If you’re a Swiftie like me, you know that Taylor Swift’s songs can feel like therapy. Her lyrics often hold up a mirror to our emotions, sometimes raw, sometimes comforting, but always deeply human. If you’ve ever screamed along to All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (Taylor’s Version), then you know exactly what I mean.
As the Swiftie community eagerly awaits her 12th album, The Life of a Show Girl, coming out October 3rd, I thought it would be the perfect time to reflect on some of Taylor Swift’s most therapeutic lyrics and explore how they can be used in a therapy setting.
“This Is Me Trying” – Folklore
Let’s start with a classic: This Is Me Trying. This song is poetic, vulnerable, and painfully honest. It resonates so strongly with therapy because, at its core, therapy is about trying. Trying to heal, trying to change, trying to show up for yourself in ways you maybe never have before.
The second verse contains some of Taylor’s most self-aware writing:
“They told me all of my cages were mental
So I got wasted like all my potential
And my words shoot to kill when I’m mad
I have a lot of regrets about that.”
This verse captures unhealthy coping mechanisms—using substances, lashing out, projecting onto others—and the painful aftermath of regret. What strikes me most is the vulnerability. Change begins with acknowledging the ways we’ve messed up and finding the courage to face those regrets. In therapy, that’s often the hardest part: confronting past choices without turning away from them.
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) can help reframe unhelpful thought patterns tied to regret and shame, while the principle of unconditional positive regard reminds us that we are still worthy of care and acceptance despite our past.
Then there’s the chorus:
“I just wanted you to know, that this is me trying.”
When clients first come to therapy, their effort often goes unseen by others. Confidentiality means not everyone in their lives knows they’re seeking help, and sometimes loved ones may not even understand. But within the therapeutic space, the act of showing up is deeply significant. It’s a declaration – sometimes quiet, sometimes desperate – that “this is me trying.” You don’t always need someone to see or acknowledge the work you are putting in for that work to be deeply meaningful and impactful. It can actually be a helpful part of the process to let go of needing validation from others that what you are doing matters; if we can find this within ourselves, then true healing and growth can happen.
I often think of this song in connection with substance use recovery. Admitting a problem and asking for help can feel like the biggest hurdle. For someone who has resisted treatment for years, walking through a therapist’s door can be their way of saying, “this is me trying.” Asking someone in their life for help can be their way of saying, “this is me trying.” Going to AA meetings and meeting with their sponsor frequently can be their way of saying, “this is me trying.” For those in inpatient treatment for substance use, being vulnerable in their groups and with their therapists can be their way of saying, “this is me trying.”
“The 1” – Folklore
Another powerful line comes from The 1, where Taylor sings:
“If you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.”
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve echoed this sentiment in sessions. Pain is an unavoidable part of growth. Without challenges, heartbreak, or loss, we wouldn’t develop the resilience that ultimately makes us stronger. Doing something new for the first time can be painful as well, but if we don’t try new things we won’t ever fully know what we are capable of.
As therapists, we often sit with clients in their darkest seasons – grief, trauma, betrayal, divorce, breakups, endings that feel unbearable. In the moment, the pain can feel permanent, like life will never be okay again. But healing often reveals something unexpected: a new beginning, a different version of yourself that you never could have discovered without walking through the pain.
It’s beautiful when a client looks back and says, “I didn’t think I’d survive this, but now I see how strong I am.” That’s growth. That’s resilience.
Sometimes “bleeding” doesn’t look dramatic; it might be lying in bed all day, barely making it through. And yet, you did make it through. You survived. Each small step is progress. Over time, those steps add up, and one day you look back and think, “Holy crap. How did I make it this far?”
That’s the moment of realization: you are stronger than you ever knew.
Why Taylor’s Lyrics Work in Therapy
So why do Taylor’s words hit so hard in the therapy room? Because they normalize emotions we often try to hide. They remind us that being human is messy, filled with mistakes, heartbreaks, regrets, and resilience.
Her songs give language to feelings clients sometimes struggle to articulate. Lyrics like these can become therapeutic tools:
- Validation: Clients feel less alone when they hear words that mirror their experiences.
- Processing: Lyrics can open the door to deeper conversations about grief, regret, love, or resilience.
- Reframing: Just like CBT challenges distorted thinking, lyrics can reframe pain as growth.
- Empowerment: Music can help clients connect with their own strength and selfawareness.
For many of us, singing along to Taylor isn’t just about fandom – it’s about release, catharsis, and connection. And in therapy, that’s exactly what we’re working toward.
Whether it’s the quiet honesty of This Is Me Trying or the resilient wisdom of The 1, Taylor Swift’s lyrics remind us of the courage it takes to heal. They give voice to pain while also pointing us toward growth and self-compassion.
So next time you’re driving with the windows down, belting out a Taylor song, pay attention to the therapy tucked between the lyrics. Chances are, you’re not just singing, you’re healing.
