ALAM Psychotherapy & Consulting

10/17/2025

You can only run for so long before your heart starts to ache for home.

Not a physical place.

But the quiet nearness of Allah that once felt familiar.

Sometimes it takes only a few words to stop you mid-motion.

To make you realize how far you’ve drifted.

Not because you meant to… but because running became second nature.

Running from discomfort.
From silence.
From what Allah keeps showing you.

In trauma work, we learn that the nervous system remembers safety. Even after chaos, your body longs to return to what feels secure.

Spiritually, the heart (qalb) is no different.

It keeps turning until it finds what it was made for… divine connection.

When Allah asks in the Qur’an,
“So where are you going?” (81:26), it isn’t a reprimand.

It’s mercy disguised as a question.

It’s an invitation to pause, to notice where your energy has been going.

Because we don’t just drift by accident.

We drift when we’re distracted.

When the heart starts chasing what it was never meant to serve.

Validation, control, certainty, people, outcomes.

And that chase feels exhausting because the soul can never rest in anything temporary.

In therapy, we talk about regulation, bringing the body back to center.

In faith, we call it tawbah, returning to Allah, again and again.

Not with shame, but with awareness.

Not to punish yourself, but to re-align your direction.

Every turning back is healing.
Every pause to reflect is worship.
Every whisper of “I’ve been lost” is heard by the One who never leaves.

So if you’ve been running, from yourself, your pain, or His signs,
come back.

Not perfectly.

Just sincerely.

Because the One who asks, “Where are you going?”
is also the One waiting when you return.

So pause.
Reorient.
And return.

To work 1-1 with me in therapy, book your free consultation through the link in bio.

Follow .with.samira for trauma-informed, faith-rooted reflections.

Like, save, and share this with someone whose heart needs this reminder.

With gratitude,
Samira

10/10/2025

10/09/2025

You’ve been holding your breath for so long that peace almost feels foreign.

Your chest has learned the shape of tension, your body the rhythm of survival.

But the same Allah who split the sea for Musa عليه السلام, when every path was blocked, when fear and faith stood side by side, is the same Allah who can open what feels closed within you.

The heaviness in your chest isn’t weakness.

It’s your body remembering how long it has carried what was never meant to be held alone.

Healing doesn’t mean never feeling tightness again. It means learning to breathe through it, to trust that the One who created your heart also knows how to expand it.

When anxiety rises and your breath feels trapped, try slowing down.
• Feel your feet on the ground.
• Let your exhale lengthen a little more than your inhale.
• Remind yourself that relief isn’t far, it’s already written.
• Place your hand on your chest and remember: your Lord sees you even in silence and knows all the pain you’re carrying.

Musa عليه السلام, anxious and uncertain, turned to Allah with one of the most powerful du’as in the Qur’an:
“Rabbi ishrah li sadri. Wa yassir li amri…” (Ta-Ha 20:25–26)
“My Lord, open my chest for me, and make my task easy for me…”

This wasn’t just a request for courage. It was a plea for inner expansion, for the kind of calm that allows you to show up to what feels impossible without being consumed by fear.

You can carry that same prayer into your own moments of constriction. It’s not about the words alone, but the tawakkul behind them.

If you’re in a season where your chest feels tight, know this: the same power that split an ocean can create space for peace inside of you too.

To work 1-1 with me in therapy, book your free consultation today. Link in bio.

If this spoke to you, follow .with.samira for more.

With gratitude,
— Samira

06/01/2025

There are parts of you that survived by staying quiet, agreeable, and small.

Not because you were weak. But because your nervous system believed it was the only way to stay safe.

You learned to read the room before you could even read books.

You learned to anticipate others’ needs while disconnecting from your own.

You learned to confuse being accepted with being loved.

But healing invites you to pause. To return.

To whisper “I’m sorry” to the younger you who was just trying to survive.

To speak to yourself with the same compassion you offer everyone else.

To see that mercy is not just something we give others. It’s something we’re called to give ourselves too and sometimes, mercy looks like no longer abandoning yourself.

You are allowed to grieve the times you didn’t know better.

And you’re allowed to stop apologizing for the woman you are becoming.

If this resonates, follow .with.samira for more trauma-informed, faith-rooted reflections.

⸻

06/01/2025

Some relationships only work when you hide how you really feel.

That’s not peace. That’s called self-abandonment, when you stop listening to your own heart so someone else can feel comfortable.

Maybe you were taught that keeping the peace means keeping quiet.

Maybe you learned that love means never upsetting anyone.

