Still Drivable: When Life Dents the Parts You Paid Off

Let me tell you about a dream.

A dream where my beautiful, paid-off BMW—sleek, reliable, a symbol of everything I’ve worked for—got beat up. Not scratched. Not dinged. Beat. Up.

The kind of damage that makes you say, “Wait—what happened while I was just trying to live my life?”

I had parked it in front of my workplace, just slightly out of my usual spot—nothing wild. I was waiting for my coworker to come out so we could drive home together. Turns out, she’d hitched a ride with someone else, going in the opposite direction. No goodbye, no text—just… gone.

So I head back to my car, ready to drive myself home (as usual), and there it is:

My car—my investment, my security, my pride—absolutely wrecked. The exterior was crinkled like crushed aluminum foil. Only one seat left inside. Parts missing. Stripped and hollowed.

And suddenly, this dream stopped being about a car.

The Damage That’s Hard to Explain

Sometimes, the greatest pain isn’t the blow—it’s the realization that no one stood guard while you were vulnerable.

And that’s when the question hit me—what do you do when what you valued gets violated?

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal.” —Matthew 6:19

But what about when the treasure is your dignity?

Your sense of safety?

Your earned peace?

What happens when that gets taken?

The Wreckage I’m Waking Up To

Lately, I’ve been feeling like that BMW.

I’ve been showing up with intention—writing, creating, healing, giving, believing.

I paid for this version of me—with years of growth, grief, and grace.

And yet… there are days it feels like I’ve been left in the open, vulnerable, only to return to a version of myself that doesn’t look the same.

Dented.

Scraped.

Still running—but not untouched.

“You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.” —C.S. Lewis

I’m realizing the damage is real—but it’s not the end of the story.

It’s the start of a new kind of drive.

🚙 Soul Insights

1. You Can Do Everything Right and Still Get Hit

Parking in a slightly different spot doesn’t mean you invited destruction.

Sometimes, you’re targeted simply for existing, glowing, or rising.

The enemy of your soul doesn’t need a reason—just an opening.

And in real life? I’ve learned that even intentional living doesn’t exempt you from being blindsided. But it does mean you have the tools to rebuild.

2. Not Everyone Will Ride With You

People will take different roads.

And that hurts—especially when you thought you were heading the same way.

But your destination doesn’t change just because someone else turned off the path.

I’ve had to grieve a few empty seats lately.

But I’m still going home. Still moving forward.

3. Your Worth Isn’t in the Wreckage

Even with the dents, my dream-self knew the car was valuable.

It was paid off. It was mine.

Same goes for me. For you. Our past wounds don’t decrease our spiritual equity.

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God… you are worth more than many sparrows.” —Luke 12:6–7

I’m choosing to remember: damaged doesn’t mean disposable. Bruised doesn’t mean broken beyond use.

4. It’s Okay to Want Justice

We’re often told to “let it go.”

But your desire for accountability? That’s holy.

Even David in the Psalms cried out for justice.

Wanting what’s right doesn’t make you petty—it makes you human.

“But let justice roll on like a river, righteousness like a never-failing stream!” —Amos 5:24

I’m learning to bring those cries to God, not to suppress them. The ache for repair can coexist with the choice to keep driving.

5. You’re Still the One Holding the Keys

Even with all that damage, the car could still drive.

And I could still choose where to go next.

Healing doesn’t always mean restoration—it sometimes means reclaiming the wheel.

I may not look how I did a few years ago.

But I am still mine.

I am still His.

And I am still going somewhere good.

🔧 Final Thoughts: Beauty Under the Hood

I woke up from that dream with one overwhelming thought:

You can’t un-dent what’s been hit—but you can decide how to drive from here.

I may not get the old version of me back.

But I’m learning how to custom-build something new—with more soul, more steel, and better sound insulation against the noise of people who didn’t stay.

And maybe that’s why I wrote 17 Syllables of Me in the first place.

Because some dents don’t disappear—but they deserve to be named with love.

So if you’ve ever returned to yourself and thought, “I used to be shinier,”

know this:

You are not less because you’ve been hurt.

You are more because you’ve endured.

And if anyone asks what you’re driving these days?

Tell them:

“Still me. Still beautiful. Just with better stories under the hood.”

💬 Let’s Reflect

Have you ever felt like something precious was taken or damaged without cause? What are you reclaiming now that life tried to strip away?

Leave a comment or message me. I’d love to hear your story.

Soul Path Insights