Amina always looked calm, but inside, her mind was a battlefield—not with voices, not with noise, but with endless thoughts. Did I say the wrong thing? What if they think I’m awkward? Should I just stay quiet next time? It never stopped. Not at school, not at home, not even in prayer.

And when she started wearing hijab, it only got worse. Because now, it wasn’t just about her thoughts—it was about their words.

The Weight of Their Words

Amina’s family was Muslim. Not strict, not overly religious—just modern. They prayed, fasted, celebrated Eid. But hijab? That was different. She still remembered the first time she wore it to a family gathering. She expected warmth, encouragement—maybe even a Mashallah. Instead, she got:

“Oh, you’re wearing it now?”
“You’re so young, Dear”
“At least style it nicely. This plain one is so old-fashioned.”
“You have your whole life to cover up. Why rush?”

She smiled, laughed, brushed it off. But that night, she stood in front of the mirror, staring. Thinking. Doubting. Am I making my life harder for no reason? What if they’re right? What if I just take it off—just for today?

She hated how much their words affected her. She wanted to please them, but she also wanted to please Allah. And every decision felt like a battle.

Overthinking Everything

But hijab wasn’t the only thing. Overthinking poisoned everything—even her worship. She’d redo wudu again and again, afraid she missed a step. She’d restart her salah, wondering if she pronounced everything right. She’d make supplication, then doubt if she was sincere enough. And since she carried guilt like a chain—Did I repent properly? What if Allah didn’t accept it? What if I die with unfinished repentance?

And the future? That was the worst. What if I choose the wrong career? What if I never get married? What if I fail?

Her mind was never silent. And one night, it all became too much.

Amina had just come back from a family wedding. The entire evening, she had felt like she was under a microscope—the stares, the whispers, the subtle, well-meaning advice. She smiled, laughed, pretended it didn’t bother her. But now, alone in her room, she couldn’t breathe. Tears burned in her eyes.

She grabbed her phone. Not to scroll. Not to escape. But to find something.
She typed into YouTube: Islam and overthinking.
A video popped up. A simple title: You’re overthinking because you forgot who controls everything.
She clicked. The speaker’s voice was calm, steady. And his first words hit her like a wave:

“Your thoughts are not in your control. But your trust in Allah is.”

Amina sat up.

“You’re exhausting yourself trying to control everything—people’s opinions, the future, every little decision. But tell me—when has worrying ever changed the outcome?”

Her breath hitched.

“You’re not meant to carry this weight alone. Allah already told you the solution.”

And then, he recited it:

حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ
“Allah is sufficient for us, and He is the best disposer of affairs.”

Amina’s hands trembled.

“You think too much because you don’t trust enough. Let go. Say it with your heart: Hasbunallah wa ni’mal wakeel.“

She whispered it.
And for the first time in years—her heart felt lighter.

The next morning, Amina woke up different.
Not healed. Not fixed. But ready to try.
So she started small.

• The 5-5-5 Rule. When she started overthinking, she asked herself: Will this matter in 5 days? 5 months? 5 years? If not, she let it go.
• Journaling instead of spiraling. She wrote down her thoughts. Seeing them on paper made them feel smaller.
• The Pause-and-Replace Technique. When her mind whispered What if I fail? she forced herself to say, What if Allah helps me succeed?
• Action over perfection. She stopped restarting her salah five times. Stopped waiting to feel ready before making decisions. Stopped fearing failure more than she feared regret.
• And the biggest one? Every time her thoughts tried to drown her, she whispered: Hasbunallah wa ni’mal wakeel.

And little by little, the weight lifted.

A month later. Another family gathering.
Amina walked in—fully prepared.
The comments came.

“Still wearing hijab, sweetheart?”
“You’re so young. Come on, just for today—let your hair down.”

She used to freeze. Overthink. Doubt herself.
But this time, she just smiled.

“I wear it for Allah. And that’s enough for me.”

No explanations. No apologies. No doubts.
And for the first time, she realized—the weight she had been carrying?
It was never their words.
It was her fear of their words.
And now, that fear was gone.

If your mind won’t stop. If your thoughts won’t let you breathe.
Remember this:

• You are not meant to control everything.
• You are not responsible for people’s opinions.
• You are only responsible for your sincerity with Allah.

So let go.
Stop trying to carry a weight you were never meant to hold.
And say it with your heart:

حَسْبُنَا اللَّهُ وَنِعْمَ الْوَكِيلُ

Because peace?
It was never in the answers.
It was always in the trust.