Maybe, over time, you believed that your feelings were too much, so you stopped speaking them.

But here’s something important to know:
Silencing yourself isn’t love. It’s survival.
And survival mode isn’t how Allah wants you to live.

You weren’t created to walk on eggshells.

You weren’t made to hide your needs just to stay close to someone.

The nervous system plays a big role here. When you grow up around fear, yelling, rejection, or emotional neglect, your body learns to stay quiet to stay safe.
Even as an adult, your body might still think:

“If I say something, I’ll be hurt, left out, or unloved.”

That’s your trauma speaking. Not your truth.

True safety is when you can be fully yourself and still feel loved.

Not only does that help your mental health, it helps your body relax and your faith grow.

Because when you no longer fear rejection, you make space for rahmah (mercy), sakeenah (peace), and ihsan (goodness), the kind of love Islam teaches us to seek.

You deserve to be in relationships where your voice isn’t a threat, it’s a part of the connection.

Here’s what to try if this speaks to you:
Practice saying, “This doesn’t feel okay to me.” Even just to yourself.
Ask: “Am I safe… or just silent?”
Remind your nervous system: “I am allowed to take up space.”
Make du’a: “O Allah, surround me with people who make space for my growth and not just my silence.”

—
Save this if you’ve ever had to shrink yourself to be loved.

Share it with someone learning to set boundaries.

Follow .with.samira for more trauma-informed, faith-rooted healing reminders.

05/31/2025

Many parents say they’d do anything for their kids. They talk about sacrifice. Staying up all night. Working multiple jobs.
Giving their child what they never had.

And while those sacrifices are real —
there’s a deeper offering your child needs:
Your emotional presence. Your regulation. Your healing.

the hardest thing to do - and the most loving - is to face the parts of yourself that feel angry, afraid, or ashamed.

Because unhealed pain doesn’t disappear.
It spills into your tone.
It shapes your child’s nervous system.
It becomes their inner voice.

Because what hasn’t been healed in you, gets passed on.
Not out of malice, but out of repetition.
Out of survival.
Out of what your nervous system learned when you were just a child.

You may not have been allowed to cry.
You may have been told to be “grateful,” “tough,” “quiet.”
You may have been gaslit, neglected, or parented through fear.

None of that was your fault.
But healing it is your responsibility now —
not just for you, but for the soul who now calls you “Mom” or “Dad.”

Your child doesn’t just inherit your DNA.
They absorb your energy.
They hear how you talk to yourself.
They feel whether it’s safe to come to you with their feelings.

And when your wounds remain unhealed, they will start thinking something is wrong with them.
They’ll internalize the tension. The blame. The rejection.

And carry it into their own relationships, their own self-worth, their own bodies.

You don’t have to be perfect.
But you do have to be willing
to pause, to reflect, to repair.

Healing isn’t loud. It’s not glamorous.
It often looks like sitting in silence with feelings you were taught to avoid.
It’s catching yourself before repeating a pattern.
It’s apologizing.
It’s going to therapy when you’d rather numb or blame.

That’s the kind of parent who changes everything.

Dying for them feels heroic.
But healing for them? That’s what breaks cycles.

Follow .with.samira for more.

—

05/29/2025

Avoidance feels like safety when your body is overwhelmed. But real healing means gently learning how to stay, even when it’s hard.

Let’s explain this more clearly.

When something feels too big, scary, or uncomfortable, your brain might say:
“Let’s just not think about it.”
Or
“Let’s do something else. Let’s scroll, sleep, clean, or eat instead.”

That’s called avoidance.

And your brain does it to protect you, especially if you’ve been through things that made you feel unsafe before.

But here’s the thing:
Avoiding hard things all the time doesn’t actually make us feel better in the long run.
It makes our world feel smaller.
It makes our body stay on “alert” more often.
And it can make everyday things feel harder over time.

Healing doesn’t mean pushing yourself into stress.

It means learning how to stay just a little longer with your feelings, and showing your body that it’s okay now.

Avoidance isn’t a bad habit. It’s a body signal that says: “I don’t feel safe yet.”

Healing means giving your body new messages. Messages like:
“You can be safe now.”
“It’s okay to feel this.”
“Allah is with me, even when I feel overwhelmed.”

You don’t have to stay in hard feelings forever.
You just need to practice not running away from them right away.

Healing takes time.
And it always begins with small, safe steps.

⸻

Follow .with.samira for more faith-based, trauma-informed support your nervous system can understand.

