Taylor Swift’s 11th studio album, “The Tortured Poets Department,”  announcement at the 2024 Grammy Awards is cosmic-level for this Swiftie.

By Emily Laptad

CW: Mention of domestic abuse/violence, complex trauma, and childhood trauma.

On October 22, 2022, I woke up to listen to the bonus tracks on Taylor Swift’s tenth studio album, Midnights (3am Edition). It was a spiritual experience that nudged my personal life story in a direction I never saw coming when the lyrics, “Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first,” crooned through my earbuds as I listened to “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” for the first time.

So, it’s fitting that it’s 3 a.m. now as I try to weave together the words to illustrate just how much the historical popstar, musical mastermind, and 14-time Grammy Award Winner means to me—and so many other Swifties too. This particular editorial has been in the making for over a year now, and after tossing and turning over the shear dismay that Taylor blindsided the Swifties with a brand new album, The Tortured Poets Department, that’s coming out on April 19 (we all thought we were getting reputation (Taylor’s Version) instead) now felt like a better time than ever.

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I could probably write a novel (and honestly, kind of hope to one day) about the allure of Taylor Swift where I dive into the Taylor Swift universe she has so carefully created through her authentic (yet somehow goddess-like) presence, coded lyrics and motifs, and unparalleled marketing mastery. In 2023, the already mega-famous starlet skyrocketed to unprecedented success (for any entertainer, not just female entertainers) on the back of The Eras Tour (and movie!), Speak Now (Taylor’s Version), and 1989 (Taylor’s Version).

She fed the U.S. and the global economy. And she touched millions of fans while doing it—myself particularly. And I can’t help but wonder if she’s managed to write lyrics that feel so intimate to my unique experience, isn’t that why Taylor Swift is so popular to begin with? I have enough (literally hundreds) of liked videos on my TikTok account from other Swifties who feel seen by Taylor’s lyrics. So I’d like to share why I feel seen by her, and therefore, maybe give a little insight into why Taylor has this ethereal presence among her fans.

My Swiftie creds: Hi, I’m Emily. I’ve been a Swiftie since somewhere between Taylor Swift (2006) and Fearless (2008). My earliest Taylor Swift memories include karaoke singing “You Belong with Me” in my mom’s kitchen while pining for someone never meant to be. Back then, I was more of a casual Swiftie. I loved all her singles, but growing up in a single-income household, buying whole albums or concert tickets was not a top priority—plus I didn’t know how to use the internet to listen to the full albums. 

Then I kinda got distracted by graduating high school, going to college, and then starting my first job as a journalist when 1989 (2014), reputation (2017), and Lover (2019) were in the works. But in the solitude of 2020, I listened to the entirety of folklore when it dropped on July 24. That’s when Taylor invited herself into my heart and soul and made a home built on the lyrics of all her past music that I once adored and was also discovering for the first time as I listened to more than her radio hits and fan favorites. 

Fast forward to 2023, and I listened to over 10,000 minutes of just Taylor Swift’s music catalog last year (tbh I didn’t really listen to many other artists either). To put it gently, 2023 was a tough year for me. I wasn’t joking when I said the Midnights’ lyric “Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first” meant something deep to me. That lyric was part of setting the motion for the single most significant moment of my life.

Here’s the background on me: I grew up in a haunted house, but instead of ghosts and poltergeists, my phantom was domestic abuse that impacted me in ways I didn’t fully even begin to understand until after I heard that lyric. The first time I heard Taylor sing those words, they grabbed me by the throat, and something stirred deep inside of me that prowled at the surface until the right trigger came along in December 2022. That’s when I recalled 25 years of complex trauma that invaded and corrupted my entire world.

Suddenly, I—a type-A, straight-A, high-hitting, career-writer girlie—couldn’t tell up from down. I was suffocating in a world I thought I understood, only to have everything I thought I knew about myself ripped out from underneath me. In 13 months (ok, is that unintended symbolism or what? Hello, to both Taylor’s and my lucky number, as we both have birthdays on the 13th), I’m still not where I want to be. But I have fallen to depths of hell, climbed out, and been drop-kicked back down more than once over the last year, and each time, Taylor Swift has been there to throw me a rope.

I used her lyrics to help me understand myself. The challenge in childhood trauma lies in how it tangles its essence into the way you learn to think about and process the world as your brain develops. When something happens that is so horrific your brain isn’t sure you can handle it, sometimes those memories get repressed. And while you may never recover those full memories, it’s stored in your body. When you realize it’s there, it comes out in the ugliest and most deeply and painfully complicated of ways.

So, I clung to things I did know and the things that made me feel seen. When I couldn’t see myself, Taylor saw right through me, she stayed. I’ve done a lot to process my trauma, and part of that was combing through Taylor’s repertoire as I lost track of the number of times I listened to the full Midnights (3am Edition) album—especially “Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve” which mirrored my experience almost exactly—and recognized myself in her lyrics:

As I combed through all ten of Taylor’s studio albums, I started to piece together why I’ve always felt drawn to Taylor Swift. The woman is a fucking poet, to me she is the poet. She spells out emotions and experiences in such pointed accuracy. She knows what it is to struggle, to be at the mercy of Earth’s too-often suffocating nature:

From an outsider’s perspective, those are intense limericks. But I have lived them all. And here’s the thing about Taylor: even with themes of devastating heartbreak, abuse, and self-doubt, she gives meaning to the suffering with lyrics such as:

I’ve never been all that superstitious, but I think Taylor might have a thing or two figured out about things written in the stars and guided by karmic force, because it felt all too perfect in my story that she breathed life into her next era on February 4 at The 66th Annual Grammy Awards. For me, that’s not just any date. February 4, 2023, marked a new era of my identity when I shed a family name that felt like a noose around my neck and became Emily Laptad when I snuck off and eloped with the love of my life mid-wedding planning.

Today (technically yesterday now), I was already looking back on how far I’ve come in the last year as my husband and I celebrated a year of marriage that was the foundation we both clung to as life spiraled out of control. Midnights irrevocably changed who I am, and while I’m a little terrified, I can’t wait to see what Taylor Swift’s lyrics stir up on The Tortured Poets Department—with an album title like that how is this album not going to redefine the depths of songwriting? This Swiftie’s expectations are high. Pre-order it here.

So, thank you, Taylor Swift, for creating a world where I can be seen while I try to make sense of what makes no sense at all. Thank you, Taylor, for sitting with me in the darkness and for the reminder that the light still survives, as long as you strike a match.

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