I got knocked down by a van

And still made it to drinks that night

Before I begin

I don’t really know how to write about this. But if I don’t let it out, it’s going to implode inside of me. I mean, it sounds ridiculous even as I type it out — but yeah.

I got knocked down by a fucking van a few days ago.

And I’m still here. So if I sound like I’m spiralling or over-sharing, forgive me. I just need to let this out before it eats me alive.

How it happened

That afternoon, I stepped out for Muay Thai. On the way back, I was walking home. Same street I always cross and working on the phone with my music on. I jaywalked. Yeah, my bad. But it was a yellow box on a one-way road. Nothing coming. Or so I thought.

Out of nowhere, this large white van reverses into me. I didn’t see it coming. Just felt this sudden slam from the right and I was on the ground, dazed. Everything slowed down.

I remember thinking:

This is some Final Destination shit.
I’m gonna be flattened like a bloody pancake.

And honestly, I credit Muay Thai for what happened next. On pure instinct, I twisted my body, threw up an elbow — not at a person, but at a metal beast — and rolled. Rolled out from the van’s path just before he could run me over. If I didn’t move, I wouldn’t be here writing this.

The hit, the run, and the shaking

I stood up. Shaky and horribly disoriented. The bastard looked at me through the mirror… then sped off. Didn’t check. Didn’t stop. Just sped off. That’s when I realised what had happened. He reversed into the yellow box — into me — just so he could beat traffic and change lanes.

A black car nearby saw everything. That driver tried to block him and honked hard, but when the lights turned green, the coward was gone.

My hands were trembling. My Bose earbuds were shattered. My body was buzzing with shock and confusion. I called my best friend first, then the police. I said I was alright, because at the time, I thought I was. I’ve had worse injuries from my Muay Thai sessions than this.

But trauma’s funny like that. It shows up later.

The blessing I didn’t expect

There’s something wild about timing.

That very day, my best friend had flown back from Australia and came to work from my place. Almost like the universe scheduled her return for the exact moment I’d need someone most.

She was the one who cleaned my wounds when I got back home. Massaged my sore neck and back. Held space while I tried to process what the hell had just happened. If she hadn’t been there, I would’ve been alone, and that thought still guts me. That’s the part that catches in my throat when I think about it.

Because yes, I got hit by a van. But I also got held, comforted and protected. And that… that’s a big deal.

The absurdity of survival

I still went out for drinks that night. To celebrate my best friend’s return, and that I survived a fucking van. Because what else do you do after staring at death from two inches away?

You choose life. You find your people, and you raise your glass.

Not everyone gets to walk away from a van with all their bones intact.
And I did.

That’s probably the universe saying “Not today. Get the hell up”.

The 11111 moment

On the cab ride home after the police took my statement, I glanced at the app, and there it was:

1:11pm. Reaching in 11 minutes.

All ones. I don’t know what you believe, but I believe in signs. In moments the universe talks, not with words, but with numbers and weird timing.

That day wasn’t just about luck. It felt like a message:

“You’re alive for a reason. Don’t waste it”.

The aftermath always arrives late

The thing about adrenaline is that it lies.

It numbs you just long enough to get home, just long enough to tell everyone you’re okay, just long enough to pretend you’re fine. But your body keeps the score.

The next day, the real pain arrived. A throb in my neck, a twinge in my spine, an ache down the left side of my body that felt like it had been holding tension since impact.

Bruises began to surface, slow and ghostly. First faint, then dark and green, like they needed time to remember what had happened. Proof that my body took the hit even when I couldn’t fully feel it.

I started walking slower. Sleeping stiffer. Even seeing a white van would set off that weird electricity in my chest. Like my nervous system was whispering, “Stay alert, babe. Remember”.

And that’s the thing about trauma. It doesn’t care if you’re “fine”.

It shows up anyway.

So now what?

Honestly, I don’t have a neat bow to wrap this story.

I’m still sore.
Still stunned.
Still processing.

But I know this:
I walked through something that could’ve ended me, and it didn’t.

And that has to count for something.

---

If you’ve ever had one of those moments that shook you awake, or reminded you that life is more fragile than we like to admit…

Yeah. I see you.
We’re still here.
And for now, that’s enough.

I’d love to hear your story in the comments, restack, or just share it to someone who needs to hear this right now.

---

And if you’d like to help keep the lights on while I raise my daughter, two cats, and pour my heart into stories like this, consider becoming a paid subscriber, get my book, or simply send a virtual hug filled with kindness. It makes a real difference.