05/27/2025

When you feel scared, anxious, or overwhelmed, your body reacts before your mind does.

Your heart beats fast.
Your breathing changes.
Your hands might sweat.
You might feel like running away, shutting down, or doing nothing at all.

Even when nothing bad is happening, your body might still feel like you’re in danger. This is what trauma and stress can do to the nervous system.

But here’s something beautiful and comforting:

Allah already gave us ways to help our body feel safe again.

They are part of our religion.

Especially in salah (prayer).

When we pray, we recite.
We stand. We bow. We sit. We breathe.
We place our forehead on the ground.
We listen to the words of the Qur’an.
We move slowly. We repeat. We pause.

All of this helps you feel:
• More grounded
• More calm
• More connected to yourself
• And more connected to your Lord

Prayer helps the nervous system come out of stress and into peace.

And the best part? It’s not just your body that finds comfort.

Your soul does too.

Because prayer reminds you that Allah is with you.
He Sees you.
He Hears you.
And He is As-Salaam, the Source of Peace.

Modern therapy teaches grounding, breathwork, movement, and stillness to help people heal.

But Islam gave us all of that, long before therapy existed.

And it was given to us with purpose, meaning, and connection to the One who created us.

If you’re overwhelmed, start with salah.
A way back to and source of healing for your body, mind, and soul.

⸻

Save this for the days you feel disconnected.
Follow .with.samira for more healing through a trauma-informed, faith-integrated lens.

—

05/26/2025

Did you know that reciting the Qur’an can actually calm your nervous system?

Not just your mind. Not just your emotions.

But your body, the part of you that holds all your stress, tension, and fear.

Let me explain in really simple words:

When we go through hard things — like fear, loss, rejection, or trauma — our body remembers.

Even if we’re no longer in danger, our body sometimes acts like we still are.

This is called being stuck in survival mode.

It’s why you might feel anxious for no reason.

It’s why you get tired, irritable, shut down, or overwhelmed even when nothing “bad” is happening.

That’s your nervous system trying to protect you — even when you’re safe now.

And this is where the vagus nerve comes in.

The vagus nerve is like your body’s “calm switch.”
It runs from your brain down into your chest, lungs, and stomach.

When it’s activated gently, it tells your body:
“You’re safe now. You can rest. You don’t have to fight anymore.”

Now here’s the beautiful part:
Reciting the Qur’an — especially slowly, out loud, with feeling — activates that same calm switch.

Why?

Because the melody of your voice, the rhythm of your breath, and the way you pronounce the verses all work together to relax your body.
It’s like breath work and therapy all in one.

When you recite slowly…
When you stretch the sounds…
When you breathe deeply between the verses…
You’re not just worshipping— you’re also regulating.

God gave us a book that doesn’t just guide our soul.

It also helps heal our nervous system return to peace.

So if you ever feel overwhelmed, anxious, disconnected…
Try this:
• Sit somewhere quiet
• Take a deep breath
• Open the Qur’an
• Recite one verse slowly, out loud
• Let your body hear it, not just your mind

You don’t have to be perfect at tajwīd.
You don’t have to finish a whole page.
Just one verse — one slow breath — one moment of connection.

That’s healing.

Science is just starting to understand what Allah gave us 1400 years ago.

But your heart and body already know:
The Qur’an is medicine. For the soul and the nervous system.

Follow .with.samira for more.

05/24/2025

For too long, Western psychology has dominated the conversation around healing.

It was never built to see you in your fullness. It was developed in academic institutions rooted in colonial frameworks, by thinkers who were predominantly white, male, and disconnected from the spiritual, communal, and embodied ways of knowing that many non-Western cultures have relied on for centuries.

This model told us that healing means “coping,” “managing symptoms,” and “reframing thoughts.” But what about the culture that shapes us? The soul that longs for divine connection? These were left out and many of us were left misdiagnosed, misunderstood, or unseen because of it.

Healing about restoring safety in the nervous system, reconnecting with your body, and realigning with your spiritual purpose. It’s about returning to your fitrah, the pure, dignified self Allah created you with and healing the layers of shame, fear, and pain that have covered it.

You don’t just need coping tools. For many of us, you need healing that honors your faith, culture, and soul.

If you’ve ever felt like therapy didn’t fully reach you, you’re not alone.
And it’s not your fault.
The model itself was incomplete.

Let’s rebuild something better.
Something more honest.
More embodied.
More faithful.
More you.

—

Follow .with.samira for trauma-informed, faith-conscious care that honours your whole self.