Few things in life excite me more than a new Taylor Swift album - which, apparently, is a controversial thing to say these days. With the rise of Taylor’s fame, came a spike in those who outwardly and proudly hate her. To many people, being a Taylor Swift fan is the definition of cringe. I’ve noticed that straight men in particular look at Taylor and her fandom with utter disgust and disdain.
If you are lucky enough to know my real, unmasked self, you know that I have been a diehard Swiftie ever since her debut album was released in 2006. Her music has been with me through my entire adult life. It’s almost like we grew up together. Taylor’s art allows my femininity to shine brightly through the cracks of an unsafe, misogynistic culture.
On Friday, Taylor is releasing her eleventh album, The Tortured Poets Department. As part of the album’s promotion, she released five playlists on Apple Music that correlate with the five stages of grief. Whether you’ve ever taken a psychology class or not, chances are you’re familiar with the five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance.
As much as I love Taylor, I couldn’t help but raise a red flag when I saw these playlists. Immediately, I thought of Megan Divine’s work and her podcast called It’s Okay that You’re Not Okay. In this episode, Megan says the stages of grief are outdated and misinformed. When I saw the playlists, I couldn’t help but wonder if I had more grief knowledge than billionaire Taylor (hehe).
Originally, Elizabeth Kubler-Ross wrote a book called On Death and Dying in 1969 outlining the stages of grief. Somewhere along the way, Kubler-Ross’s work got twisted. Her book outlines the stages of grief as a way to describe the process of people who are dying themselves, not those who have experienced loss. Therefore, the stages are an inaccurate portrayal of a grief journey. To say grief is simple enough to be sliced up into five equal pieces is a complete and total lie.
Yesterday the weather was nice enough to take Ted and Daisy for their first bike ride of the year.
While cruising to the park, we saw a man doing yard work outside his house. He waved to us and said my dogs are living the dream. I smiled, wove back, and noticed he was holding a leaf blower in one hand and an ice-cold Corona in the other. Seeing someone outside drinking alcohol on the first summer-like day of the year sent a shockwave of grief through my entire body. Even though this is my fourth spring season without alcohol, I am still grieving the loss of outdoor drinking to celebrate and welcome the change of season. That neuropathway groove is deep.
Maybe someday I won’t be bothered by other people’s outdoor springtime drinking. But, there will always be a part of me that associates this season with the 2011 version of myself, who was sitting on Grand Traverse Bay drinking a chilled bottle of Black Star Farms’ Arcturos Pinot Gris after a long day of work. It might be taboo to say this, but I miss the carefreeness of those days. I’m still grieving the loss of numbness.
Unfortunately, society’s erroneous yet firm belief in the stages of grief set me up for failure. I beat myself up for not moving through these imaginary stages faster. I shame myself for missing something that caused so much harm. With grief, we still live in the dark ages. We tend to sweep emotions under the rug and continue showing up for work as if nothing happened. We don’t have proper language for grief’s neverending complexities.
In my experience, grief has been a messy and wild rollercoaster of emotions that come in waves. There is no tidy step-by-step checklist. There is no finish line. Grief is a lifelong journey. Triggers show up everywhere, even on picture-perfect bike-riding days.
“Entertainment portrayals of grief are where we learn what is normal inside of grief. It’s also where we learn to support other people in their grief. We learn by watching. We take cues from our entertainment even if we aren’t aware of it. They’re powerful influences on our understanding of the world. Storytelling matters.” -Megan Divine
Currently and arguably, Taylor Swift is the most famous storyteller in the world. She missed the mark by using the stages of grief to promote her new album. I can still love her art and also be critical of her promotional tactics at the same time. Both can be true. No one, not even Taylor, is perfect.
In my experience, getting sober is a grief journey. Giving up alcohol required me to let go of my old life and build a new life from scratch. Sobriety does not resemble a sparkly pink cloud. Instead, I discovered a dark, stormy, grief-filled rain cloud that followed me everywhere. There are no stages. There is just heaviness. I don’t know if the heaviness ever goes away, but with time, it does get easier to see the light between the cracks.
Even though Taylor’s promotional team missed the mark with the stages of grief playlists, her lyrics will forever be a balm to my grief wounds. A new Taylor Swift album shines brightly through the cracks of heaviness.
The next time I take Ted and Daisy for a bike ride and see someone outside drinking, at least I’ll have The Tortured Poets Department blasting in my earbuds.
At least I’ll know better than to shame myself for this messy, non-linear grief journey as I celebrate my fourth alcohol-free trip around the sun.
Progress.