Who Do I Have? Finding Sanctuary in the Sacred
In therapy, we often speak of attachment, of the emotional threads that bind us to safety, identity, and belonging. For many, these ties are stitched into the presence of family, the parents who held us through infancy, the siblings who mirrored our laughter, and the children whose voices echo across time. But what happens when these anchors fade into memory?
When the fortress of family is no longer present, society might label the individual “alone.” Clinically, we discuss grief, ambiguous loss, and the longing for proximity. But beneath these diagnostic terms is a truth more profound than language: the grief of absence can birth a presence more radiant than any human bond.
In my solitude, I have found presence.
In my emptiness, I have found fullness.
In the wake of goodbyes, I have found Allah (God), and He is sufficient.
This is not denial. It is spiritual regulation: the ability to anchor oneself in a divine relationship that surpasses even death’s reach. For those who walk the path of healing, such connection becomes a protective factor, a source of psychological endurance in the face of profound rupture.
People speak. They see separation. They see loss. But they do not see the sacred closeness that holds me.
Allah (God) is not metaphor. He is my secure base, my internalized comfort, my always-accessible attachment figure. When time and space carve distances between me and my children, when family stories diverge into solitude, I am not broken, I am drawn closer to the One who never left.
Every departure deepens my bond. Every grief refines my faith. And that is enough
Closing Reflection: You Are Not Alone
If you’ve felt that aching silence in the absence of loved ones or found yourself asking “Who do I have?”, know that the answer may live beyond what the eye can see. Spiritual connection, like the bond with Allah (God), can become a sacred attachment figure, one that shelters us through grief, abandonment, and change.
In therapy, we speak of reframing, shifting the lens to see possibility in pain. This is one such reframe: to move from isolation to intimacy with the Divine.
So I ask you—
Who holds you when no one else is near?
Where do you find peace when home no longer feels like a sanctuary?
Can faith become your fortress when all else feels fragile?
This series will explore the intersections of mental health, spirituality, and emotional survival, a place where healing is not only clinical but deeply sacred.
You are not alone. And even in solitude, you are seen.
Let’s walk this path together.
By Naazi Morad
