When the crash happened, it didn’t just damage my car, it changed how I moved through the world. Before, driving was automatic. Afterward, it became a place where my body reacted before I had time to think. For months, something as simple as merging onto the freeway or sitting in the passenger seat triggered a full body response (jaw tight, breath shallow, shoulders locked, eyes scanning everything). It wasn’t dramatic, it was natural instinct. My nervous system learned a lesson my mind hadn’t caught up to yet. Something dangerous happened, and it could happen again.
It Forced Me to Slow Down
That shift affected me more deeply than I expected. I didn’t feel like the version of myself I was before the crash. It forced me to slow down and pay attention to the parts of my body holding onto fear. I began writing affirmation based music not just for comfort, but as medicine for myself and others navigating trauma. I needed something that grounded me, something I could lean on when driving felt overwhelming. The music became a tool. It helped me regulate my breath, settle my mind, and interrupt the tension that showed up every time I buckled my seatbelt.
One moment that stays with me happened after I recorded an affirmation song specifically for drivers. I sat behind the wheel, anxiety already climbing. Instead of forcing myself to “be brave,” I put the song on. I focused on the words, the rhythm, and my breath. I didn’t suddenly feel fearless, but I did feel more present and more aware of my body. That was enough for me to take the drive. Presence became the goal, not perfection.
My Own Music Grounds Me
The song is for anyone who knows what it’s like to tense up on the road without meaning to. For people who grip the wheel a little too tight, or who feel their chest tighten at sudden braking. Trauma shows up in the body long after life goes back to “normal.” There’s nothing dramatic about it. It’s just what happens when your system is still trying to protect you. Over time, I’ve learned that healing from a crash isn’t linear. Some days I can drive calmly. Other days, the tension hits out of nowhere. Instead of judging myself, I’ve learned to work with what my body is communicating. Breathwork, cacao and other grounding practices, and my own music have been consistent tools in that process.
If you’re early in your recovery, I want you to know that it’s okay to take your time. There’s no timeline for when you “should” feel comfortable again. Your body has its own pace, and forcing yourself to move faster usually makes things worse. Support helps. Patience helps. Small steps count. Being a survivor, to me, means recognizing how much the body holds and being willing to rebuild safety from the inside out. It’s not about being fearless, it’s about learning yourself in a new way after everything shifts.
My healing is still unfolding, and I’m still learning. But I’m here, and I’m growing through it. If my story or my music can make someone else feel understood or less alone on the road back to normalcy, then sharing it matters.
Please visit Malikah’s Youtube channel at: Ride Wit Me (The Journey) to listen to her song.
We thank Malikah for sharing her story with us and welcome her as a member of the Crash Support Network.
This article is also featured in our 2025 Winter Issue of Sharing our Recovery
The Crash Support Network is a unique one-of-a-kind website consisting of an online support group, a crash survivor blog, a quarterly newsletter, “Sharing Our Recovery” as well as highly informative articles. Our website is based on relationship-building and puts the needs of survivors first by creating a helpful resource for victims and survivors of motor vehicle crashes
