On May 10th, I was in a four-car collision that I can only describe as the most terrifying and stressful experience of my life. I haven’t fully processed it yet — and maybe I won’t for a while — but I wanted to write this not just to share what happened, but to highlight what often gets overlooked: the aftermath.

I was driving on the slip road westbound by the tunnels in Cardiff Bay. The car in front of me suddenly emergency stopped, because the car in front of them had stopped on the dual carriageway to let someone in from the slip road… even though they had the right of way.

I slammed on my brakes and just lightly bumped the taxi in front. It could’ve ended there. But two cars came speeding out of the tunnel behind me — and all they saw was stationary traffic. They hit me at 70mph, twice — once into the right rear of my car, and again into the driver’s side door.

Their airbags deployed.
Mine didn’t.

And somehow, I walked away from that crash.
But not unscathed.

Since that day, I’ve been dealing with daily migraines, whiplash, nightmares, PTSD flashbacks, and a fear of slip roads and cars driving close behind me. I’ve lost my confidence on the road. I feel anxious in places I never did before.

Please, don’t speed in tunnels.
The signs are there for a reason.
Please don’t stop unnecessarily on dual carriageways. If it’s your right of way — take it. Stopping without cause nearly cost lives that day.

I hit my head on the seatbelt panel, and I distinctly remember the feeling — my brain moving inside my skull. I’ve since spoken to medical professionals who confirmed what I felt: “If it felt like it moved, then it did.” Your brain isn’t fixed in place — it floats in fluid. And it’s fragile. So, so fragile.

I’ve come away from this experience with a new perspective on how delicate life is, and how quickly everything can change. I appreciate life more. I appreciate the people who showed up and checked in — and I now know who truly cares.

But it hasn’t just been the crash that’s been hard — it’s everything after:

  • Hearing the car I saved to buy myself is now written off.

  • Police statements and crash investigations.

  • A WalesOnline article about the crash.

  • Insurers, car hires, and trying to find a new car in less than two weeks.

  • Medical appointments, hospital waiting rooms, therapists, solicitors.

  • Missing work.

  • The financial pressure of replacing a car when the crash wasn’t even my fault.

I was just in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

And the emotional toll is real.

I’ve now been told I need to slowly phase back into physical activity. Head trauma isn’t something you bounce back from overnight. It’s been two weeks without fitness — which for someone like me who finds movement essential for mental health, feels unbearable.

But this week I’m easing in with yoga, and later on I’ll reintroduce running — gently, mindfully. I do have the Paris 10k coming up in three weeks with my boyfriend, and while I’m excited, I’m cautious too. He’s been incredibly supportive, reminding me:

“Health comes before medals — always.”

** Just wanted to add that I am incredibly thankful, grateful to the people who have supported me during this time. Especially to my dad, who has helped me throughout this process and the admin of the aftermath, that’s all new and alien to me. His support has meant the world to me, and I honestly don’t know where I’d be during this whole process without him.

So I’m taking it one day at a time. Healing doesn’t follow a straight line. If you’ve ever been through a traumatic accident, please know that it’s not just okay, but necessary, to ask for help. To feel it all. To go slow.

And if you’re reading this — thank you. Whether it’s to be informed, to feel less alone, or to remember to slow down behind the wheel — I hope it helps. ❤️

Stay safe. Slow down. Life is precious.
– Lorr x