Alhamdulillah, I've completed reading Making Sense of the Unseen Pain written by Sharifah Nadirah.
Bought the book at a bargain price during PBAKL'26, and I wasn't expecting to get much from it... Man, was I wrong. As they would say, "expect the unexpected."
I love reading the book. Ustazah Sharifah Nadirah really puts it well and I could feel every words that were written in the book. As the title calls for it. The book is about mental illness, the stigma, the support, the awareness. It was an easy-reading book, yet, the topic itself is never easy.
And thank you for writing such a book. At least, I learn few things from it.
...
There are things in this book that made me pause.
The rabbit hole of unseen pain
There is that sense of doom and helplessness when someone finds themselves stumbling into something unknown. Anxiety. Uncertainty. Loss.
You don't always know what is happening to you. Sometimes you don't even have the words to explain it. And when something cannot be seen, perhaps it becomes even easier for others to dismiss it.
"You just need to be stronger."
"Think positive."
"Have more iman."
"Everyone has problems."
But perhaps we need to be more careful. One thing I took away from the book is this: We should not oversimplify mental illness.
Even when we are trying to help. Even when our intentions are good. And especially when we don't fully understand what the other person is experiencing. Iman is not the enemy This was another point that stayed with me. Iman does not become the cause of mental illness. But strengthening one's iman can be part of the healing journey.
There is a difference. And I think that distinction matters. Because sometimes, when we reduce every struggle to “your iman is weak,” we unintentionally make someone feel even worse. Now they are not only struggling with their illness. They are struggling with guilt. With shame. With the feeling that perhaps Allah is displeased with them. We need to be careful not to turn religion into another weapon against someone who is already hurting. Faith can be a source of strength. But that does not mean we should deny the reality of illness.
Sometimes, knowledge is kindness. Perhaps one of the biggest lessons for me is the importance of knowledge and awareness. We cannot validate what we refuse to understand. We cannot support someone when we keep dismissing what they are going through. And we certainly cannot help someone if we gaslight their pain.
Mental illness is an illness. It deserves to be recognised. It deserves proper attention. It deserves treatment. And perhaps before we tell someone how to fix themselves, we need to first understand what is hurting them. Identify the pain first.
Then we can talk about healing. Not broken. I particularly loved the idea of moving away from the language of being broken. Because perhaps a person struggling with mental illness isn't broken. Perhaps they are hurting. Perhaps something needs attention. Perhaps something needs to be mended.
There is a difference between saying, “You are broken.”
and saying, “You are hurting. Let's see how we can help.”
The first carries judgement. The second carries compassion. And maybe that is what we need more of. Learning to live within our capacity
Another thing I took away from the book is the importance of knowing ourselves. Self-discovery. Self-efficacy. Self-regulation. Understanding our own limits. Learning when to push ourselves and when to stop. Taking risks, but also recognising our capacity. Living life without constantly measuring ourselves against someone else's capacity.
And perhaps most importantly, letting go of our assumptions and judgements about other people. Because we really don't know what someone else is carrying. We see what is visible. But there may be an entire world happening underneath. An unseen pain. We need to make room for differences.
Perhaps we also need to become more comfortable with the fact that people are different. Different capacities. Different struggles. Different ways of coping. Different journeys. And that includes learning not to stigmatise others — or ourselves.
Sometimes the stigma doesn't even come from outside. We internalise it. We start believing that needing help means we are weak. That needing treatment means our iman is weak. That having limitations means we have failed. It doesn't.
Seeking treatment is not giving up. Sometimes, it is precisely because we value life that we seek help to make that life better. We don't treat an illness only because we are afraid of death. We treat it because we want to live well. We want to function. We want to experience life. We want to be present for the people we love. We want to become the best version of ourselves within the capacity Allah has given us.
And perhaps there is no shame in admitting: This is what I can do.This is what I cannot do.This is where I need help.
A book I didn't know I needed. So yes, I bought this book because it was cheap. I didn't expect much. And yet, I walked away with much more than I expected. At least, I learnt a few things. I learnt that unseen does not mean unreal. That pain does not always have to be visible to deserve compassion. That awareness matters. That knowledge matters. That we need to be careful with our words. That faith and mental health should not be reduced to simplistic explanations. And that perhaps one of the kindest things we can do for someone is to stop asking, “What's wrong with you?” and start asking,“What happened? What are you going through? How can I understand?”
So, thank you, Ustazah Sharifah Nadirah, for writing this book. For making an uncomfortable subject easier to approach. For reminding us that there are pains we cannot see.
And perhaps, most importantly, for reminding us that a person who is struggling is not necessarily broken. Sometimes, they simply need to be understood. Sometimes, they need to be supported. Sometimes, they need treatment. And sometimes, they simply need someone to sit beside them and say, I may not fully understand what you're going through yet, but I believe your pain is real.
And maybe that's where healing begins.
