What My Emo Phase and Taylor Swift Have in Common

Music has always been a source for memories and nostalgia. Even when the memories and nostalgia hurt. (Especially then.)

One time I wrote about glasses.

The eyeglass kind - not metaphorical lenses or some dinky metaphor about perspective.

I wrote about the literal frames that sat on Aaron’s face, because they symbolize so much to me.

And if you had told me 10 years ago, in the thick of my average PR and comms degree, that one day I’d write something meaningful about my dead husband’s glasses, I would’ve smacked you upside the head with my AP Stylebook.

(Italicized and properly formatted, ofc.)

But here we are. I’ve done it. Cringe! And today’s post isn’t about glasses—it’s about music.

Because just like the glasses, music holds memories hostage.

It pulls us into places we miss—or thought (hoped?) we didn’t—until one chord or lyric sucks us back into remembering.

I grew up in a bluegrass family band. Think matching overalls and acoustic instruments. We idolized Nickel Creek: they were our celebrities.

Cue the 2000s and suddenly it’s *NSYNC and Britney and Tamagotchis and Neopets and burned CDs that skipped just enough to be annoying but not enough to stop listening. (Also, Limewire anyone?)

Then I went half-emo. Try-hard emo. Mainstream emo. MySpace Top 8 emo. It was The Used, Fall Out Boy, Say Anything. I wasn’t cool enough to be deep-cut emo, but I wanted to feel things so loudly everyone around me needed earplugs to be near me.

…And then I met Aaron. He played John Mayer after high school choir. Every damn day. Eyes locked from across the room, he knew what he was doing. (And it worked.)

We left High School, got married, and grew up together.

Our music suddenly combined into one playlist—him loving Nickel Creek, me admitting that I didn’t hate John Mayer. We found our rhythm. And then, just like that, the music stopped.

Aaron died.

A month later, Taylor Swift released Folklore.

Back then I was NOT a Swiftie. Because - in the most pick me way - I was Not Like Other Girls™.

But Folklore was exactly what I needed at the time. I listened on long drives where the grief was hitting so hard it was debilitating. I cried, I screamed, I existed. And Folklore let me do all three.

And from that grief, I built my new self. Who was I? I was exactly like other girls.

I was a woman who listened to Taylor Swift. A woman who didn’t roll her eyes at pop. A woman who became obsessed with the one-woman show of it all.

Now it’s Chappell Roan, Gracie Abrams, Olivia Rodrigo. The girls. The drag and guts.

Since Folklore Taylor released new albums Evermore, Midnights, and the Tortured Poets Department. I listened to Evermore as I was still in the depths of grief with small moments of hope coming through, Midnights as I was beginning to find myself again - but my footing felt clumsy and off, and Tortured Poets Department as I had found myself, dated, and lost my first love since Aaron.

It’s been…Perfect. Just like so many: this 35-year-old is right in step with her now.

So it’s funny to look back at the evolution of my music taste—not because it’s eclectic or cool, but because it tells my life chapters better than I ever could. Of childhood joy. Of love and building a life together. Of loss and the debilitating silence that follows.

And now—of discovery. Music I found after it all. Music that belongs only to me.

People ask me what my go-to karaoke song is, and I never have one. Because it keeps changing. Because I keep changing.

Every new chapter has its own soundtrack.

And I hope that never ends.

My Spotify is chaotic. That’s for sure.

<3 - Kari