I knew better, then I fell apart

For six years I woke before fajr to make tea and sit with my father while he read Quran, then rushed to night shifts at the hospital. I was careful with my prayers, with charity, with the little promises I made to myself. Then a long illness, a tax of exhaustion, a fight with my mother about the bills, and one missed prayer on a crowded bus became two, then a week. I told myself I would return, but every time I try I get tangled in shame. I keep thinking, after I knew better, does Allah still want someone like me back? I am tired of feeling like a hypocrite. Has anyone else been here, and how did you find your way back?