By K.D. Lyons
Everyone has pieces of themselves that are lost or forgotten. Whether they are left behind intentionally or just “temporarily” brushed aside, rediscovering them can feel like pulling out an old family photo album— sentimental, nostalgic, familiar, and sometimes overwhelming. This could be seen as healing your inner child (or in my case, my inner teenager) or just a return to form. Either way, falling back into old favorites is a deeply under-appreciated joy of life.
After I blew out the candles on my 13th birthday, my parents handed me a square little present enclosed in confetti-themed wrapping paper and shakily held up our decade-old camcorder to film my reaction. I already knew what it was before I opened it. It was the only gift I had specifically requested. Red by Taylor Swift. The album had come out just a few days earlier. Once I tore open the wrapping paper, I was proven right and my face lit up like my parents had told me we won the lottery. The album itself wasn’t rare, but it was there and it was mine.
I listened to that album like I was underwater and it was an oxygen tank. I inhaled the lyrics. I clutched the album case for dear life. I studied the album booklet like I needed to memorize it to break back through the surface. It was transformative. It was unlike anything I had heard up until that point. Most days after school, I would come home and open the windows in the family room upstairs to let in the chilled autumn breeze (yes, Fall in Memphis does get chilly… eventually). Then, I would listen to Red on my aging CD player until the sun started to set or my mom called me down for dinner— whichever came first. Sometimes, I would read a book or doodle as I listened. Sometimes, it was a musical sing-along. Other times, I would just lay on the futon and take in every word.
The album’s timing was impeccable. I was a brand new teenager and my roots were growing and thirsty. They were latching onto things, pulling them in, and absorbing them. I had almost no social media at that point and I wouldn’t even get a smart phone until my junior or senior year of high school. With minimal social media influence, my growth heavily relied on music, books, and movies. I was molding myself one song, one chapter, and one film at a time I claimed the growth as much as the growth claimed me. Red expanded my world view with its emotionally complicated and sometimes conflicting lyrics. It was magical and messy, light-hearted and tragic, fun and solemn. I had no idea what it felt like to be 22, but I knew what it felt like to be 13. All of the dueling emotions, calculated confusion, and intertwined traces of loss and hope that Swift had seeped into the record resonated with me deeply. It was a little jarring to hear all of my inner emotions pinned down so precisely. It not only felt like someone saw me— It felt like I finally saw myself.
I fell out of a lot of my hobbies in the following years. At first, mostly due to time constraints, then due to stress and depression (whomp whomp). My plate overflowed with schoolwork, extracurriculars, after-school jobs, friends, family, relationships, and college applications. There was no space to fit hobbies in. I stopped listening to music other than the songs my friends played in their cars or whatever my band director handed us sheet music for. Though college saw the reintroduction of some hobbies, like painting, most would remain lost for at least a few years longer.
By the time I graduated college, I felt lost. I hadn’t truly listened to music of my own choosing or followed most of my other hobbies in seven or more years. To make matters worse, partway through college, my longstanding relationship ended and it left me trying to figure out which pieces of me were mine and which pieces weren’t. My life plans had been derailed by a global pandemic as they were dependent on attending graduate schools that were no longer accepting new students. All of my college friends had split off and moved away, so other than my long-distance best friend and my family, I was alone. In summary, I was burned out from 18 years of schooling, I (and everyone else) had been confined inside for nearly two years (for good reason, but still), I had no idea what I was doing or what my plan was, I had a skeleton crew for a support system, and I was still gluing the pieces back together of who I was. As one can imagine, all of that caused me to have a slight issue with severe depression.** If Taylor Swift has only ever been right about one thing, it’s that being 22 is a complicated, disorienting mess— though, my experience was admittedly more miserable than magical.
Eventually, I started figuring it out. Honestly, I’m still figuring it out. This website is part of me trying to figure it out.
I started reading again. I finished three whole books in 2022, which is nowhere even close to the number of books I used to read, but it’s still an impressive up-tick from the zero books I read outside of school requirements for the seven years prior. I started writing again, which is how we got to me making this website. I started crocheting again and learned new stitches (they don’t know it yet, but all of my family is getting handmade crochet gifts for Christmas this year lol). I started listening to music again.
I didn’t get back into Swift’s music until Midnights was released in 2022 (Ironically, right before my 23rd birthday). Since then, I haven’t been able to stop. I discovered folklore and evermore for the first time. I listened to albums I had only heard in passing clips during my time away, like 1989 and reputation. I relived my childhood with old flames like her self-titled album and Speak Now. I even scored last-minute tickets to the Eras tour. I was in the nosebleeds and I probably sent the ticket resellers laughing all the way to the bank, but I was just happy to be there. I had a blast.
Truthfully, I procrastinated on re-listening to Red. I can’t explain why. Maybe I was scared it wouldn’t live up to my memory of it. Maybe I wasn’t ready for the sentimental and emotional weight of a record that defined my most formative years. Maybe I thought I knew it well enough that I didn’t need to re-listen. Maybe I was so focused on fixing other aspects of my life and moving that it was pushed to the back burner. Regardless, I just got around to re-listening to it more recently than I would like to admit. I opened my bedroom windows in my new city in my new state and let in the breeze. I queued the album up on Spotify. I laid with my head ever so slightly hanging off the foot of my bed until the last lyrics rang through the room and then a little while longer. It felt weird when my mom wasn’t there to call me downstairs for dinner this time.
The album hit harder than before. As much as I resonated with the emotions in it originally, there were added layers of complexity from my experiences over the past decade. 13-year-old me had never been through a breakup, but 24-year-old me has. The album was new and familiar at the same time. The girl listening to it was both new and familiar too. I’ve changed in a lot of ways and also stayed the same in a lot of ways over the past 10 years. As much as listening to “22” followed by “All Too Well” is emotional whiplash, going from 13 to 24 in what felt like the blink of an eye is emotional whiplash too. The album is a good representation of life and growing up. For Red, the same girl wrote both “22” and “All Too Well” and put them on the same album. For me, the same girl connected with both of those songs at 13 and 24, lying in an otherwise quiet room with the windows wide open. Out of all of the albums in my mental vinyl collection, Red has most sentimental value attached to it for me. When I hear it, I am transported to both 13 and 24 and all the ages in between. The 13-year-old me and the 24-year-old me sing the chorus to “State of Grace” in harmony with each other, separated in time but stitched together with the threads of me that have continued on. When I listen to Red, sometimes, I’m in my parent’s house after school. Sometimes, I’m in my own. Sometimes, the smell of my mom’s beef stroganoff wafts throughout the whole house. Sometimes, it doesn’t.
There is something so emotionally fulfilling about revisiting my own past eras and reconciling my past selves with my current self. I’ve been on a journey to reclaim my life, so every hobby I pick back up, every movie I re-watch, and each song I rediscover brings incredible amounts of Joy. It’s like connecting with an old friend and feeling as if no time has passed. If you have old hobbies or parts of yourself that you’ve been missing, it may be time to give yourself a revisit. You may find more than just your past. Sometimes, you find new connections to your present as well.
Enthusiastically,
K.D. Lyons
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