Malikah’s Story
After being involved in a car crash, everything changed for me. The impact wasn’t just physical, it altered how I move through the world. Driving, something I once did without a second thought, now brings anxiety and fear. As a driver or passenger, my body tells the story before words can. My jaw clenches, my toes curl, and I become hyper-vigilant scanning every car, every light, every movement. I’m no longer the same person I was before the crash. It shook something deep within me, and I’ve had to learn how to feel safe again in motion.
This crash cracked me open, but from those cracks came light. I began writing affirmation based music not just for comfort, but as medicine for myself and others navigating trauma. My healing became a song, a reminder that I’m still here, still breathing, still capable of reclaiming peace.
I’ve learned that I am resilient and that I can transform fear into art and anxiety into awareness.
I still experience anxiety when driving or riding as a passenger. My body often tenses before my mind catches up. I’ve learned to meet these moments with compassion. I lean into breathwork, grounding rituals, and affirmation music, especially the songs I’ve written for healing.
One moment that stands out is when I sat behind the wheel after recording my song, heart racing, but I chose to play my own affirmation song. With each breath and lyric, I didn’t just drive, I reclaimed a part of myself. I wasn’t fearless, but I was present!
My song is for those who silently brace themselves behind the wheel, who feel their heart race at the sound of tires screeching, who carry trauma in their muscles. The lyrics affirm that we are safe, supported, and not alone. It’s a gentle companion for the drive, a way to breathe deeper, soften the body, and remember peace is possible.
If you’ve just been through a traumatic injury, please be gentle with yourself. Healing takes time, and it’s okay to feel scared, tired, or unsure. You’re not broken, you’re healing. Take things one step, one breath at a time. You don’t have to rush or have all the answers. You’re strong for just being here, and you deserve support, peace, and kindness, especially from yourself. Your story is still unfolding, and better days are ahead.
A survivor transforms wounds into wisdom and fear into fuel. To me, being a survivor is a reclamation of self, honoring the parts of me that were shaken, while also celebrating the strength. It’s a daily act of resilience and grace.
I’ve learned that healing isn’t linear. It’s layered and deeply personal. Through my recovery, I discovered just how much trauma can live in the body, even when the outside looks “fine.” I’ve learned to listen to my nervous system, to honor the tension in my jaw and the tightness in my chest as messengers.