I Looked Everywhere for Love — Until I Found Allah
by Firdaus Sister
The Self-Help Trap
I never truly understood love. Movies tried to tell me. Novels painted pictures. Even people around me acted as though it was obvious. But for me, love remained a question mark, something distant and unclear.
I spent most of my life searching for answers—about faith, purpose, and meaning. And in the middle of all those questions, love was always there, tugging at me. What is it really? Where do you find it? How do you recognize it when it comes?
I still remember the first self-help book I bought. The cover promised healing your inner child and finding unconditional love within. I devoured it, highlighting every other sentence, convinced that if I just followed the steps, my life would finally make sense.
But one book turned into ten, then into shelves. Titles on manifestation, affirmations, energy healing, “law of attraction.” I went from book to book like an addict, always chasing the next secret formula for happiness.
It didn’t stop there. I attended workshops where coaches told me to “raise my vibration.” I joined circles where people spoke of “oneness with the universe” and how love was everywhere if only I opened myself up. They spoke with such confidence that I believed them.
For a while, I felt a rush. Writing down affirmations in pretty journals. Sitting cross-legged, chanting “I am enough.” Paying for courses that promised to “unlock divine love.”
But after every high came the same crash.
I would close the book or leave the workshop and the same emptiness would echo inside me. My heart was still hungry. My soul still unsettled.
The Dark Side of “Light”
The deeper I went into these so-called “spiritual” teachings, the darker it became.
Some coaches I followed openly mocked religion, calling it outdated. Others introduced rituals that felt… off. They spoke of surrender, but never to Allah. They spoke of “energy” and “guides” but not of the One who created me.
And slowly, I started to see the truth: behind the soft words and polished branding, much of what they preached was deception. Falsehood dressed as wisdom. Some of it even aligned with practices Islam warns us against—sorcery, magic, worship of created things instead of the Creator.
They promised “unconditional love.” But it was a lie.
Because people don’t love unconditionally. They never can.
The Only One Who Loves Without Condition
It took me years—years of wasting money, time, and tears—to realize what was staring me in the face the whole time.
There is no such thing as unconditional love from people. They love with limits, with expectations, with conditions.
The only One who loves us without conditions is Allah.
Only Allah accepts us every single time we turn back to Him.
The Prophet ﷺ said:
“Allah accepts the repentance of His servant so long as the soul has not reached the throat (at the time of death).” (Tirmidhi)
And in another narration:
“Allah stretches out His hand by night so that the sinners of the day may repent, and He stretches out His hand by day so that the sinners of the night may repent—until the sun rises from the west.” (Muslim)
Think about that. Every. Single. Time.
The coaches told me I had to be perfect, healed, vibrating high. Allah tells me to just come back. Broken, flawed, sinful—and He will accept me if I’m sincere.
What kind of love compares to that?
Relearning What I Ran From
For a long time, I resisted Islam.
I thought religion was suppression. Rules and punishments. A cage meant to keep me small. That’s why I ran into the arms of “spirituality,” convinced it was freedom.
But freedom wasn’t what I found. I only found more chains—chains of endless self-help, of pleasing people, of serving desires that never stopped demanding more.
Slowly, all thanks and praise to Allah, I began to look back at Islam. I started reading again, hesitantly, afraid it would suffocate me. But instead, I found something I never expected: a reality check.
What I once thought were “restrictions” were actually protections. What I once called “rules” were actually guardrails keeping me safe.
Islam wasn’t meant to imprison me—it was meant to free me. Free me from the slavery of chasing love in people who could never give it. Free me from the exhaustion of serving desires that left me empty. Free me from the false promises of those who never cared for my soul.
The Qur’an says:
“Indeed, it is in the remembrance of Allah that hearts find rest.” (Surah Ar-Ra’d 13:28)
And Ibn al-Qayyim wrote in Madarij al-Salikin:
“In the heart there is a void that cannot be removed except by being close to Allah. In the heart there is sadness that cannot be removed except by the happiness of knowing Him and being true to Him. And in the heart there is loneliness that cannot be removed except by the company of Allah in solitude.”
That void I had been trying to fill with books, gurus, and mantras—it was made to be filled with Allah. Nothing else.
The Answer That Was Always There
After all the detours, all the wasted years, I finally understood:
Islam had been the answer all along
Not submission to the universe. Not to false coaches. Not to myself. But to Allah alone.
And that is where love finally made sense.
Authors note:
Islam had been the answer all along. Deep down, I always knew it, but being born into Islam sometimes blinds us to the very essence of what it truly is—submission. We go through the motions, carry the label, yet miss the depth. It wasn’t until I began to rediscover Islam—as though I were encountering it for the very first time—that I understood.
I now believe every Muslim born into this faith should relearn it as if they were a new revert. Only then can we taste the sweetness of submission, and only then does Islam move from being an identity to becoming a lived reality.
Come with us on this journey of discovery—through turbulent waves and stormy seas—all aboard the ship of knowledge sailing toward our beautiful religion. May Allah keep us steadfast upon the truth, guide us with His light, and allow us to reach safe shores together, under His mercy.