Why Taylor Swift is Good for Your Health

I got stuck in the algorithm, and I don’t want out 💜 🦄

Mar 04, 2024

ICYMI 👉

I recently spent a weekend alone. In my current life stage, this is my idea of heaven. In addition to eating cereal for dinner and sleeping till 10 am, I watched five consecutive hours of Taylor Swift: first, her Miss Americana documentary, then her Eras Tour movie. It wasn’t nearly enough.

Bear with me.

I realize I’m late to the party. I also realize that Taylor Swift is ubiquitous. And that not getting ensnared in news algorithms about her is like not getting sunburned in the Sahara.

photo credit: Margaret Hutton Griffin

But my take on Taylor Swift has nothing to do with her glitter and glam or even her musical talent; it’s about her uncanny ability to remind people what it means to be human. It’s her naming and normalizing and empathizing and permission-giving to ask for help.

Over the course of five hours with Taylor, something happened to me. I kid you not. I cried, I felt seen, and, most importantly, I learned about myself. Specifically, my teenage self felt cared for. I recognized old wounds that had apparently gone unhealed: the anguish of being excluded from a friend group; the exhaustion of people-pleasing at your own expense; the insidiousness of negative self-talk about body image and worthiness; and the emotional cost of trying to be someone you’re not.

The irony is that these are near-universal emotions. What teenager doesn’t feel insecure or unlovable at one point or another? Yet these common feelings are often accompanied by intense loneliness and shame. And when primitive insecurities are left unnamed—or when they are “medicated” with alcohol, sugar, marijuana, shopping, or other unhealthy self-soothing behaviors—they tend to fester. They can inform our sense of identity and self-worth. They can lay the groundwork for dysfunctional thoughts, feelings, and habits later in life.

I would argue that many of our more challenging adult relationships (that is, with food, alcohol, social media, our partners, children, and work) have everything to do with the legacy of our under-developed and over-reactive teenage brain—and that mining those thoughts and feelings, even later in life, is the birthplace of health.

It turns out that some of my own hard feelings had been dwelling in my brain for, oh, 30 years. And some of them form the basis of residual noisiness inside my adult mind. My teenage self’s attempt to cope had walled off some difficult emotions that needed to be unleashed.

Taylor gave me permission to re-experience them. Even better? She didn’t just allow hot tears to roll down my face, she reminded my teenage self that I wasn’t alone—that every teenager (even her) faces self-doubt and hardship—and that pain is the source of your power.

It was just what the doctor ordered.

The funny thing is that I know this. I talk about this in my own writing—that health is not an outcome; it’s a lifelong process that requires facts, courage, truth-telling and guidance. Health is about how we feel, think, and behave as we move through everyday life. It’s about understanding our stories and our medical facts. It’s about accepting what we cannot control and reclaiming agency where we can.

I also remind my patients every day to tell their true story, to themselves and to their doctors. To stop trying to dazzle me or win my approval. To stop shaming themselves and apologizing for being human. To remember that everyone has a story that needs to be told.

But until you are sitting in your bed with soggy cereal, weeping a few decades later over your adolescent angst, and reminding yourself that you’re human, you might not be fully aware of how much retroactive self-compassion you need.

What Taylor reminds us is this: we are the authors of our next chapter. That we should hold the pen, and not give it away for someone else to write the story of who we are or who we should become. Her message is the balm we all need, regardless of our age and gender: it’s okay to excavate your interiority, to externalize pain, and to turn vulnerability into strength. All in sequined hot pants.

My advice for making the most of your own latent “Swiftie”?

Carve out some alone time.
Watch her two movies.
Get lost in the emotion.
Explore your internal narrative, and fact-check the story you tell yourself.
Know that It’s Okay to Not Be Okay.
Practice self-compassion for your teenage (and current) self.
Repeat.

After all, the question isn’t whether or not we have unmet needs or ongoing flaws. Of course we do. The real questions are:

How willing are you to face uncomfortable parts of your story?
How honest are you about identifying the roots of overwhelming emotions, dysfunctional thoughts, and less-than-ideal habits?
How accepting are you of your imperfections and missteps?
How able are you to ask for help in order to get healthier in a realistic, sustainable way?

Since my weekend with Taylor, I’ve been gentler with myself and kinder to my inner teenager. I hope you can do the same for yourself.

What’s next for me? Finding tickets to see Taylor live in concert, even if I go alone. (Pardon me while I go sell one of my kidneys.)

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Disclaimer: The views expressed here are entirely my own. They do not reflect those of my employer, nor are they a substitute for advice from your personal physician.