what people call strength is really just survival.

I did not always choose to be strong. Sometimes I just felt like I had no other option.

But today, I understand strength differently. Strength is not just getting through pain. Strength is being able to wear my hijab without letting other people’s opinions stop me. Strength is saying no to what does not align with my values. Strength is looking back at hardship and still saying Alhamdulillah.

I am strong today, not as a form of comfort, but as proof of what living with Allah at the centre can do.

7. Work on your character before your appearance

I still believe in taking care of yourself and feeling beautiful. But this year I realised how much value we place on appearance while completely neglecting character.

For a long time, compliments I received were mostly about how I looked. And while there is nothing wrong with beauty, I no longer want that to be the most valuable thing about me.

I would rather be remembered for the way I treat people. My kindness. My generosity. My adab. My softness. The way I make others feel.

Because beauty means very little if there is nothing beautiful within you.

There is a dua I try to remember whenever I stand in front of the mirror: “Oh Allah, just as You have made my outer appearance beautiful, make my character beautiful too.”

8. Friendship is not about who has known you the longest

I used to think my childhood friends would automatically be the people I would walk through life with forever. There was comfort in that idea.

But this year taught me that shared history is not the same as shared values.

Some people fall away naturally, and it does not always require conflict. Sometimes Allah removes people from your life so you can focus more clearly on Him, your purpose and the person you are becoming.

I am grateful for the people who know my past. But I no longer believe that history alone should decide the value of a friendship.

9. Family first

One thing I noticed during periods of personal transformation is that you often pull away from the world a little. You become quieter, more selective with your energy, more protective over what is changing within you.

But I never felt the need to disappear from my family.

They were the only people I could be changing around without having to explain every part of it first

10. Sisterhood in Islam is different

There is something deeply special about loving someone for the sake of Allah.

It is not based on convenience, history or how long you have known each other. Sometimes you meet someone, and within weeks you have grown a deep love for that person.

Sisters in Islam make dua for you when you are not there. They remind you of Allah when you forget. They celebrate your growth instead of competing with it.

It feels deeper than friendship, because the connection comes from Someone far greater than both of you.

11. The masjid is for women too

For a long time, I think many of us grew up seeing the masjid as a space mainly for men. But the masjid is for all of us.

There is something powerful about standing shoulder to shoulder with women you may not even know. And there is something so peaceful about the sound of hundreds of quiet whispers filling the room at once. Small duas. Soft recitations. 

During Ramadan, I felt it even more. Instead of cafés, scrolling or filling time with distractions, we met for taraweeh. We talked, laughed, prayed, and somehow the conversation always returned to deen.

The masjid gave me a kind of social life that brought me closer to Allah instead of further away from Him.

12. Love needs more than feelings

I am a hopeless romantic. I grew up on films where love is dramatic, emotional and full of grand gestures.

But I also live in a generation where love often feels undefined. People invest time, emotions and energy into something without knowing what it is or where it is going.

That is why I find peace in the Islamic perspective. Love is not just a feeling you hope will last. It is also responsibility, commitment, rights and care.

Maybe love is not about finding someone who completes you. Maybe it is about finding someone you can build with, on a foundation that is already strong.

13. Old relationships require new boundaries

Some people still meet you as the version of yourself they have always known.

And sometimes, without meaning to, you start playing that old role again. You laugh at things you no longer find funny. You entertain conversations that no longer feel like you.

I have learned that just because something once felt normal does not mean it still does. And just because someone knows your past does not mean they understand your present.

Boundaries are not always dramatic. Sometimes they are simply choosing not to participate in what no longer fits who you are becoming.

14. Oversharing gives too much of you away

I love to talk when I feel comfortable. But this year I realised that every time you share too much of yourself, you give a part of yourself away.

And not everyone knows how to carry that.

Oversharing can make people reduce you to one version of yourself: funny, chaotic, loud, unfiltered. But that may not be all of you.

Therefore, silence is powerful. Not everyone needs access to every part of you.

15. Honesty still needs adab

I have always seen myself as an honest person. But this year I learned that honesty without wisdom can become harshness.

Not every thought needs to be said out loud. Not every truth is helpful just because it is true.

I still want to be honest. But I want to be more intentional about when my honesty is useful, and when it is simply sharp.

Sometimes adab is knowing when to speak, when to soften your words, and when to stay quiet.

16. Let go of anger by making dua

When someone from your past has hurt you, it is easy to hold on to anger. But I have learned that making dua for them softens something in the heart.

Pray that Allah guides them. Pray that they never put someone else through what they put you through. Pray that they heal too.

17. Jealousy is human — what you do with it matters

Jealousy is a human feeling. But what you do when it enters your heart says everything.

When I feel jealousy, I try to make dua for the person. I ask Allah to give them even more. I ask Him to protect my heart from bitterness.

Rizq looks different for everyone. What is written for someone else was never meant for you, and what is written for you will never miss you. So instead of obsessing over what Allah has given others, focus on what He is trying to give you.

18. Religion scares people

When you become more visibly religious, some people will look at you differently.

They may try to convince you that religion should not be the centre of your life. They may make you feel like you are becoming “too much”.

But that does not mean you should dim your light. I learned that if Allah is the centre of my life, I do not need to make that smaller for anyone.

Read more about it in the article: The Silent Burden of Visible Faith 

19. Social media shapes you more than you think

One of the first things I did before my life changed was turn off my notifications. 

The peace that came from not constantly being interrupted was immediate.

Then I started cleaning up who I followed.

Because “following” someone is not a small thing. It means you are allowing that person to influence you, inspire you, shape what you see and maybe even what you desire.

If I want to become the best version of myself, I cannot keep following people who pull me away from that version.

20. A soft heart is not weakness

The world teaches you to be careful, guarded and suspicious. And sometimes that creates a hard heart.

I used to think that my mental health was getting better because I stopped crying. But now I cry more than ever — from gratitude and small reminders of Allah.

That is not weakness. 

When I began surrounding myself with people who love Allah, I stopped feeling like I had to protect my heart from letting them into my life. I could love more freely because the foundation was different.

21. Charity is not always grand

Charity is not only money. It can be time, presence, service, a smile.

I used to underestimate how much small acts matter. But volunteering taught me that the hours I might have spent scrolling could be spent with a child who needs company, an elderly person who needs help, or a community that needs care.

Even smiling can be charity.

I think about the hijabis who smiled at me before I wore hijab. Those small smiles made me feel a part of something. They made me think: I want to be just like them.

Now I try to offer that same smile to someone else.

22. I have time — I just have to prioritise

We all say we are busy. But often, we are not busy. We are distracted.

This year I learned that there is a difference between being busy and being productive. I am trying to complain less about having a thousand things to do and instead ask myself what actually matters.

When you know what you value, time becomes easier to organise.

And if something in your life is taking all your time while giving nothing to your soul, maybe it is worth reconsidering. 

And remember that this is all dunya. There is something greater waiting.

Closing note

I know that my 13 year old self would think the woman I am becoming is so cool.

And I do not think she could have imagined, even in her wildest dreams, that this is only the beginning.

But I know it is.