Taylor Swift broke the internet and our hearts last week with the much anticipated release of her 12 studio album Tortured Poets Department. So much of Taylor Swift's success is rooted in her uncanny ability to have her lyrics cut right to our hearts. To feel so seen and validated by her musical version of our every human emotion.
The aptly named track entitled I Can Do It With a Broken Heart is such a beautiful representation of this talent. There was one line that I have repeated to myself over and over again since the album dropped last week - "I cry a lot but I am so productive, it's an Art. You know you're good when you can even do it with a broken heart."
It is such an interesting juxtaposition that you can be seen as "doing well" or "healed" after trauma if you are being productive. It seems as if as long as you aren't locked in a dark room crying and unaware of the stench of your body and your despair - then you're good. I Can Do It With a Broken Heart was such a beautiful representation of my journey over the past year. Even 10 months later my heart is still utterly broken. Fragmented pieces of Tilly's loss litter the shallow hallways of my mind every day.
Heartbreak is a part of our humanity. It is a shared experience that binds us together collectively as it destroys us individually. Some events feel so earth-shattering that the strangest part of living is that you are. That your world is continuing to move forward. You are opening your eyes in the morning. You are walking the dog. You are eating food. You are doing it despite the fact that you have a broken heart. It is so surprising that something that has broken you so completely allows you to still buy toilet paper and make coffee.
I know now that I can do it with a broken heart. That I can still create, work, play, drive, cook, and be productive as fuck with a completely obliterated heart. I guess there is some comfort in that reality. That you can be broken but not break. At least now I have an anthem to dance around my living room to every time I want to laugh at the fact that I am still...after almost a year...living. Thanks Taylor.