Marriage was never something I actively thought about or planned for. As an introvert who is deeply shy and attached to her solitude, the idea of sharing my life and personal space with someone else felt overwhelming. I was comfortable being alone, and marriage simply did not exist in my inner world.
Family Background and Marriage
I grew up in a large Somali household where marriage was not viewed as optional. It was a natural part of life, especially for women. It was expected, spoken about, and quietly assumed.
Having five sisters gave me a sense of distance from that expectation. I had time to observe, time to delay, and time to avoid a responsibility I did not feel emotionally prepared for.
When the Pressure Became Personal
The pressure to get married was always present, but it intensified after my youngest sister got married. My mother could not believe that even the last born married before me. From that moment on, getting me married became her focus.
Her first request was for me to bring someone home myself. This felt almost unrealistic. I stayed home most of the time and actively avoided interactions with the opposite gender. Finding someone on my own felt impossible.
My mother had raised nine children largely on her own. She did not search for prospects for my other siblings because she did not need to. They brought their own. With me, she eventually began searching herself.
She looked for what made sense to her. Someone older, financially stable, and from the same tribe. None of this mattered to me because I did not want marriage at all. That idea, however, was difficult for her to understand. In her world, every woman wanted marriage and a family.
Eventually, I gave in. Not out of conviction, but out of exhaustion.
Islamic Courtship and Why I Agreed to Try
As a Muslim, marriage follows a clear and structured process. Surprisingly, this structure made the idea of marriage feel safer to me as an introvert.
Islamic courtship emphasizes intention, dignity, and boundaries. There is no dating. Conversations happen in the presence of family. The focus is on asking meaningful questions rather than building emotional attachment.
For the first time, marriage felt like something I could approach without betraying who I was.
Giving Marriage a Chance
Even though I knew I was hesitant, I decided to try sincerely. The prospects my mother brought did not align with what I valued most, which was religious commitment and humility. Later, more suitable prospects came through the local masjid.
I prepared carefully. I read and listened to Islamic lectures about marriage. I reflected deeply. I even kept a notebook filled with questions.
Those questions were my way of creating safety. They helped me understand someone I barely knew and eased my anxiety. At the same time, they became the place where I stopped moving forward.
Cold Feet and Quiet Withdrawal
How do you sit with someone, exchange a few conversations, and decide this is the person you will spend your life with?
Each time the process reached the next stage, especially when families were about to meet, fear took over. I would withdraw, delay, and eventually find ways to end the process. Some of my reasons, looking back, were childish.
My mother grew tired and embarrassed by the repeated false starts. Eventually, she stopped trying. I felt relief and returned to a life where marriage was no longer part of the conversation.
Looking back, I feel bad for the people involved and for my mother. At the time, I did not know how to move forward without betraying myself.
Where I Stand Now
As I have grown older, my fear has not disappeared. If anything, it has become clearer. Marriage feels like a huge responsibility I might never be ready for. It feels like a disruption of my solitude rather than a natural extension of my life.
I no longer reject marriage, but I also do not pursue it. I see it as something weighty, serious, and life-altering. Perhaps my understanding will change with time. Perhaps it will not. Only Allah knows.
For now, I am learning to sit with this uncertainty. I am allowing myself to be honest about where I am, rather than forcing myself into where I think I should be.
And maybe that, too, is a form of readiness.