You have losses that you never thought you'd experience.
You have rejection and you have learned how to deal with that,
and how to get up the next day and go on with it.
Taylor Swift
It's not news to anyone who know us, but my daughter and I are fans of Taylor Swift. She's been singing and dancing along to her songs since her early toddler days, and we've come to celebrate album-release days (aka Taylor Days), making our way to Target for a copy even though it's already downloaded on our Spotify account.
Our girls-only car rides or late weekend nights on the couch are joined by our vocal admiration, with us usually singing along and her seeming to always surprise me with all the lyrics she knows.
But while we have bonded through her music, I'm coming to see that our fandom is for different reasons.
Emma is the modern-day Swiftie, and she absolutely loves being identified as one. She lives in her oversized Eras concert tee-shirt and has over a dozen of homemade friendship bracelets of her favorite song titles. She collects stickers for her water bottles and sends GIFs to friends. And she is always making sure that they are in the know of the latest updates and decoded messages. She dreams about what she’ll wear to her first concert, and truly believes that one day she’ll meet her at our New Jersey beach town’s coffee shop, where Taylor played her guitar and sang some of her very first songs.
And when it comes to me, while a large part of my embracement is due to my daughter's childhood idolization, I'm much more about the lyrics she writes.
These last few albums, the so-called slower ones that the younger kids don’t enjoy as much, have led me to connect more to the words that she’s written herself, and chosen to pass along to all of us. She tells her stories and the evidential lessons that come with love, loss, heartbreak, and healing; while poetically singing her pain and newfound growth and self-discoveries.
She says “Fuck It!” and goes on to air the lived-and-learned mistakes and comes to own her truth.
I respect her open honesty, and share the same sentiment.
Though a large part of me envies her ability to share the full version of her stories, knowing that I haven't been able to do so with mine yet.
Trust me, lately I want nothing more than to scream aloud: Fuck it! Here is my truth! This is how I feel! This is exactly what it’s been like for me!
But my heart knows the time isn’t quite right to share my full version of this ten-year story. My soul knows one day it finally will, with my aching body and mind continually wondering:
When?
When I can I get all of this of my chest and breathe without feeling the restraints of illness, finance burden, and all the unknowns?
When do I get to share my truth, without feeling guilty of how it impacts the other protagonist of the story, the one who has suffered in even more ways than me?
But for now, whether it's being forty-years old or walking through this world with a broken heart for so many of my days, I have reached the point in my life where I've discovered the therapeutic value of authenticity, self-acceptance, and inner peace.
And I am truly grateful that I finally made it here.
No longer am I scared of the truth, but instead desire it. I’d rather know than live in my own mind of what-ifs. I've been there, as my past fears held me in captivity, prohibiting me from taking chances and believing that my dreams could actually come true. It’s not as safe and painless as it may seem, and the always-wondering can hurt more than the truth.
For now I'm not worried about admitting that some of my dreams have been crushed, because a lot of new ones have risen over these past few years. The pain and intensity of emotions has lessened over time, and I've been able to understand that change is truly inevitable. And I'm no longer afraid of it, even if it hurts a little at the beginning.
Sometimes I really do believe that I am exactly where I am meant to be, and that the journey was to lead me here all along.
Maybe it’s all a blessing in disguise that came from the broken heart and challenging circumstance. Through many silent monologues and hidden tears, I realized that I am the heroine of my unique story. There’s nothing to regret. I only knew what I was supposed to have known back then. And I was a different version of me. And I am proudly owning it all, as messy and bumpy as it may have been at times.
It all happened, and maybe it was supposed to in the ways that it did. All of these eras were part of the story, with more to come after learning the necessary lessons.
Perhaps I needed to experience the heartbreak. After all it’s not entirely a bad thing when you learn just how resilient you are, and proud of how hard you fought for what you believed in.
The tornado of emotions may have changed everything, but you were able to pick yourself up and figure out how to start again.
Healing begins and brings unsolicited gratitude and a deep understanding that all of the life experiences and lessons were meant as preparation and not punishment
You know that all of the shattered pieces of your heart came together to create a mosaic masterpiece. It’s full of bruises and battle scars, and so many prayers and tears, but its yours. All yours, and only yours.
The truth is, you know that it really was worth it.
You couldn’t grasp that until clarity kicked in and the heart began to heal. Soon you began standing taller and stronger.
You became fearless.
And you are so damn proud of yourself, and the strength that you had to get out of bed on those darkest days. Because some were pretty dark. But when you finally started to see the light again, you kept going to keep it burning, brighter and brighter each day.
You had the strength within you to do so, even when you didn’t think you did.
You got through the hardest part, and now you know you can get through anything. And you will, because you know that there will still be challenges in your life, but you are now better equipped to face them head-on.
Because if you can get a through life with a broken heart, then you can overcome anything when it’s healed.
Right, Taylor?