Ghafla: Heedlessness
The word names the fog that settles over what you have already seen. Help that once amazed you becomes old news within weeks, and the mind moves on to the next worry. Nobody decides to forget; the memory just stops carrying weight, and the person plans as though no one ever helped.
Qaswat al-qalb: Hardness of heart
The Quran uses the phrase for a heart gone stiff, like skin that thickens where it is rubbed. Each refusal leaves a small deposit, and after enough of them a warning that used to sting lands and nothing moves. From the inside it can pass for strength, though nothing can reach the person anymore.
Al-nafs al-ammāra: The self that pushes toward harm
Sufis use this for the part of you that wants the old comfort back, whatever it once cost. Freedom is uncertain and asks you to decide things, while the setup that hurt you was at least predictable. So people walk back into what wrecked them, and at the time it feels like relief.
Ḥilm: Forbearance
Al-Ḥalīm, one of God's names, means the one who does not strike at the first offense. The response that could land right now is held back, and the delay is not distraction; the door is being kept open. For someone who knows exactly what they have done, that pause is the only reason turning around is still possible.
My mercy outstrips my wrath: mercy runs ahead
The Prophet reported these words with God speaking directly. Mercy arrives before any verdict, and it sets the terms for whatever comes after. So a person who adds up their failures and decides they are finished has guessed wrong about who they are dealing with.
God rejoices at your return more than a man who lost his camel in the desert and found it: coming back is welcomed
The Prophet drew that comparison to describe how a return is received. Anyone dragging themselves back braces for a cold face, a list of conditions, a long probation. The greeting he described is closer to shouting and running, which changes what it costs to come back.