For a long time, I genuinely believed that adopting an «it is what it is» mindset was the wisest way to deal with life, especially the hard parts. It felt like the ultimate surrender, a way to keep moving without letting things weigh me down. Whenever I faced something painful, unjust, or disappointing, I made it a habit to quietly repeat to myself: «It is what it is». As if that phrase could dissolve the pain or somehow fast-forward the healing.
But thanks to reading, listening, and reflecting through different points of view, I began to question this mindset and realized that, while it might feel comforting in the short-term, it can actually be quite toxic. It can create emotional numbness, foster passivity, and kill the desire for growth, empathy, and meaningful change. The very qualities that make us human.
One of the books that shifted my perspective was “The Body Keeps the Score” by Bessel van der Kolk. It doesn’t address this phrase directly, but it made me think about how dismissing experiences as just how things are, is not healing, but avoidance and numbing. Eventually, that catches up with us, whether through mental exhaustion, broken relationships, or a sense of hopelessness.
Dr. Yasser Al Hazimi reminded me of the depth of emotional intelligence and spiritual responsibility that our religion calls us to. He speaks often about healing from within, about knowing your own emotional landscape and not being afraid to confront it. And that resonated with me deeply especially since I'm aware that Islam is not a religion of emotional suppression or passive surrender, but a religion of awareness, empathy, action, and sincere effort. It never teaches us to resign in the face of hardship. Yes, there’s tawakkul, but that’s not the same as giving up.
When I look at the life of the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him), who was the most spiritually grouned person, I still see someone who grieved, cried, made du’a with urgency and never gave up on people or situations. He never shrugged and said «it is what it is». And even when things seemed hopeless, he engaged with heart, with patience, with intention. The Quran consistently tells us to stand up for justice, to care for others, to strive for better. «Indeed, Allah will not change the condition of a people until they change what is in themselves» (Surat Ar-Ra'd)
That verse alone made me question how I had been rationalizing passivity as piety. It reminds me that I can influence my reality, not by obsessing over control, but by showing up with sincerity and effort. And if I kept believing nothing can change, then I’m basically cutting off the possibility of hope, which in itself is a form of faith.
Even podcasts like "Yaqeen Institute’s DoubleTake" and specifically Omar Suleiman, have helped me see how much emphasis Islam places on healing, reform, and taking responsibility. Our beautiful religion encourages us to feel pain, process it and do better because of it, rather than shrugging it off. It teaches us thst empathy is a core value, and that healing isn’t a side note but a form of worship.
Now when I hear someone say «it is what it is» I don’t immediately disagree because sometimes, yes, acceptance is necessary. But I also know that acceptance should be the starting point, not the destination. Now, when I’m faced with hardship, I still practice acceptance but I remind myself to question about what does Allah want from me in this moment?
Honestly, letting go of that mindset made me stronger. It made me more present, more accountable, and more hopeful and it taught me that faith doesn’t mean detachment.
In a world that’s constantly trying to numb us, that’s a resistance I want to holdon to.
