External Reflections: Car Problems To Unworthiness & Safety.

Personal Journey Log

The issues with my car haven’t been constant, just scattered repairs here and there. But this most recent breakdown felt different. It felt heavy, significant—like the universe was sending one last, firm nudge before the need of something more extreme to happen to get my attention. So I sat, all the lights flashing on the dash while I am pulled over on the 405. A random engine misfire. Out of the blue. It’s not just about the car anymore; it’s about what the car represents and what it’s asking me to face.

Cars, after all, are more than just vehicles. Energetically, they symbolize movement, freedom, stability, control, and the ability to navigate life. When the engine misfires, it reflects something out of alignment within. When the tires falter, it hints at a lack of grounding or stability. My car’s unpredictable behavior mirrored what was happening deep within me: feelings of unworthiness, fear of safety and stability, and resistance to moving forward and moving on.

I’ve learned that everything external reflects something internal. And as I sat with this situation, I couldn’t ignore what it was trying to show me. I was in the process of exploring new car options. Feeling extreme resistance to this. Feeling myself moving impulsively. So I took a pause. This is not the way I move anymore. Let me feel into this. What is the energetics of this current situation externally and internally? What am I being shown here? Let me listen. Let me breath for a moment.

What am I feeling in this moment?

I feel unsafe, like I’m out of the illusion of control.
I feel lack—like I don’t have the resources to fix the problem or that I’m not good enough to have something reliable.
I feel unworthy of stability and security.

Mmm, there it is. The narrative that was running the show. “I don’t feel worthy of safety, security, or reliability. I don’t feel safe to be safe. I don’t feel safe to move on and let go.”

These feelings weren’t new. They’ve been quietly lurking beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to demand my attention. While also have been subtly attempting to get my attention for many years now. In this ongoing cycle/pattern.

I started to notice a pattern: every car I’ve ever owned came into my life through desperation or fear. My Impala was reliable, but purchased from lack and desperation. It was paid off and I gave it up impulsively after a fixable accident, driven by panic. My Camry was a rushed, fear-based decision that ended after it was totaled. After months without a car, I purchased my VW, which seemed like a stable choice still with faint energies of lack lurking behind the scenes. Here we are now, a little over a year later, revealing some reflections.

Looking back, I realized that each of these cars reflected the same narrative I’ve carried for so long: that I’m not worthy of stability, safety, or reliability. My relationships with these cars were rooted in survival, not joy, excitement, or empowerment.

And now, faced with the prospect of replacing my car, I feel resistance. At first, I thought this resistance was financial—a fear that I wouldn’t be able to afford something better. Mixed with the fear that my price range will leave me in the same position that I am in now a year later. A cycle, a loop. But as I sat with it, I realized the resistance wasn’t about money or cars. It was about avoidance.

The truth is, I don’t need a new car right now. What I need is to address the deeper problem my car has been reflecting all along. This isn’t about fixing or replacing the vehicle—it’s about healing what’s inside me.

For so long, I’ve avoided the feelings that this car—and every car before it—have brought to the surface. The unworthiness, the lack, the fear. But this time, the universe wasn’t letting me run anymore. This time, the breakdown was a mirror, and it was showing me exactly where I needed to go within myself. It’s time to let these energies go for good.

‘Go deeper’ my higher self urged.

As I peeled back the layers, the truth became clear:

I didn’t feel worthy of safety, security, or reliability.
I didn’t trust myself to feel safe.
I carried old narratives that told me I had to struggle to survive, that I couldn’t have stability without suffering.

Every car breakdown, every misfire, every wobble in the tires—it was all pointing back to this. And as I finally allowed myself to see it, I felt the weight of those old stories begin to lift.

In that space of acknowledgment, I began the process of clearing out those old narratives, energies, and imprints. I released the belief that I wasn’t good enough or capable enough. I let go of the fear that safety and security weren’t meant for me.

And I programmed in new truths:

I am worthy of safety.
I am worthy of stability, security, and reliability.
It is safe to feel safe.
I am worthy of moving forward with ease and grace.
It is safe to move forward.
It is safe to move on.
It is safe to have stability, security, and reliability.

As these new beliefs settled in, I felt lighter. Memories of past experiences tied to these old narratives began to flash before me—moments of instability, fear, and lack. I let them come, and I let them go, thanking them for the lessons they brought.

This car isn’t the enemy or the problem. It’s a teacher. It forced me to confront what I’d been avoiding and showed me where I still needed to grow. The resistance I’ve felt isn’t a wall—it’s a doorway, an invitation to step into a new version of myself, one that is grounded in worthiness, safety, and trust.

The universe will often give us little nudges, and when we ignore them, those nudges grow louder. This car breakdown was my final nudge—a loving but firm reminder to face what I needed to heal before something more extreme had to happened.

This experience has reminded me that what seems like a practical problem is often a spiritual invitation. A broken car, a lost job, a failing relationship—these aren’t just obstacles; they’re mirrors. They’re opportunities to look within, to heal, and to transform.

To anyone reading this who feels stuck or frustrated by external circumstances, I encourage you to pause and ask: What is this trying to show me? Sometimes the answer isn’t in fixing or replacing the problem—it’s in healing the part of you that the problem is reflecting.

Thank you, God, for this wake-up call. Thank you, car, for being the mirror I needed. And thank you, angels, for guiding me back to the truth of who I am: worthy, safe, and whole.

I am worthy of a life of safety, security, peace, and ease. It is my birthright. It does not have to be earned. With this new narrative, I allow and trust in the flow of life. What will be, will be. What goes is for my highest benefit and is always replaced with something 10x better. Thank you, Spirit. Thank you, Source. Thank you, God. I am always taken care of. I am so blessed.